Virgil awoke to the feeling that he was about to drown. Not actually drown – he had had secondary drowning before and it was not at all pleasant. No, this drowning involved somehow having agreed to something – it flickered at the back of his memory but honestly everything was a bit fuzzy currently – involving Gordon and Alan trying to be helpful, and there was no way he could go anywhere but where this river of chaos took him.
"What've I signed up to?" he asked the room somewhat groggily as he opened his eyes. Whatever had been put in his IV weighed down his bones and made his muscles feel like soup. Actually, he could do with some soup. Or some food. Or – fuck.
"Hold still, Virgil, we've almost finished."
Jeff ducked into Virgil's line of sight, gave a quick smile, and then disappeared again. Virgil felt something tear near his ankle, cutting through the fog like a knife, and he whined in the back of this throat.
"What–"
Immediately a face filled his vision.
"Hey, Virgil, did you know that hydrothermal vents can get up to four-hundred-and-fifty degrees?"
"Gordon!"
"Wait, no, think cool thoughts, think, uh, ice! And glaciers! And icecream, and that time Alan had to have an ice bath because he ran through the poison ivy, and when Scott gives you the Look and you know you've done fucked up and you feel cold water going down your back – actually that might just be sweat – hey Scott, you're pretty scary actually –"
"Thank you, Gordon." Something tugged around Virgil's ankle, moving up his calf, and he shifted on the bed, fingers curling into fists against the rough bandages.
"You're welcome, anyway, Virgil, you gotta think of anything but the heat. Think of the time we had to do the rescue in the snow and you got hypothermia and then got that bad cold and then spend the entire summer shivering every time the temperature got less than fifteen degrees, and then you had to go on that rescue while you were still sneezing – actually, scratch that, that was a hot rescue, we were at the volcano – you know, I don't think I've ever said you looked pretty bad-ass swinging down from Two like that, like, not cool-cool but almost cool? Know what I mean?"
Virgil screwed up his face. Liquid dripped down the sides of his face, he could feel it on his cheeks, and it was only a minute later that he realised they were tears.
"Uh, and that time you – Virgil?" A pause. And then a slightly more frantic tone. "Hey Scott?"
"Yeah – oh." Rustling. A lessening of pain. A hand in his hair. "Hey, Virge, we're almost done. It'll be over soon, we're just changing the bandages."
"Hurts."
"I know it does, I'm sorry. It'll be better soon." A soft sigh. "Gordon, can you grab some of the ice-packs? Hopefully that should bring down some of the pain."
Running, hand stroking through his hair, whispers, pain, something in his chest resembling hiccups that came out as sobs.
"Almost done, we're almost done."
Cold, freezing cold, soaked into his sides, into his legs, into his arms, and the foggy feeling deep in his bones increased.
Virgil relaxed a little more against the mattress.
Someone, somewhere beside him, was humming. It sounded familiar. Faint melodies drifted through his head.
"That's better, isn't it?"
"Yeah," he murmured in response.
"Gordon, the surprise can wait," came Jeff's voice, kind and firm in one, but there was an immediate protest nonetheless. Virgil risked opening his eyes, rolling his head to the side.
"What surprise?" There was that feeling again, like drowning.
"Due to unforeseen circumstances," said Gordon, drawing himself up in faux offence with his head held high and glaring at their father, "we'll be rescheduling."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm a real party pooper," said Jeff. He pointed at the door. "Out. Now."
"Rescheduling what?"
Virgil struggled to get his arms under him, trying to push himself up, but Gordon lost the act in a moment and both he and Scott held Virgil to the bed. Virgil did not miss the way Gordon's gaze darted between Virgil's legs where Jeff stood holding the remainder of the bandages and meeting Scott's eyes.
"It wouldn't be a surprise then, would it?" said Gordon with a grin. It seemed to flicker in Virgil's vision. "I'll see you later, and just so you know, with all this extra time, it'll be better than ever."
