For the fluff prompt generator: Virgil having to help Scott undress after an injury.

This always sucked.

Always. It was something he would never get used to, no matter how often it happened, and unfortunately, it tended to happen more frequently than he would like.

One of the few prices he paid being the eldest brother.

He grumbled from the stretcher as the sounds of One flying off home without him echoed around the infirmary on Two. It didn't matter that he wouldn't be flying his baby for quite a while, judging from these injuries, nor did it really matter that Alan was more than competent to pilot her (and, no, he would never tell Alan that).

No, what mattered was that she was his and he wasn't flying her.

John's hologram broke out into a huge smile, one that Scott couldn't fail to notice from where he reclined. He frowned at his absent brother, and if anything that grin got wider. 'Careful, brother dear,' Scott drawled, 'or I may send baby brother up to relieve you.'

That wiped the grin of John's face. Temporarily. 'It's nice to know that having a building collapse on you hasn't broken your sense of humour at least, big brother,' John retorted, grin reappearing.

Scott took that for what it was. Relief. Relief that five brothers hadn't suddenly become four. Relief that the injuries sustained, while multiple, were limited to broken bones and not anything more life-threatening.

He also appreciated that John was trying to keep him occupied until Virgil was able to get back. They still had a rescue to finish off, even if it was winding up, and the pain relief, while strong, wasn't actually enough.

Thank god he had an extremely high pain tolerance. He only wished his metabolism didn't match it, because then the pain relief would last longer. He sighed.

Virgil bustled in, all business and orders and instructions for Gordon to be doing this, that and the other (none of which involved flying his brother's bird, Scott noticed bitterly). Gordon scurried away, knowing that the next few minutes were time for Scott and Virgil alone, no little brothers allowed.

Scott relaxed back onto the stretcher, knowing what was coming next. John flipped him a salute which was suitably sloppy for a non-ranking officer from NASA, and he grinned back in reply, watching as John disappeared and was replaced by a larger-than-life Virgil.

Virgil was already deep in medic-mode; and watching his middle brother as he set up the scanner and various implements he might need, Scott marvelled at the skill and concentration that just exuded off him. There really was only one other person Scott trusted with medical matters, and Grandma had taught Virgil well.

As if sensing that Scott was watching him, Virgil looked up and grinned, almost sheepishly, as if being caught in medic-mode was a bad thing. Scott gave an equally sheepish grin back, a little embarrassed because he knew what was coming next.

'You've outdone yourself this time, Scott,' Virgil started, keeping one eye on the scanner while talking. 'Starting from the top, then. Broken left shoulder, multiple fractures to the left humerus, ulna and radius. Three cracked and two broken ribs. Multiple fractures to both legs. Multiple contusions, possible some might turn into haematomas.' Virgil sighed. 'At least your jet pack meant that your spine wasn't injured, although you're going to sport some impressive bruising.' He sent the scans through to the island.

'Why don't you just give it to me straight, Doc, rather than bedazzling me with all that medical mumbo jumbo,' his brother replied, a twinkle in his eye regardless of pain he was in.

'Straight, Scott?' He grinned back, then put on his poker face. 'Straight. Right. Well, sir, I have reason to believe that sir will not be flying anywhere for at least three months, maybe more, depending on how well sir listens to the advice of his medical team and does as he is told. Based on past experience, I believe that it is highly unlikely that sir will listen, and that sir will definitely prolong his medical leave by at least two weeks, depending on how reckless sir chooses to be.'

Scott frowned. At least three months! While not actually the longest he'd been out of action, the timeframe was worrying. With the new team the Hood was using, the so-called (and aptly named) Chaos Crew running about, he couldn't afford to be out of action that long.

'Three months, Virg? Three months! I can't be out of action that long! Is there no way to speed this up?' he asked. Virgil smiled sympathetically, shaking his head. 'You've got some major injuries there, Scott. You have no idea just how lucky you were.' He turned his back on his brother as he busied himself grabbing something off the tray of implements.

'I – I thought for sure you would be dead this time. That building was flat, Scott, flat like a pancake. There was no way you should have survived that.'

Scott wanted to reach out, to comfort Virgil, but he couldn't, and his brother knew that, turning back to Scott and placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder and giving a light squeeze. He then held up the instrument of Scott's torture in the other hand.

'Time to get you out of that suit so that I can start patching you up.' Scott groaned. How many suits would that make? At least Brains wouldn't complain that this one was salvageable. He sighed heavily.

'Ok, Doc. I'm ready.'

Virgil took the special scissors and cut away Scott's baldrick first, setting it aside as it needed different treatment than the suit did. He began at the collar, cutting firstly down Scott's uninjured side, down the neck, along the arm, down his side and pausing there.

He moved to Scott's left side, and with deliberate care, he run the scissors over the suit in the same way, stopping at the waist. He then cut along the waist and peeled the uniform back, leaving it hanging over the stretcher. The legs received much the same treatment, the underneath parts of the suit left hanging while the top sections he removed completely and hefted into the bin.

Despite the warmth of the infirmary, Scott was slightly shivering by the time Virgil had finished, and he knew his brother was likely going into shock as his body caught his brain up with what had happened. Scott might not like the next part, but Virgil couldn't even temporarily treat his injuries while he was conscious, let alone finish undressing him, and so he reached over to grab the syringe he had prepared.

Scott's right hand shot out and grabbed Virgil's wrist. The manoeuvre almost made him pass out, even though it was his uninjured side. Their eyes met, and Virgil sighed. 'Come on Scott, you know I have to do this. It will be much easier for both of us.' He let his brother's hand go, and turned away, the only confirmation Virgil would get to go ahead.

Giving the sedation a moment to work, Virgil called their Grandma. He wanted confirmation that Scott wouldn't need a hospital after all, some of those fractures were a little worrying, but she had looked the scans over and decided that between them they would manage.

He turned back to Scott, finished removing his arming tunic, and set about binding his injuries as best as possible. Proper care and treatment would be given once they arrived at the island. He then covered his brother with a light blanket and called John to watch over Scott while he flew them home.

Home couldn't come fast enough.