A/N: Thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter; your thoughts are always welcome.
Chapter THREE:
Grandma watched her eldest grandson; he studied the mantelpiece clock as it ticked. At ten o'clock, he'd made both his father and her, a drink and offered them cookies. At quarter past, he'd suggested that his father bank the fire up for the night.
But he couldn't fool her, she knew what he was trying to do; divert his father's attention away from the clock and the fact that Virgil had missed his curfew.
Scott swallowed as the hands of the clock moved, but suddenly all his efforts where for nothing; Jeff Tracy glanced down at his watch and then out onto the driveway.
"Where the hell is your brother?" he cursed before looking at Scott. "I definitely told him ten." he glanced at his watch once more, as if in the few seconds he'd spoken, an hour had passed. "It's nearly half past now."
"Now Jeff," Scott was thankful that his Grandma's head came up from where she concentrated on her knitting. "Look at the weather out there!" she pointed out the window. "The poor boy probably underestimated how long it would take. I'll bet he'll turn up any minute now, full of apologies for you."
"Hmm," Jeff grumbled, unaware of the little blonde boy that had reached the bottom of the stairs. "Well that's no excuse for not letting us know. He's got a 'phone, I didn't buy it for him as a fashion accessory."
"Well then why don't you call it Jeff?" Grandma suggested bluntly.
"I'm sure it's nothing Dad, Virgil'll be fine. Like Grandma said, he probably just misjudged how long it'd take him to get home." Scott said, his nervousness breaking through.
Deep down inside he had this horrible sinking feeling that something wasn't right here, but the fact that Virgil's hadn't called tamed his apprehension. And possibly his sanity.
"He'll be here any time now." Scott prayed to see the headlights of his precious Porsche. If Virgil didn't get here soon, he knew his younger brother would never hear the end of it from their father.
"Maybe I will call him," Jeff decided, pushing himself to his feet.
Scott swallowed hoping his father would believe him, "Dad, if he's driving back then you wouldn't want to break his concentration by calling. And the last thing we need is him rushing home in these conditions; he needs to drive carefully," he sighed. "Besides," Scott shrugged. "If there was a problem he would have called us."
"He's right Jeff, sit down," said Grandma, supporting her grandson's valiant attempts to protect his brother.
The little blonde haired boy at the foot of the stairs could take it no longer and stepped forward, out of the shadows. "Daddy," he said anxiously. "What if he did call?"
"Alan!" his Grandmother exclaimed. "What are you doing there?" she spied the glass in his hand. "Did you come downstairs for a glass of water?" Leaning forward she retrieved the glass from the little boy's hands. He didn't look up, at her or his father, instead he stubbed his toe against the carpet.
"What do you mean, what if he did, Alan?" Scott frowned at him, suspicious of his brother's guilty behaviour.
"Son?" Jeff followed Scott's words with a prod and an evaluative study of his youngest son's actions.
"Virgil did call." Alan admitted, again not looking up, "I told Gordy he should tell…"
Scott cut him off, jumping to his feet and looking across at Alan with hard eyes. "What?" he exclaimed. "What do you mean he called?" He shook his head, "Why the hell didn't you say anything! What did he say?"
Alan could only shrug in reply.
Jeff could already see where this was going and headed to the foot of the stairs. "Gordon!" he bellowed, "Get down here, now!" The loud shout earned him a disapproving look from his mother but it had the desired effect. Within seconds, Gordon plodded down the stairs in his pyjamas and shortly after, John appeared behind him.
The latter shivered and pulled the blanket he had around his shoulders a little tighter. He plopped down into the chair near Scott.
"What's going on?" John yawned, looking up to his big brother with a sniff.
"Virgil hasn't come home," Scott informed him, turning on his younger brothers as their father sat them down on the couch. "And they know something."
John nodded tiredly and turned his attention to where their father was marching up and down in front of the couch.
"It wasn't me Daddy, it was Gordon." Alan, as usual, was quick to shift the blame, "I had nothing to do with it, Gordy just told me what he'd done."
"Alan!" Gordon hissed. A brief glance from their father and Gordon made the decision to keep quiet.
