From aliceinwhumperland and Whump Word(s) of the Day: "No, we're not touching the oxygen mask. Remember?" With Virgil and Alan for gumnut. Thanks to both Nutty and Tsari for the help and read through.

He groaned. It was low and rumbled in his chest, causing a shooting pain through his right side. Something about that pain gave him pause, and his inner Medic tried to come to the fore. Tried being the operative word, because his brain was currently offline and all his Medic self would work out was Pain

Reaching up slowly to feel what was irritating his face, he was surprised when his hands were halted by small hands on top, holding his hands gently and ever so carefully tugging his hands back down. Again his deadbeat brain could only supply one word.

Alan

There was a soothing voice too. 'No, we're not touching the oxygen mask, remember?' Huh. Had he tried to do this already? He couldn't remember, and at that thought he attempted to move, to sit up, only for those small hands to rest on his shoulders and hold him there.

Boy, he must have been badly injured if Alan could hold him still…

Alan's hands moved after a couple of minutes, one placing itself in his left hand, the other brushing his hair off his face. There may have been more words, but the combination of trying and failing to move coupled with his baby brother's ministrations soon had him drifting off again.

The next time Virgil stirred that small hand encased in his gave him pause for thought. He could hear the small puffs of air that said Allie was asleep, and, although his brain was still stubbornly refusing to fire on all cylinders, the ingrained years of big-brother-ness had him careful not to wake a sleeping younger brother.

However, moving his right side still ignited pain, which made working out what was going on that much more difficult. Gritting his teeth, he reached up slowly to his face again. Only for another small hand to stop him.

Maybe, just maybe, this time he should open his eyes.

That was a struggle…but eventually he managed to crack one eye open, only to squeeze it shut in the brightness of the room. That one glance gave him some of the knowledge he sought.

Alan was awake, looking at Virgil with barely concealed fear, his other hand now holding Virgil's again. He took a moment and forced his eyes open again, finding himself now staring into the impossibly blue eyes that were so like his oldest brother yet had a different depth to them.

If Scott's eyes were Cerulean Blue then Alan's were Sky Blue. Sometimes they were the same shade, but often Alan's were just that shade lighter. Like the sky and how it lightens towards the horizon…

Great. His Artist Brain was awake but his Medic Brain was still non-functional. He wanted to give his head a shake, but he had a feeling that that would be a BAD IDEA.

Virgil became aware that Alan was still staring at him, and he tried to relax. Last thing he wanted to do was worry him. It worked because Alan smiled and moved from Virgil's eyeline. In fact he removed himself from Virgil altogether, and for a split second Virgil felt bereft without that small hand in his.

That feeling of the oxygen mask was beginning to irritate him, and he reached up to move it only for Alan to pop back up in his field of vision, catching his hands again and holding them carefully but firmly.

'No, we're not touching the oxygen mask, remember?' Ah yes. There was a clear memory of these words being said before. And staring into Alan's eyes Virgil could see the smallest hint of a rebuke. He was the Medic. He should know better.

Too bad his Medic Brain was resolutely still unconscious.

There was the sound of someone else entering the room, and Alan looked away and nodded at the interloper. Then his attention was firmly set on Virgil again, and he leaned forward until his face was all Virgil could see. There was a cold sensation and he blinked. Tiredness seeped into his being and he closed his eyes.

This time when he woke up he opened his eyes immediately. Alan was still by his bedside, this time curled into the chair, headphones on and game system in hand. Turning his head to observe his brother was not the effort he thought it would be judging on the past time he woke up.

Virgil was quite content to just sit and watch Alan relaxed. He still couldn't remember what had happened, but everything else was beginning to wake up. Time to see if his Medic Brain was one of them.

Concussion. Something wrong with his right side – maybe cracked or broken ribs considering the pain when breathing. It was all he had been aware of the last time he had woken up, but now other pains were making themselves known. Right leg also injured, possibly broken if the cast he spied with that quick glance was actually there. Left leg not broken but definitely injured somehow.

He sighed. Looked like he'd got himself messed up again. The oxygen mask was now just an annoying waste of time, and he reached up much easier, only for Alan's hands again to stop him. Virgil huffed a breath, ready to say he didn't need it anymore, only for Alan to put Virgil's hands back down and remove the mask himself.

'No, we're not touching the oxygen mask, remember?' But there was the twinkle of mischief in his brother's eyes. 'That's my privilege.'

Once the mask was removed Alan helped Virgil sit up using the controls on the bed – promising that he wouldn't 'do a Gordon' – and once he was sitting a bit better Alan helped him with some ice chips to soothe his dry throat.

When he had had enough, Virgil caught his brothers hands with his own, pulling him slightly onto the bed to make it easier. There were no words that needed to be said, the hug said everything.

His brother was so small against him, but his brother had strength.

When Scott and Gordon arrived later after finishing up their rescue, John shushed them. The sight of Virgil sitting up with Alan curled into his side, both fast asleep, caused them all to smile fondly to each other.

And of course Gordon took a picture. For Alan's arm was across Virgil's chest and his hand ensconced in Virgil's.