:PART 2:

-x-

Chapter 1.

May 2058 (5 years later):

"…severe whiplash, four rib fractures, lots of soft tissue damage…"

Virgil felt his heart leave his body as Gordon was wheeled through the doors of the Honolulu Trauma Centre.

"…impact from a hydrofoil power boat travelling at over 400 knots…"

It had all happened so fast. One minute, they'd been celebrating his victory over Sam Burnside at the Honoulu Water Show. The next, they'd been hauling his limp body out of the sea, unsure of whether he was dead or alive.

"…fractures of the vertebrae…"

Virgil was the calm one of the family. The one who always kept his feet on the ground, no matter the situation. But even he was no match for the tsunami of emotions crashing over them all. Fear, despair, panic, anguish, and perhaps worst of all, helplessness.

No, he'd couldn't afford to think like that. He'd hold out for his brother's survival until the last atom of oxygen left his body.

"…possible paralysis. Recommend inducing a coma…"

Being powerless to save someone you loved was the worst kind of torture. Virgil wasn't haunted by thoughts of mortality, thanks to the impressive track record he had when it came to defying the odds. Death was an unavoidable part of the rescue profession, both for the people he tried to save and for himself. He'd made peace with the decision to put his life on the line, but he'd never be at peace with his brother's decision to do the same thing. He knew they felt the same way, but there was nothing any of them could do about it.

Gordon taking a possible one-way trip to ICU wasn't a risk any of them had anticipated when they'd woken up that morning. He'd merely been taking part in a boat race with one of his colleagues from WASP. A harmless bit of fun, or as harmless as a race with boats travelling half the speed of sound could be. It had been intended as a fun day for the entire family, one of their first trips out since their father's accident with the Zero-X. Gordon's victory had been a moment of pride for all of them, proof that even through the ashes of grief, they would prevail.

Virgil stood up and began to pace, unable to sit still. The waiting room they'd been ushered into was an assault on the senses. Brightly coloured posters and photographs stared down from the walls, their overly positive contents offering attempts at distraction. A lavender diffuser hummed softly in the corner, a vase of softly scented hibiscus sat benignly on the windowsill, and a jug of freshly made lemonade was brought in by an overly-attentive receptionist. The entire environment was almost utopian. And yet, somewhere under the same roof, Gordon was fighting for his life.

Virgil swallowed hard and glanced at his brothers. More than anything he wanted to embrace one of them. To feel their heartbeat against his as proof of their grip on life. He was usually the one responsible for dishing out hugs during times of crisis, but knew he was in no position to give what he himself needed. It was only natural to seek reassurance in times of uncertainty, but that process became complicated when you yourself were the one others usually turned to for comfort.

A tremor of grief shook his frame. He knew he was overestimating the danger and underestimating his ability to cope. They still didn't know how badly injured Gordon was, and even if the prognosis was bad, they had the money to pay for whatever surgery or therapy he could possibly need. What was truly unbearable was the thought of potentially having to adjust from a family of five to a family of four. They'd barely come to terms with losing Jeff, and now possibly Gordon as well.

It was too much.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Scott stood up and caught Virgil in a hug when his pacing next took him past his chair. It wasn't brief and practical one like the ones he usually gave. This one was deep and meaningful, and promised to last for as long as Virgil needed it to. Comfort oozed from the tightly packed muscles of his shoulders, and Virgil found himself melting into them as he fed off the unbreakable inner strength his older brother seemed to possess.

Over on the chair nearest the door, Alan finally broke down. He had no idea what was going on. He knew that Gordon was hurt and that they couldn't see him, but that was all. His brothers refused to tell him the full extent of what had happened, giving his imagination free rein to fill in the blanks with the most terrifying details he could think of. Sitting in silence had been uncomfortable, but just about bearable. Seeing Scott and Virgil hugging was its own brand of terrifying. The last time he'd seen them behave in such a way had been at their dad's funeral.

Like the quiet sentinel that he was, John reached over and pulled Alan into a hug of his own. He'd been blessed with a highly technical mind which, although an academic blessing, made rationalising the current situation hard. One of his biggest strengths was his ability to extract a solution to a problem from the murky depths of the problem itself. Being twenty-two thousand feet above earth gave him the enviable ability to look down on everything, both figuratively and literally. It gave him a sense of detachment that made him excellent at his job, but at the same time, ill-equipped him for the day a distress call came in from a member of his own family.

And that day had finally come.

The door creaked open, revealing a tall man in medical scrubs. He was about the same age as Parker and had the look of a person who had seen and heard it all.

Scott released Virgil and moved to stand at the front of the group, his mind readying itself to catch whatever diagnosis was thrown at them. He knew it made no difference, but a small part of him believed that if he placed himself square in the path of whatever was coming, he could at least protect the other three from the worst of it.

"Dr West? How is he?"