"Gordon," Jeff addressed his copper haired mischief maker. "Think very carefully before you answer this question, I'm only going to ask it once," he warned. "Have you spoken to Virgil tonight, since he left to pick Sofia up?"
Gordon glanced at Alan with contempt, and spun his vision round the room's occupants. He faced a tired John, an anxious Grandma and a menacing Scott, before turning back to his far from patient father.
There was silence before his reply came. "Yes," he said as he dropped his head and muttered. "He called earlier, it wasn't a wrong number."
"Why the hell did you say it was then?" Scott exclaimed angrily. "That was nearly two and a half hours ago!"
Gordon looked up to his brother with sad, anxious eyes. "I thought he was just calling to tell Dad he was going to be late home, I just wanted him to get into trouble! He was really mean to me earlier."
"Calm down Scott," Jeff Tracy boomed, putting an end to hiseldest son's tirade. Scott left the room in a flurry of anger and worry.
Jeff swallowed, trying to remain calm.
"Is that why he was calling Gordon?" he addressed his second youngest son. "To tell me he was going to be late?"
The young redhead shrugged. "I don't know Daddy, he never said."
Jeff let out an aggravated sigh and ran a hand over his hair.
As always, Grandma stepped into the breach. "Okay Sweetie, what did he say?"
Gordon looked up apprehensively. "He said he wanted to talk to either Dad or Scott. I said he couldn't until he apologised to me for what he said before." He paused, "Virgil said he didn't have time, so I put the 'phone down. He called back, but we got cut off."
Jeff nodded, "Okay, and he didn't say anything else?" Gordon shook his head. "Anything at all?"
Again a shake of the head was his only reply.
"What you did was a very irresponsible thing," Jeff told his young son sternly.
"Dad!" Scott came back into the room at a run, waving his 'phone. "He'd tried to call me, and he's not answering his 'phone." He looked at his father uneasily, and glanced at his watch. "He's over half an hour late now. There's no way he'd be this late without letting us know, I think we should go look for him."
Jeff seemed to take a moment to process Scott's words before he nodded. "Okay, Scott you come with me."
"Mother," he turned to face her where she sat on the couch, next to a sombre Gordon. "Will you be okay with the boys?"
"Well yes of course," she waved a hand. "But Jeff, what if he is just late? He could turn up as soon as you leave."
"We'll stick to the route he would've taken." He told her as he pulled on his coat and made a grab for his 'phone, "Call me if he shows up."
"Of course," she nodded in reply. "Be careful out there."
Jeff just nodded as the anger and concern fought for dominance of his features.
Grandma watched them hurry out of the door, before returning to the lounge and sitting down. A glance up at John told her that he was almost asleep again and she couldn't say she was surprised; the boy poor wasn't well at all.
"Grandma, I never meant for all this to happen," Gordon said as he dropped his head desolately. "I just wanted Virgil to apologise for what he said tonight."
"I know you did Gordon," Grandma replied, "but what you did tonight was a very silly, immature thing to do."
"I know Grandma. I'm sorry, but I …."
"I know why you did it," she cut him off. "It was still a very nasty thing to do to your brother, despite what he said to you earlier."
Gordon briefly glanced up to his Grandmother. "You don't think he's in trouble do you?"
"No dear, of course not," she assured him. "Virgil will probably breeze in that door within the next ten minutes as if nothings wrong," she stated.
Ten minutes passed quickly.
There was still no sign of Virgil.
XxxxX
"Turn left here Dad," Scott instructed from the passenger seat as they made their way along the darkened roads.
Jeff looked across at him with a sceptical frown. "Here? Are you sure?" The lines on his face deepened, "Won't that take us out onto the dirt track that leads into the back of beyond?"
"Yeah," Scott was nodding as his father turned. "That's the way he always goes to Rob's." He explained, "The roads aren't so good, but it's quicker."
Scott watched his father's driving, whilst looking out of the window for any sign of his brother. He knew now, something was definitely wrong; Virgil would have called to say he was going to be late. There was only one reason as to why he hadn't and that was that he couldn't; a conclusion that Scott found more than a little disturbing.
"Quicker in better conditions maybe," Jeff muttered, "Rob's the one with the farm, right?" He was squinting to see through the rain. "You boys have got so many friends, I get confused."
