Virgil doesn't know why his grandmother continues to try and cook. She is atrocious at it and yet so brilliant in so many other beautiful ways.
Why she feels the need to do so much more, he has no idea.
She is his grandma and one of the permanent things in his life.
Greying blonde hair and a laugh as Grandpa drags Virgil in from the fields covered in a mix of dirt and oil.
"Squirt has the making of a mechanic, Sal. More interest in pulling the tractor apart than driving the thing."
His grandmother snorts and smiles at him. "Well, at least he won't be testing the tractor's speed limits like his brother."
"Nah, I reckon he'll be the one fixing it once Scott has finished with it."
Grandma's smile wrapped around him as she leant over and pulled grass out of his hair.
"Virgil, talk to me, honey." A pause. "Please."
He shuddered and pain shot up his belly and slapped him back to reality. There was a weight on his chest. "Grandma?" His voice was gravel.
"Virgil, are you with me?"
Something sparked out of his sight and lit up broken masonry.
A mountain of it.
A fizzle and a rain of more sparks. Rock groaned and shifted.
Virgil held his breath.
Darkness reclaimed the space around him.
"Virgil?"
He let out a moan. "Grandma."
She smiled at him and offered him a cookie.
He eyed the plate. They appeared okay. No burning. Maybe she had succeeded this time?
His first bite proved them to be uncooked in the centre. And not in a nice way.
But even at seven, he adored his grandma and would do anything for her, so he swallowed and smiled. "Great, Grandma."
Her blue eyes sparkled at him.
"Virgil?"
"I love your cookies, Grandma."
She frowned, reaching out a hand to caress his cheek. "I love you, honey." Her eyes were so similar to Allie's, so full of life. "Your brothers are coming. You hang in there, you hear me?"
Her touch was so gentle, so reassuring. He wanted to fall into it.
"Now, squirt, we have some work to do, don't we?" His grandfather was holding out his hand. "Us builders have a responsibility to look after those we are rescuing."
He frowned. "Grandpa?"
And he was in the fields, a roll of fencing wire in his hands. The fence lay broken again.
Grandpa was nowhere to be seen.
But a familiar figure was walking across the grass. Tall and willow-thin in youth, hair trimmed back to the almost nothing of a military cut.
He always wore shades of the colour of his eyes, like a piece of the sky fallen to the ground and forever trying to get back up there.
"Virgil? Can you hear me?"
Scott.
His weather vane. His direction.
His big brother.
"I hear you."
"Virgil! We're coming! You hang in there!"
Virgil blinked. "Grandma said the same thing."
His brother grew closer, suddenly directly in front of him, a hand landing on Virgil's shoulder.
"Have you finished the job?"
Another blink and Virgil looked down at the fencing wire. "No."
"Every life is worth saving."
"I know."
"Then finish the job."
He stared at his brother and the sky suddenly lit up, sparks in darkness. "Scott?" His voice rasped in his throat and pain vibrated with it.
Something was horribly wrong.
"We're coming, Virgil. Hang on."
Hang on. He was hanging on...to something.
Someone.
The space lit up in orange again, sparks followed by flame.
Enough to light up the little boy in his arms.
-o-o-o-