Virgil woke clearer and clearer as time went on. His head ached horribly and a mirror held up by Alan revealed exactly the state of his hair.
He was not impressed at all.
Brain surgery, apparently.
And gut surgery. He got a glimpse of his stomach during a dressing change and discovered his six pack had multiplied into something like twenty with some rather exciting scars likely to result.
Virgil wasn't vain, really, but it was going to be an ass to work himself back to health, much less back into his 'bird. It was enough to make a man swear.
And swear he did when he found out the details as to exactly why the building had fallen on him in the first place.
However, Politician MF, a title coined by Gordon and frowned upon by Grandma, had already been obliterated. The man's career was in tatters, his financial situation crippled, and he was currently a resident of the local jail.
A frown in John's direction produced a shrug. "Eos was unhappy and had the time." The thinning of his space brother's lips pretty much proved an alliance between father and daughter.
An arched eyebrow in Scott's direction only proved that the commander had turned a blind and incredibly upset eye away and claimed no knowledge of anything.
The media were having a field day.
The holoprojector above Virgil's bed told him many things.
The world had been advised by a very relieved Scott Tracy that Virgil was awake and on the mend. His brother had also expressed extensive thanks for all the gifts and outpouring of emotion from the general public towards his brother and International Rescue.
That was when Virgil discovered exactly what had happened while he was asleep. He still couldn't get out of bed, his abdomen not ready to support him sitting up quite yet, so it was his brothers who brought in the amazing gifts to show him.
Armful by armful.
Of course, that wasn't everything.
But it was more than enough. Stuffed toys, cards and flowers, apparently there were enough edibles to feed half the hospital and Virgil was ever so fast to ask if there was a paediatric ward. He was reassured that Scott had already seen to it and these were the leftovers...that were still accumulating.
Virgil was rendered speechless.
He picked up a small hand-crocheted Thunderbird Two with googly eyes. Those eyes bounced at him as his hand shook. A fabric tag had been sewn in with a 'Get well soon, Virgil' stitched on it.
He blinked as his eyesight blurred.
His room was full of similar items. There was even a hand-stitched doll of himself in full uniform. It was…overwhelming.
A hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Gordon already tried voodoo on it and it didn't work." Scott's smile was honest and distracted him enough to stabilise his emotions.
"Gordon would."
Scott's lips thinned a little and had Virgil wondering exactly what Gordon had done with the doll. It looked in one piece from here.
"They love you, Virg. You do good."
"We do good."
The hand on his arm squeezed gently. "Yeah, we do."
"I want to thank them."
"I already have."
"I haven't."
"Virg-"
"Can you set it up for me?" It wasn't often Virgil spoke to the press and he was fully aware of the mess he was in at the moment, but he wanted to do this. "Please?"
Scott sighed. "Only when you can sit up. I'm not having the press in here. Your health comes first."
Virgil pressed his lips together stubbornly but took the offer for what it was.
"And I will be with you." Scott's expression brooked no argument.
"I guessed that." He reached up slowly and placed his hand over his brother's. "Thank you."
Scott grunted, but his eyes smiled anyway.
-o-o-o-