"Huh?" Scott seemed distracted, too deep in thought. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, he's the one. Do you really think he's just late Dad?" He seemed to need some reassurance from his father; his anxiousness not withdrawing its grip.
"Well Scott," Jeff paused as he leant forward to check both ways before pulling across a junction. "If it was just that he was going to be late, I think he would have used Sofia's 'phone to call us. Or if not Sofia's 'phone then someone's." He spoke as it to reassure himself, "Virgil's a sensible boy, I'm sure he's fine. It's just that, if anything, he's reliable and it's not like him not to let us know."
"You think he's in trouble, don't you?" Scott winced as the question left his lips. It wasn't so much the question as the answer he dreaded. He was sure, deep down, he already knew what his father's reply would be.
Jeff saved him the worry, "How long do you think it would normally take you to get to Rob's?" He glanced at the car clock that now read quarter to eleven.
"Right here," Scott instructed, pointing down in-between some trees. "I don't know." He shrugged, "About an hour I'd say, but with the rain tonight. I'd probably take longer. The roads would be flooded."
Jeff nodded, needing to think about something.
Something other than the endless possibilities.
"Right, I'll bet it would've taken Gordon and I over an hour to get to the other side of the city. But Virgil probably won't have thought of that, he'd be planning to leave at around nine."
"Yeah," Scott agreed with a nod of the head, following his father's logic.
"So, it still doesn't add up," Jeff frowned. "Gordon and I were back for half seven, so I'd say Virgil 'phoned at what? Eight? Half passed at the latest, if not before then." His frown hardened, "Why was he leaving so early?"
Scott shrugged and then a thought hit him about the conversation he'd heard earlier. "I don't think they were planning to stay there all night. That's why Virgil needed a car; he and Sofia were going on somewhere else."
Jeff nodded. "Oh, I see," He muttered, as he raised an eyebrow. Scott had the sinking feeling that he'd just dropped his brother in it.
Pulling onto the small country roads, Jeff slowed the car down to compensate for the uneven tarmac and the abundance of water. As Scott had rightly assumed, the roads were flooded.
Scott had to voice his fears. "Of course. That's if he ever got there."
Jeff glared at his son's theory, before turning back to the road with a hardened look in his eye. He deftly avoided the potholes in the road as they continued; praying that Virgil would be okay. The darkness was eerie and he hated to think Virgil might be alone out here.
Thankfully, seconds after travelling down the small country track the outline of the distinctive Porsche could be made in the distance.
"Stop!" Scott's sudden shout caused Jeff to hit the brakes hard. "Look!" he pointed out, extending a hand into the darkness where the silhouette of a car could just be made out. "That's my car!"
Scott's eyes were glued to the scene. "That's him Dad! It's got to be!"
Jeff pulled up alongside the back Porsche. He'd barely turned the engine off, before Scott jumped out and rushed across to his car.
"Virgil?" Scott called as he got closer. Jeff opened the boot and retrieved a torch before following his eldest son. As he got closer and heard the rattling of the loose exhaust fittings, Scott's tone changed. "Can you hear that?" he briefly turned to his father. "What's he done to my car!"
Jeff ignored his son and headed round to the drivers door. More concerned that, regardless of Scott announcing their presence loudly, there was still no sign of Virgil accept for the steamed up windows. With a not so gentle tug, Jeff pulled the door open and switched the engine off.
"Virgil?" his eyes widened at the slumped figure of his second eldest son. Pulling himself together, he reached a hand to Virgil's shoulder. "Son, can you hear me?"
Seeing his father's actions, Scott halted in his examination of the car and rushed over to him. "Is he alright?" he asked anxiously, trying to get a look into the cars interior.
"Virgil?" Jeff asked again, desperate for some kind of response. He was praying that his son was just asleep after sitting in the warm car for so long, with nothing else to do. However, something in the pit of his gut was stirring at just how long it was taking to rouse him. "Virgil, son! Come on, wake up."
Much to Jeff's relief, Virgil's eyelashes fluttered and his head lolled to one side. Frowning at his father's image, he struggled to keep his heavy eyelids from clamping back down again and the blobs of colour in front of him never really focused into anything identifiable.