He hesitated for a second and Virgil had the nasty thought he was about to get a preview of whatever this surprise was, before he disappeared from the sickbay.
Virgil watched Jeff flick his head towards the door and Scott gave a nod. The eldest Tracy son exited as well.
"What's he planning?"
"If I knew," said Jeff with a sigh, "I would probably put a stop to it. Which, come to think of it, is probably why no one has told me." He raised his eyes from Virgil's leg to meet his son's eyes. "I won't be joining in though."
"I won't either."
Jeff gave a chuckle.
"I don't think you can help it, I'm afraid."
"I'll walk out."
"You most certainly won't." Jeff's face went from joking to deadly serious. There was a pause where neither of them said anything, but they both knew the other was remembering the vast number of times Jeff had caught one of the Tracy boys escaping the sickbay. "Virgil David Tracy, if I find you wandering around outside the sickbay, you will be in here for an extra week. Understand me?"
"Yes, dad."
"Good." He released a long breath. "Scott will keep an eye on Gordon anyway, and hopefully it won't get too out of hand."
Virgil gave a snort. He dragged a hand up his body to wipe the remnants of the tears from his face.
"'Hopefully' sounds far too optimistic."
-000-
It was not until the third day Virgil had been awake in the sickbay – the fifth he had been in there total – that the extravagant, most wonderful, most amazing thing you've ever seen, Virgil, I swear, was able to actually take place. And for all Virgil's trepidation, with Scott watching over the planning process he actually felt okay about it.
That changed, somewhat, when he opened his eyes to what looked like a desert cave. Everything was a dusty yellow and sheets shaded each of the windows. Silks hung across the ceiling and Virgil saw exactly three vases belonging to their mother filled with fake scabbards.
The little monster had watched every single changing of the bandages, had been pestering him constantly throughout the past three days, and he had still had the time and energy to set this up?
"What is this?"
The Terrible Two, who were crowded together at the entrance to the sickbay, glanced over. Virgil watched Gordon's face go from frowning and mature to an expression he had most recently displayed when he had put that frog down Scott's shirt last autumn.
"It's your surprise!" said Gordon excited. "Though with that look of surprise – and honestly, disgust, like, how long do you think this took me to set up? Show some appreciation – what did you think it would be?"
"With you two at the helm, I had no idea. All your talk of ice baths and smoothies, I guess I thought you would turn the pool into an ice bath with giant rubber ducks and get me a curly plastic straw all the way to the kitchen where a giant smoothie sat." Virgil coughed weakly and felt a sippy cup pressed into his hand. It was the only thing his bandaged fingers could hold and he hated it.
"Those were our second and third ideas, clearly, but both second and third rate respectively to this gem of a creation. Behold: Egypt."
A pause.
"Gordon," said Virgil, "where is this going?" Virgil knew Gordon well enough to know this was not his sole surprise. He would put money on it not even taking up half of what Gordon had planned.
Gordon grinned.
"Behold: the theatre." He held up his hands like a showman and, after a very long and very silent two seconds, the main sickbay lights went out. "Alan, you're fired. John, take over."
"Budge up," said John grinning as he stepped forward to take a small controller from where Alan sat beside the door. Alan huffed. "That's show-biz, kid."
Alan got to his feet and moved to sit by Scott, who Virgil had only just realised was sitting at the foot of his bed.
"What are you wearing?"
Scott glanced over at Virgil and then down at his suspenders. Suspenders.
"It's my costume," said Scott, hooking his one working and un-casted thumb in the waistband of his pants. "What'd'you think?"
Something about the shirt and the suspenders, and the way Scott had styled his brown hair, was ringing bells in Virgil's memory. Something from his childhood, something very, very relevant to the current events–
"Your – wait." He looked to Gordon. "Wait. No, no, wait. No."
