Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Thunderbirds Are Go - they belong to the late Gerry and Silvia Anderson.
Author's Note: A massive thank you to JanetM74 for keeping me sane and looking out for me!
Sorry it took a while to sort this prompt out for you! I hope you enjoy it!
From the Tumblr Febuwhump 2022 Alternate Prompt 3: Shrapnel.
Darkness.
And a high-pitched ringing.
Those were the first of the five senses that registered amidst the sluggish confusion in the back of Virgil Tracy's mind.
'What…?'
After what felt like half a lifetime, the raven-haired pilot made an attempt to move - only to find that he was unable to.
Something was pinning him down and in place against the cold, hard floor.
Something solid.
And warm.
'What… the heck happened?'
His head was throbbing - almost as if someone had taken a jack-hammer to his skull.
And the ringing…
That irritating, high-pitched ringing sound which continued to assault his ears refused to go away; exacerbating the pounding within his cranium.
With a lot of effort and a deep groan, Virgil finally managed to crack an eye open.
Dust.
And debris.
His chest heaved - once, twice - before irritated lungs were sent into a coughing fit, and he was suddenly made very aware of the uneven hardness that was digging uncomfortably into his back and right shoulder blade.
'Shit… That smarts…'
"Virg…?"
He froze at the sound of the voice.
Familiar…
And yet…
It still took a moment for his addled brain to recognise who the voice belonged to. It was almost as if someone had stuffed cotton wool in his ears, which was certainly not helped by the reverberating sound still in his head.
"Virg… You with me?"
"M'here…" the response he managed to croak out was sluggish. Slurred. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Virgil wondered if he had sustained a concussion. "W'happened?"
"I'm not sure…" the fuzziness of the voice above him was becoming steadily clearer. More comprehensible. "Something triggered a series of detonations…"
The annoying ringing in Virgil's ears was starting to ebb. He only wished the same could be said about his terrible headache.
After another seemingly long pause - and much effort - the dark-haired pilot finally managed to force both of his eyes open.
He blinked slowly.
Once…
Twice.
A gloved hand gently wiped some dust and debris from the cracked visor of his helmet, and his vision was suddenly significantly clearer.
"Better?"
Ideally, Virgil would have nodded his head in response. However, right now, he definitely did not trust himself to do so without the risk of vomiting. Instead, his eyes met with concerned blues above him, and he managed a somewhat wry quirk of his lips.
"S-Scott…?"
"I'm here, Virg," his brother gave him a reassuring smile in return. "Try not to move. Anything hurt?"
"My head…" Virgil grimaced in reply as he attempted a mental check of any injuries. "Lower back… Right shoulder…"
Above him, Scott gave a nod of his head. "You might have a concussion. Just try to stay still, okay?"
Crystalline blue eyes seemed to study him for a moment - Scott's appearance almost ethereal as the light from within his own helmet illuminated his face - and Virgil could feel a warm, gloved hand gently probing around his right shoulder; moving methodically around the joint.
"There's no blood. That's good…"
For a moment, Virgil could not quite figure out if his older brother was addressing him or just thinking aloud.
"Ah-ha!"
Something shifted carefully beneath him, and whatever had been digging rather uncomfortably into his right shoulder blade was cautiously removed. Almost immediately, the dull pain and discomfort was replaced with some relief, and - despite their current circumstances - Virgil let out a small sound of content.
"Better?"
"Thanks," the raven-haired pilot sighed before pausing for a moment in contemplation. "Though I don't suppose you could get off me? No offence, but you're heavier than you look…"
"Well, well, well… What do we have here?"
The two International Rescue operatives stiffened at the new voice that rang out over the still-settling debris. Virgil could feel the prickling sensation of the hairs on the nape of his neck reacting to the newcomer.
Not good...
Before his still-sluggish mind could further react, his brother let out a startled, odd-sounding yelp, and Virgil felt the sturdy weight of his brother suddenly leave him.
"I thought I heard some pests scratching around," Fuse grinned - his grip unrelenting as he lifted International Rescue's Field Commander into the air with ease. "Looks like this'll be a 'two birds, one stone' job."
Gritting his teeth, Virgil struggled to prop himself up on his shoulders, giving Fuse the most intimidating glare that he could muster. However, whatever words - be that a threat or insult - were on his tongue came to an abrupt halt as soon as his eyes locked sight with the two above him.
Or rather.
Those multiple shards of twisted metal that had pierced not only his brother's jetpack, but also through the material of his flight suit.
Deep crimson patches stained a good portion of the blue fabric - some of it already running down in rivets and dripping steadily onto the ground.
Virgil visibly grimaced.
Oh, crap.
Really not good.
Above him, Scott let out a choked sound; gloved hands clawing in a futile attempt to loosen Fuse's tight grip around his throat.
"Don't..."
Initially, Virgil's still-addled mind thought it had been himself to speak up in protest.
However, he soon realised that it had been his brother - despite being both wounded and having his air supply restricted - who was the one speaking. His voice was raspy, the words hissed out through gritted teeth. "Don't you fuckin' touch him...!"
"You're not in any position to tell me what I can and can't do," Fuse sneered in reply, his dark brows knitting together intensely before he hurled the injured Field Commander forcefully to the side. "I'll do whatever I want!"
Virgil winced as he heard his brother collide into solid debris with a broken sound; hitting the ground hard. Ignoring the sharp pain in the back of his skull, the raven-haired pilot craned his neck in the direction of his fallen sibling.
Scott did not stir.
The view of his brother was suddenly obscured by hefty, metal boots, and Virgil redirected his gaze to see the Chaos Crew's heavy-hitter grinning menacingly down at him.
"Your brother told me not to touch you," Fuse stated, the tone of his voice almost mocking as he rolled his shoulders. "But, I've never really been one to take instructions..."
Fuse closed in quickly, and the last thing Virgil felt was another sharp pain in his head before everything went black.