All of a sudden, his stomach churned and the sounds around him were distorted. Voices calling to him, from all directions. He turned his head to get away from it but it persisted; just getting louder and louder; hurting his head even more. The movement was enough to cause his stomach to lurch and a wave of dizziness hit him full force. He could feel the rain hitting him again and the chill of the wind, so he leaned for the open door and hoped for the best.
Jeff almost let out a sigh of relief as Virgil's eyes fluttered, but it didn't last. The young man seemed to have little control over his movements and let his head roll in the direction of his father's voice. His eyelids drooped and then closed completely.
Jeff was surprised when Virgil pushed him back with a disobedient arm thrust into his stomach, as the younger man leant out the car and vomited onto the floor. Scott jumped back at the retching noise, but Jeff leant forward and managed to catch Virgil's torso before he fell out of the car completely. He waited until he'd finished before sitting his son back up in the seat. "Virgil?"
"Dad?" Came the feeble reply. Virgil's head rolled about as if his neck wasn't strong enough to hold it in one place. "I don't feel too good," he breathed quickly, struggling to get the words out. He frowned as his big brown eyes tried to bring his father's face into focus.
"Is he drunk?" Scott yelped out in astonishment.
"It looks that way," Jeff growled in his harsh, rich tones. He looked down on Virgil's apparently drunken state with an angry frown. "Quite frankly Virgil, I'm not surprised you don't feel well!" he exclaimed. "I expected more of you, I thought you knew better!"
Jeff watched as Virgil's head lolled aimlessly from side to side and he tried to gain some kind of control of his unruly limbs.
Virgil's stomach churned as he tried to open his eyes again, only to squint at the power of the torch Scott was shining into the car. He tried to dispute Scott's claim but he couldn't get the words out quick enough and his father was already speaking.
"Get out," Jeff ordered.
Virgil tried to obey his father but every muscle ached and his head pounded to the point where all he wanted was quiet.
"Come on Virgil, out!" Jeff raised his voice to get his sons attention, as he half dragged and half pulled him out of the car.
Virgil was unsteady on his feet and swallowed back the sickness that rose again. As a result, Jeff found himself practically holding his son up.
"I can't believe you'd be this stupid!" he barked.
Scott went around to Virgil's other side, helping his father hold him steady.
"I thought you'd have more sense!" Jeff continued angrily. "What in God's name were you thinking? Trying to drive in this condition!"
He looked down at Virgil for a reply.
It came but was indecipherable.
"Scott, take your car. I'll follow you home." Jeff snapped as he took a good hold of Virgil's arms and began leading him to his own car.
Scott walked away, wide eyed. The Virgil he knew was always level headed and sensible; thought things through and if anything, over analysed situations. Despite the change he'd seen is his brother, Scott struggled to accept that Virgil would even entertain the idea of drinking and then getting behind the wheel. Especially when he'd only just got his licence and especially when he was driving Scott's car, which he knew was so important to him. With a shake of the head and a deep anxious frown as to the conversation that was going on in his father's car, he adjusted the driver's seat.
"Dad," Virgil was breathing. "I didn't, I swear. No drink." He struggled to form sentences but wanted so desperately to contest the notion that he was drunk. "I…"
"I'm not interested in your excuses Virgil!" Jeff spat as he tried to get his son to sit in the car. Virgil didn't seem to be able to hold himself up straight, or move any of his limbs in the direction he wanted to.
"We'll have this discussion later, when you can string more than two words together…" came the reply and Virgil frowned at the anger in his father's voice. "I'm disappointed in you, son," Jeff glowered as he passed his second eldest son the seatbelt. "Put this on," Virgil's fingers refused to close round the material and he struggled.
Jeff was about to tut and fasten the safety belt for him, when a shout interrupted him.
"Dad!" Scott called as he ran over to his father's car, metal piping in his hand. "Dad, look at this!" He briefly glanced down at his brother. "Most of the exhaust is in the car!" he puzzled.
"What? But…" he turned back to his second eldest son and the frown on his face dropped away. Rushing to kneel down in front of Virgil, he cupped his son's face and forced the teen to look directly at him.
An alarming theory ran through his head.