"Yes," said Gordon. He moved to the side and the wall behind him lit up to reveal the projected opening credits of The Mummy (1999).
Virgil did not know what to say. 'No' seemed inadequate. 'You're making fun of me' also seemed lacking. 'What the actual fuck, Gordon, I needed distracting from these stupid fucking bandages and you've just given me a movie specifically about mummification' seemed closer to what he wanted, and he opened his mouth.
"Perfect timing, John," Gordon was saying, "you truly have the gift of special effects. Unlike some."
"No," said Virgil.
"Please don't," said Virgil.
"I'm begging you," said Virgil.
"Too late," said Gordon gleefully. "John, press play!"
Those not relegated to a bed – all but Virgil – either sprawled themselves on the beds that had been manoeuvred around the sickbay to face the screen or else lined up multiple chairs to form bed-like structures. John immediately fell asleep. Alan handed out – and threw – peanut M&Ms with great abandon. Gordon talked through the entire thing. Scott fiddled with his suspenders and one of the scabbards and caught the silks that fell from the ceiling like drunk birds and picked at his cast until Alan threw an M&M at him.
Virgil spend the great majority of the film sulking like a child.
"How'd he even do all this?" he hissed to Scott half way through the movie. "He's been in here the entire time."
"I came down to help," came Alan's voice, overhearing the comment and smelling strongly of peanuts. "We borrowed Dad's old projector and some of the old stuff from the junk pile in the hangar. M&M?"
Scott patted Virgil's foot gently through the sheet.
"Let him fuss," whispered Scott back. "He was really worried."
"Fuss or heckle?" replied Virgil. Gordon was currently commenting on the historical and cultural inaccuracies, which were many according to a website Virgil had never heard of.
"A bit of both," chuckled Scott. "I mean, I recommended Raiders of the Lost Ark but they thought treasure-hunting in a hot environment was too on-the-nose."
Virgil scowled, huffed, and turned to the screen.
He did not miss the many, many gleeful glances Gordon shot his way during the movie and, if he were not in full view of both John and Scott, he strongly contemplated flipping his younger brother the bird.
-000-
"I cannot believe you all subjected me to that."
"You're just lucky Scott didn't let him add in actual swords for effect," said John, somewhat wistfully looking at the empty scabbards. He had woken as the credits started playing.
"I stand by what I said," said Gordon, "authenticity is key and Scott is a fun-sucker."
Scott ignored him.
"How are you feeling?" he asked Virgil. Virgil put the sippy cup at his side and moved his arms under the blanket out of sight. There was not much point in a blanket when all of the blistering areas of skin were already covered in gauze but he appreciated the distance it gave his limbs from concerned eyes.
"I'm fine," he said. "Annoyed. A bit confronted. Full of unsolicited peanut M&Ms. But fine."
"Chill out, dude," grinned Gordon from where he was turning off the projector. "Think of it as a healthy lesson in how it could've been worse. I mean, you could've also been eaten by beetles as well, so," he shrugged, "bonus."
"Yes, thank you Gordon," said Virgil.
"But instead, you're just … too hot."
"Hot damn," muttered Alan absently from where he was trying to throw the last of the M&Ms and catch it in his mouth.
In an instant, Virgil realised what the song being hummed – incessantly – over the past few days had been. He scowled. And judging by Gordon's reaction to his facial expression, he had been holding onto the joke for the past five days at least.
"So help me," said Virgil, ignoring the scratchy sound of his voice and the rattle in his chest and the tightness of every single one of his limbs and instead injecting every bit of threat level he currently possessed, "if this becomes a regular thing I will kill you myself."
"You're just grouchy 'cos it's hot. Far, far … too hot."
"Hot damn," came the reply again. Alan missed the M&M and it skittered across the linoleum.
"Okay, everyone," said Scott, getting to his feet and tugging the dropped silks into one of the vases. His fingers lingered on the vase for a moment, and Virgil knew what he was seeing: their mother in her spring dresses as she added flowers to each and every one of the wedding gifts. Scott shook himself. "Bandages need changing and you all need dinner."
