For Fictivekaleidoscope and the prompt: 'When I finish patching you up I swear to god I'm going to kick your ass for making me worry about you' with Virgil and Scott.
There was muttering. It was annoying because it was stopping him sleeping, and everyone knew not to disturb Virgil's sleep on pain of death. Still, said mutterer must not have a death wish because as soon as that thought had manifested itself the noise stopped. He sighed and settled in for sleep, only for a sharp pain to register.
What on earth was someone doing to his arm? He tried to pull back, but to his surprise nothing happened. Huh, weird. What was going on. Damn, the muttering had started up again, this time a little louder, and still his arm was being pulled about. He tried to say 'Hey! Stop that!' but it came out as a longish whine. The muttering and the pulling stopped.
'Virgil?'
Why was there a question mark at the end of his name? Surely Scott hadn't forgotten it? The thought raced through his head. The rescue, the container, Scott! Had the container fallen on this brother after all? Did Scott have a head injury, one that caused him to be unsure of who he was? Virgil screwed his face up in an effort to remember what had happened on the rescue.
Warehouse fires were never good. You never knew what was going to explode. Inventories were never accurate, and he had lost count years ago of how many times he'd been told the building met the safety regs – but didn't. This one was proving to be much the same. Some kind of storage facility, with huge shipping containers from floor to ceiling. Some were exploding from the heat, giant missiles that had taken out three of the local fire engines.
So International Rescue was called. Several hours and a lot of work later Virgil and Scott had been finishing off inside while Gordon and Alan were finishing outside. He remembered looking up – that container was going to fall on Scott, he was ahead. Virgil remembered sprinting as fast as the Jaws of Life would let him, Virgil had some protection using them – Scott had none.
Had he not been successful in saving Scott? Was his brother in the bed next to him, suffering memory loss? Virgil groaned. Why couldn't he open his eyes and look? He needed to know, needed to check. He needed to move, and he forced all his energy into sitting up. Hands were immediately there, gently pushing him back into the bed as the one pulling on his arm held it still.
Huh. Maybe he should concentrate more on opening his eyes. The murmuring had started up again, and this time there was another voice joining it. They appeared to be talking to each other, talking over him. It was beginning to irk him that he couldn't seem to wake up properly. A hand cupped his cheek and a thumb rubbed gently across his zygomatic bone, and he turned slightly into it.
'Open you eyes, little brother.' Scott. So warm and coaxing, and Virgil found his eyes opening almost against his will. Blinking furiously in the light, eventually he managed to open them enough to see his oldest brother smiling down on him, one hand on his face, other hand holding his arm. Turning slightly the other way he could see Gordon, hands on his shoulders and big grin on his face.
Virgil frowned. This did not seem right. Scott removed his hand and immediately he felt bereft. Scott was bandaging his arm. Something else had happened. Why couldn't he remember past running for Scott? He screwed his face up trying to remember, only for Gordon to give him a small shake, so he opened his eyes again.
'Virgil, do you remember what happened?' Scott, ever so calm and commanding, still wrapping his arm. 'Container. You were in danger.' Scott nodded. 'That's right. You pushed me out of the way.' A snort from Gordon and Virgil glanced at him while Scott merely raised an eyebrow and continued as if he hadn't done anything. 'The container fell on you instead. Got a nasty bump and cut your arm up pretty good. Luckily your exosuit saved you from any serious consequences.' Scott glanced at Gordon, who got up and left the room.
Scott was on the last bit of the bandage, seeming to concentrate on the tightness of the strapping. He was biting his lip as he worked. Virgil frowned.
'Scott?'
'When I finish patching you up I swear to god I'm going to kick your ass for making me worry about you…'
Virgil swallowed back a laugh and interrupted his brother. 'You would have done the same if the roles had been reversed, don't say you wouldn't. At least I had my Jaws to protect me. You would have had nothing to protect you. I won't apologise for saving your ass.'
Scott flashed him a tight smile as he held Virgil's hand. 'I never will ask you to. I was going to say thank you,' he said dryly.
'Any time.'