"Virgil, look at me son," he said in considerably softer tones, trying to hold eye contact.
Virgil's eyes weren't focusing.
"Come on Son, look at me."
He tried again.
"Virgil …. it's important. How long have you been in that car?"
"Go home," Virgil brought a shaky hand up to his father's forearm, gripping it with such force that the skin slapped together. "I was just trying to go home."
"Scott, get in the car." Jeff ordered, turning his head to his eldest son. Looking back at Virgil, he ran a hand over his wet chestnut locks. "It's okay son, you're going to be okay." He assured him, his tone of voice now completely different. Pulling Virgil to his feet and manoeuvring him onto the back seat of the car, he swallowed; angry with himself that he hadn't thought sooner. It all made sense now; the rattling the Porsche was making and the stateVirgil was in. "Everything's going to be okay."
"What?" Scott was frowning. "What about my car?" he pointed at the black Porsche.
"To hell with your damned car!" Jeff snapped. He was more angry at himself than Scott, but the harsh tone came out before he could stop it. "Your brother's sick Scott, we need to get him to a hospital!"
Scott was openly shocked by the outbursts and it took a few minutes for his father's words to sink in. It was rare Jeff Tracy lost his temper, rarer still that it was ever at him. Scott knew though, that this time of year wasn't easy for his father and his fuse was considerably shorter; still, even with that knowledge, the explosion knocked him for six.
Numbly, he activated the remote locking on his Porsche and clambered into the back of his father's car, dropping the exhaust pipe he had with him into the foot well. He wrapped his arms around Virgil's chest and pulled his younger brother until his head was in his lap. Virgil looked up at him blankly, but then closed his eyes.
"He's shaking," Scott commented as the car bounced along the country track in the same way he was sure the Porsche had, only this time with a determined Jeff Tracy at the wheel. "What's wrong with him Dad?"
Jeff briefly turned to gesture onto the back seats where his sons where. "There's a blanket down there, use that to keep him warm," he said, avoiding having to voice his own theory. Scott dutifully fished about in the back of the car until he came across the woollen material. He laid it carefully round his brother, in an attempt to keep him warm and cease his shivering.
"He's not drunk is he?" Scott asked again from the back seat, as Jeff's foot inched closer to the floor with the accelerator.
"No Scott," Jeff said sadly, not wanting to say what he thought aloud, "I don't think he is." He didn't elaborate, concentrating on getting to the nearest hospital as quickly as possible.
"Dad, what is it then?" Scott asked, as he glanced between his father in the rear view mirror and his stricken brother in his lap.
"I don't know Scott, but he's been sat in that car for goodness knows how long." Jeff muttered unhappily, as they sped along. "He's cold…"
"He's soaking wet," Scott added as he fingered his brother's damp chestnut locks.
Jeff nodded; Scott's words just further proving his point. "And I don't like the way he's so confused and disorientated."
"Scott," The frail, weak, voice barely managed a whisper and Scott could have quiet easily not heard the call. It took a few seconds for him to register that the voice came from his lap, and he looked down in to familiar wide, brown eyes. "I'm so sorry," Virgil said.
"Sorry?" Scott frowned down at him. "What for?" he placed a hand on his brother's forehead, his frown deepening at the cold, clammy touch.
"The car," Virgil replied. He shook his head but regretted it when it began pounding again. "I never meant…" he trailed off trying to explain. He was able to keep his eyes open now, but still felt incredibly tired.
"Shh," Scott soothed. He shook his head, "Forget about the car."
Virgil closed his eyes and then opened them again. "I want to go home," he muttered as his eyes closed. It felt surreal; he was so tired and he ached all over, Scott's head looming over him seemed abstract. It was as if his eyes weren't working properly, neither were his lungs or his brain.
"We've got to get you checked out first son," Jeff told him from the driver's seat. "We're going to the hospital."
Virgil frowned. "My head hurts," he mumbled randomly. "I feel sick." He moved his head in Scott's lap, trying to get comfortable. He seemed to be able to string words that were more coherent together now, though he didn't understand what was happening. His eyelashes fluttered, but Scott's voice stopped him from sleeping.
"Can you remember what happened Virgil?" Scott asked as his fingers ran over his brother's hair.
