This chapter was written by the wonderful Katblu42 who you can find over on Ao3 :D Thank you for your amazing writing :D
-o-o-o-
As soon as news of Virgil's injury broke the swell of public support for the fallen hero began. Comments on social media sites bursting with well wishes and hopes and prayers for his swift and complete recovery – a trickle which quickly snowballed into an unstoppable avalanche. It was mere hours before the first financial donation collections were set up. Soon the comments were joined by stories of "that time Thunderbird 2 saved me/my (insert family member, close friend or colleague here)". There were beautifully crafted poems, video messages, people composing music or performing songs, artworks from children and adults alike. Every one a well-intentioned message of support to lift the spirits of a man few knew much about outside of his IR role, and those of his family – all heroes in their own right, and all hurting.
On the second day cards and letters began arriving at the hospital, various Tracy Industries facilities and – as they discovered some days later – the official IR mail address. Over the next few days the collection of stunning artworks, painstakingly handcrafted cards and gifts, flowers and stuffed toys grew to a mountain - a physical representation of the huge emotional outpouring directed toward the man who put his life on the line to save others.
The brothers were aware of it all, but unable to respond. Emotionally it was beyond them, and the sheer number of individual responses required was physically impossible.
Eos quietly catalogued and stored every digital message, story, performance and artwork in case Virgil might ever want or need them.
The physical gifts were collected and stored. (All done quietly by a small, dedicated team of Tracy Industries employees who banded together to make sure the thoughtful offerings were treated with the love and care with which they had been sent.) They too would be catalogued – scanned or photographed so they could be remembered. The flowers would adorn various rooms within the hospital – too many to fit in Virgil's room alone, even if they had been allowed in there. The toys would eventually be donated onward, just like the money. But the messages were compiled with a plan to possibly bind them into some kind of book.
It hurt to have their brother lying there so still and unlike himself for so long. Each of them aching to have him respond to their words, their touch. It should have helped, knowing how much love there was in the world for their heavy lifting brother. But in some ways it just hurt all the more.
-o-o-o-