"I'm staying," said Gordon immediately.
"Smother hen," said Alan at the same time, though it was unclear whether it was directed at Scott or Gordon. "I thought we had a roster going."
"Do you now," said Virgil dangerously.
"I mean it," said Scott acting quickly. "All of you, out."
John smacked his thighs and got to his feet.
"You can't do it one-handed, superman," he said, eyeing Scott's cast. "Drag the rest of them out of here and go eat."
"I think we'll be just fine," said Scott. A look passed between them until John shook his head.
"Whelp, guess it's fresh fish and kumara chips for just me then," said John, heading for the door. "See you, Virge."
"Bye," said Virgil somewhat despondently. Fish and chips were not quite his favourite but they were high enough on the list that it was just another disappointment not to have working fingers or a settled stomach.
"Yeah, see ya Virgil," said Alan, trotting after John and waving as he went. The youngest Tracy paused for a second at the door, directed a glare at Gordon, and then disappeared.
"What was that about?" asked Virgil as the eldest Tracy son gathered the bandages. Scott shook his head and said nothing. Virgil frowned. Something was going on behind his back, between literally all of them and Gordon, and he hated it. But he trusted Scott not to say anything right now. And more than that, Gordon had a nasty habit of trying to distract him as he was getting the bandages changed, and he had started early.
"If you could go back in time though, where would you go? Or rather, when? Like, Egypt in 3000 BC would be cool, but also the Maya civilisation, or even just Stonehenge. So, basically, I think I just want to go whenever people were building big things. Like that giant carrot in Australia."
"It's in Ohakune," said Virgil through gritted teeth as Scott undid one of the bandages around his left knee with Gordon's help. It was the worst of all the burns, having been in the sun the entire time, and it had begun to blister. "That's in New Zealand."
"I know, I was just testing you, Mr Geography. How do you even know all these things anyway? You could give John a run for his money with all his 'Space Facts'."
"Or you with your – gah – your fish facts." Virgil screwed his eyes shut. He felt a hand on his shoulder, careful not to touch the part covered in bandages.
"I'll have you know that a dolphin is not a fish and I know plenty about them. Don't make me sound like some aquarium nut."
"What about – squid?"
"A squid technically isn't a fish either, it's a cephalopod, and they only eject ink like that when they're stressed." A sore point for Gordon, who had been told as a child by his older brothers – Virgil in particular – that the squid that had released its ink at the aquarium did not like his red hair and was trying to dye it black.
Virgil winced.
"Almost done," came Scott's voice from his other shoulder. Funny. That meant the hand was–
"Did you know otters hold hands when they sleep so they don't float away from each other?"
"Are you saying you want to hold my hand," asked Virgil, somewhat snappishly. The fact had come up every time he had had his bandages changed and he was starting to think it was leading somewhere.
"It would be preferable to getting you a leash." And there it was. The source of Gordon's frustration. "Not all who wander are lost, but you definitely were."
"I wasn't lost, I got heatstroke and passed out. And you can be damn well sure I'm not going to fall asleep ever again so you don't end up having to cling to me like a limpet."
"Like an otter, and you're missing the whole point."
"Gordon," said Scott, and Virgil opened his eyes. "That's enough."
Where Virgil had expected Gordon to be scowling and angry, instead his eyes were wide and hard and earnest all at the same time. That changed when Virgil met his gaze, and every emotion was tugged away into Gordon's back pocket to be covered by a blank stare. The hand at some point had left Virgil's shoulder and he felt its absence.
"I need a bathroom break," said Gordon, dusting off his hands. "All that water during the movie has given me a bladder like a sieve. Peace out for now."