"The car," Virgil sighed. "I'm sorry," he said again, allowing his eyes to close once more.
"Don't worry about the car Virgil," Jeff replied. "You're more important than the car, much more important." He knitted his brow together, allowing himself the luxury of glancing over his shoulder at his son. "The car can be fixed Son."
Virgil swallowed, "Are we nearly home yet?"
Scott's head shot up to meet his father's apprehensive expression in the mirror before he turned back down to his brother. "We're not going home yet," he told Virgil. "We're going to the hospital, remember?" Virgil didn't answer, instead looking up at his brother, perplexed. Scott saw his bewilderment, and just smiled sympathetically. "We're nearly there now."
XxxxX
Having tucked a sick John back up in bed and then settled Alan, Grandma now sat with Gordon in his room. The little boy flatly refused to go to sleep; despite the fact his body craved it, he awaited news of his brother.
"Can we try calling them again Grandma?" he pleaded.
"No Sweetie, Scott'll call as soon as he knows anything," she sighed at the guilt her young grandson obviously felt. "Virgil's in good hands. The best thing you can do for him now is to get off to sleep, like a good boy."
"But Grandma, I want to be up when Virgil comes home. So as I can apologise properly, and I guess Dad'll want to talk to me too." Gordon's bottom lip trembled at the thought.
"Now come on," she reached for the covers and pulled them up to his neck. "Virgil knows you didn't mean for all this to happen and your Father'll talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep."
Gordon sighed miserably as he placed his head on the plumped up pillows. "If Scott calls, you'll come and wake me, won't you Grandma?"
"You just get some sleep, young man," she avoided making any promises. "Virgil's going to need looking after when he comes home, you'll need all your energy for that."
"I want to see him as soon as he gets in though Grandma," Gordon insisted, trying to hide the fact that he was yawning. "So I can tell him. So as he knows for sure, how sorry I am."
His Grandma looked down on him as she ran a hand over his copper hair. "Virgil knows that already son, now get to sleep."
Gordon closed his eyes and let himself relax into the mattress. Within minutes, he'd drifted off to sleep like his brothers before him. With one final brush of her hand through his hair, Grandma rose to her feet and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. Switching the light off as she went, she headed downstairs to wait up for any news.
XxxxX
Scott watched as Jeff pensively rubbed his thumb along the bottom of his lip. They stood side by side, watching the doctors and nurses through the glass as they tended to Virgil. His father's deep breathing and the way he watched the scene in front of him, made Scott unsure whether to break the silence or not.
"Dad…" he said quietly, before swallowing. "What do you think it is?"
"I don't know Scott," Jeff replied, as he watched Virgil's feeble attempts to push away the help that the medical staff were trying to provide.
"You've got an idea though, haven't you? As soon as I told you about the exhaust, you…" he was cut off, as the doors opened and they both looked up to see a middle aged man walking towards them. His white coat trailed behind him slightly and he held a clipboard in his hands.
"Mr Tracy?" He held a hand out to Jeff, "I'm Dr Martin Davis and I've been treating Virgil. Perhaps we could step this way…" he held a hand out, gesturing to a nearby room. With a longing glance at Virgil, both Scott and Jeff followed. "Please, sit down," the doctor invited.
A big wooden table sat in the middle of the room, a neat pile of magazines were stacked in one corner and around it were several large chairs. Jeff and Scott both sat down, staring up as the doctor perched on the edge of one of the chairs with a sigh. "Do you have any idea how long Virgil was in the car, before you got him out?"
Jeff shrugged. "No," he shook his head. "Two or three hours maybe, it could've been more." He rubbed his hands together anxiously, "How is he?"
"He's going to be fine, Mr Tracy." The Doctor assured him, "It seems he's suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning." He paused, "The only thing we can do is keep him on the oxygen and that should counteract the high concentrates in his bloodstream."
"Carbon monoxide poisoning?" Scott exclaimed, "But how?"
"The exhaust," Jeff looked up to the doctor for a conformation nod, which came. "The fumes from the exhaust were getting into the car. All the time he was in there, he was breathing it in."