The bathroom was next to the sickbay to the right of the doors and the walls were thin enough to hear the various health monitors while sitting on the toilet. Purely for safety reasons, Brains and Virgil had told the rest of the Tracys when the bathroom had been built. Nothing to do with the frequent escape attempts. Though now of all times Virgil deeply regretted the underhand blueprint changes.
"Scott, what on earth is going on?" hissed Virgil, keeping his voice low. "He's been tetchy since the movie finished – no, he's been tetchy the whole time he's been in here. In fact, why is he still in here? And why is he putting me through this?"
"Virge," said Scott.
"If I hear one more Mummy joke, or one more reference to Ancient Egypt, or–"
"Virge," said Scott more insistently but Virgil ignored him, winding himself up.
"–And every single time, it's that damn otter fact, it's not like I don't know–"
"Virgil."
Virgil stopped.
"Gordon was the last one to see you the morning you went missing. He had gone up to bring you a smoothie, but you'd disappeared."
Virgil's brain seemed to short-circuit. His logical mind, not driven by annoyance towards any Bruno Mars song or Brendan Fraser movie, rebooted. Gordon had been released from the sickbay days ago after his brush with heatstroke, Virgil knew enough first aid and enough about Gordon to know that that was the right course of action. But why – "Oh."
"Yeah, 'oh'." Scott sat silent as Virgil processed.
As much as Virgil felt some frustration with Scott for pointing out the truth, the further he delved into the issue the more his annoyance with Gordon cleared like the sun. He could now see it plain as day. Gordon, who conducted his prankster identity in a flawless performance most of the time, was now starting to show the cracks. His constant glancing over Virgil's bandages and his persistence in helping to change them, his continued presence in said sickbay, even the comments about the otters – Virgil could slap himself for not noticing it earlier.
"Oh," said Virgil again some time later.
"What are you going to do about it?"
There was no judgement in Scott's expression, but there was expectation. Virgil, in one manner of speaking, had caused grief to his brother – to all his brothers – and now Virgil had to fix it. Virgil briefly wished Scott did not have quite so much faith in him sometimes. Gordon was a tricky fish to reel in; he was undoubtedly one of the most emotionally mature of their family but he was also the family joker and unlikely to be pinned down to talk about his own feelings when he could help heal others'.
"I'm gonna talk to him." Virgil eyed the door and shifted on the bed. Scott shot out a hand.
"Whoa there!" Virgil frowned. "You sure are gonna talk to him, but you're doing it from the bed, understand?"
Virgil rolled his eyes but Scott only raised an eyebrow until Virgil gave a nod of acquiescence.
"I'll go get him." He gave a wry smile. "I suspect he's sitting waiting outside the sickbay until I leave anyway."
"He's waiting for you?"
"Ah, not quite," Scott rubbed the back of his neck and got to his feet, "I may have disabled the automatic opening system a little."
"You don't even–" but Virgil stopped as he was confronted with the fact that yes, Scott did clearly know the passwords, and yes, Scott was fully ready to use them.
"Virgil? Can I let him back in now?"
"Fine," he snapped in response, still thinking about changing the locks. He looked over to see Scott almost walk into Gordon, who was standing right in front of the doors looking as though he had stopped mid-pace. The redhead was wringing his hands and Virgil did not miss his almost frantic straining to see over Scott's shoulder to the bed where Virgil lay.
"In my defence," called Virgil, "I didn't know he knew the codes to the sickbay."
Gordon trotted over and reclaimed his seat beside the bed.
"Of course he knows, we all know. You might be good at art and painting and all that stuff but dude, your number-related creativity needs some work. Also you should probably update your phone password and, uh, your laptop password, and maybe that password you use for literally every online shopping website ever. Internet safety, man, it's a thing. Get with the twenty-first century."
"Wait," said Virgil, "is that where your new blanket-cape-thing came from?"
"Technically," Gordon held up a hand, "that was Alan's doing."
"And you were totally blameless, of course."
Gordon grinned.
"Virgil, you know me so well! But seriously, we all know the codes to the sickbay, it's not that hard. We just know how much you like feeling in control." He looked at Virgil superiorly.
"So you're telling me anyone could've escaped from here at any point?"
"Eh …"
Gordon rocked a hand from side to side. Virgil noticed his eyes move nervously around the sickbay. Before his discussion with Scott, he would have assumed all the times Gordon himself had very nearly escaped the sickbay without Virgil's consent were flashing before his eyes. But now? Now he could see the tiny shifting in the seat, the way Gordon avoided Virgil's gaze, the way his smile was more fixed now.
Virgil took a deep breath.
"Gordon," he said, trying to begin the discussion as gently as he could, "I'm okay. I'm not going away anywhere. I'm staying right here."
It was as if a shudder came over Gordon. He froze for a moment, bowed his head to his fists resting on the bed rail, and for a minute all Virgil could see was red hair and neck freckles.
"I knew leaving you and Scott together was a mistake."
Gordon gave a dry chuckle and finally raised his head again. The joking nature was diminished and the façade had been dropped.
"Virgil, I chased you out of the house," he said in a low voice. "I was meant to check you for injuries but instead I made everything worse. I made you go out into that heat and couldn't even help you when you got stuck. I was careless and stupid and then I was worse than useless. I got heatstroke, Alan got heat exhaustion, Scott skidded down a cliff. John – I don't even know what's wrong with him but I'm sure there's something. I put you all at risk by chasing you off."
He looked years older than his age, serious and steady-gazed and tired, and Virgil wondered for possibly the hundredth time when it was his red-headed brother had become a man.
"I couldn't help and protect you then."
"So you're doing it now?"
A vulnerable look entered Gordon's eyes and he glanced away to the windows.
"Gordon?" said Virgil, drawing out the name. "Is that why you're making sure I always have someone with me and why you're always there when the bandages are changed?"
"Maybe I want to enter the medical field. Always fancied myself as a doctor. The labcoat looks nice."
"More like a mad scientist," chuckled Virgil, wincing as his shoulders rubbed against the bandages, and wincing further as Gordon's head whipped around to stare at those very same bandages.
"I can – I could get –"
"I haven't seen you this unsure since that Tennessee rescue," mused Virgil, interrupting the stuttering offered help. "Actually, you know what, similar circumstances now I think about it. That was the one where John hit his head and got mild amnesia and you wouldn't swim for a month because you thought it was your fault."
"It was my fault."
"It most certainly wasn't, and I suspect John wasn't the only one with amnesia if you're forgetting how many times all of us told you that at the time," said Virgil sternly. "It was an accident, Gords, nothing more. No one was at fault. Not you, not John who was the one to hit his head, not Scott or Alan or me or Brains up in Thunderbird Five."
Virgil took a deep breath.
"But this time?" He let out a sharp exhale. "This was my fault for getting annoyed, for not listening to procedure. For storming off in a stupid decision in the guise of a smart one, and for causing all of you so much trouble looking for me. So this one? This one is on me." He gave a grim smile. "You get a guilt-free pass here, fish, I suggest you take it."
"No more wandering off alone during a heatwave then?"
"Nope, no more wandering off. From now on, only genius intellect is allowed in this head. Smart or bust." He grinned. "And before you go and swim – which I, as the biggest brain in the room order you to do – I would just like to say as I am older and more mature, it should be me protecting you."
"Yeah, you're positively ancient," said Gordon automatically. "That's why I need to look after you. You might fall and break a hip. You don't even have a life support button." There was no change to his grave expression but Virgil sensed something had changed. A change to the eyes perhaps? Gordon held himself a little taller, a little straighter, and seemed to breathe easier.
"You're such a brat."
"And you love me anyway," said Gordon with a grin. Virgil reached out a bandaged hand and pushed at his face.
"Hot damn," he said rolling his eyes. But they both knew he did.