"He's been very lucky; you got to him just in time." The doctor nodded having come to the same conclusion as Jeff. "If he'd been exposed any longer there could have been any number of complications; carbon monoxide poisoning is one of the biggest killers in the winter."
"But, he's going to be okay?" Jeff was frowning, not quite reassured yet.
"He's going to be fine. A couple of day's rest and he'll be good as new." The doctor smiled, "I'd like to admit him for tonight, just for observation; I'd rather play it safe. He's also still very cold so I'd prefer to keep a close eye on him. But I don't want you to worry; he'll make a complete recovery."
"Can we see him?" Scott asked, betraying any attempt to hide his concern.
"Yes, of course. The nurses are just making him more comfortable upstairs." The doctor nodded, "He needs a lot of rest, so try not to disturb him too much. He's very confused and disorientated, but that's to be expected." He nodded again, and then looked up as if he'd only just remembered something. "Don't let him remove the oxygen mask; he's had a tendency to keep trying to do that. Something tells me he doesn't like it too much but I'm afraid it's a necessity."
Jeff was nodding, "Thank you doctor, I appreciate everything you've done." He sighed as he shook the doctor's hand again, "Would it be possible to stay with him tonight?"
The doctor seemed to evaluate Jefferson Tracy before nodding once more. "Yes okay, one of you can stay."
"Thank you," Jeff said again, his eyes conveyed his sincerity.
The number of emotions that swirled through his mind and body at that moment in time was insurmountable. He could have easily burst in to tears; which said something for a man who normally kept his emotions under strict control. The more he thought about the whole situation, the more he hated himself for not letting Virgil take his car. He kept questioning his own actions; should he have realised what Gordon had done? Should he have gotten there quicker? How could he be so stupid as to assume that his son had been drunk, when in fact he'd been so sick?
"You did the hard part," the doctor said seriously. "You got him out just in time, a few minutes later and we could have a very different case on our hands." He swallowed, gesturing to the nurse, "If you go with Melanie here, she'll take you up to see him."
"Thanks again doctor," Jeff nodded as they left the room and the doctor behind.
Scott made small talk with the short, dumpy woman that led them down countless corridors but Jeff just walked behind them. He was anxious to lay eyes on his second eldest son once more and reassure himself that Virgil really was okay.
Like he did business; he didn't have time for small talk.
When they arrived at the door, the nurse left them to it and cautiously, they both made their way inside. The room was dimly lit, but the figure on the bed was plain enough for both of them to see. Virgil was sat up, supported by numerous pillows. His head was lolled to one side and it appeared he was asleep.
Jeff headed straight for the chair by the bed, whilst Scott took in everything about his brother. Virgil' face seemed pale yet his lips were a brighter red, machines monitored his breathing and heart rate. Glancing down, he noticed the dressing on his brother's hand where he'd burned himself and consequentially, the needle that sat against his skin on the back of his hand. As if he'd somehow sensed their presence, Virgil stirred. Rolling his head towards his father, Jeff was met with hollow, wide brown eyes.
"Dad," Virgil ground out, the mask muffled the sound and it didn't appear coherent. Blinking, he found himself unable to control his eyelids from drooping. He had to admit he was feeling better than before.
But he was still so tired though.
"Hi son," Jeff smiled back. "Just relax; you're going to be okay."
Suddenly Virgil frowned, not bothering to open his eyes he rolled his head to where he knew his big brother would be. "Scott?" Instinctively, Scott leant against the metal railings. "I'm sorry," Virgil forced a heavy arm up to the obstruction on his face and attempted to remove it.
"No, Virgil, don't do that!" "Leave it there," came the simultaneous replies.
Virgil felt Scott's hand take a firm grip on his own and lift it away.
"I'm sorry," he repeated again as Scott leant forward to hear him.
"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Scott told him, strumming the back of his free hand.
Virgil tried to move, murmuring as he let himself fall back against the pillows. "Are we nearly home yet?" he mumbled, licking his lips.
Scott looked up to his father at the comment, unsure of how to respond.
Jeff just reached out to Virgil's forearm and began caressing it, whilst he stroked back his hair soothingly. "Just go to sleep son, you need to get some rest." He paused, "You'll feel much better in the morning."
Virgil sighed and slipped back into sleep.