Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.
Prompt from liseylou: "Cold hands in warm hands" with Scott and Virgil
Having his heart in his mouth wasn't as rare of an occurrence as Virgil wished it was. His brothers all seemed determined to give him a heart attack on a regular basis, and while it often wasn't directly their fault (accidents were accidents), that was of little comfort when he was a beat too late.
Scott's fingers - bare in their fingerless gloves - brushed his as he lunged, the touch a scorch of failure as his brother fell. He didn't see what caused it; one moment Scott was next to him, laughing as he coaxed him higher, and the next he was gone, blue eyes wide as he crashed down the crags.
"Scott!" The cry of his brother's name was instinct, as was the lunge to catch him. His harness caught him, staying strong where Scott's had failed, leaving him swinging dizzyingly from the rocks.
There was a lake beneath them - some sort of tarn, to be exact - and it was with a muted sort of relief that Virgil heard the splash of something landing in it. It wasn't a good end to a fall, but it was better than being broken across the numerous crags surrounding them.
"Scott!" he called again, his voice echoing back at him from the surrounding crags. There was no answer, not even the sound of water splashing, and his heart stayed firmly lodged in his mouth as he clutched for the crags again, resecuring himself to the same rocks that had failed Scott, and hurriedly scrambled down until he was at the base of the crag again.
Fingers fumbled with his harness, impatiently unhooking himself from all the straps that had kept him safe even as his brother fell. It felt like it took an hour, even though it was barely a minute, and then he was stumbling down to the water's edge, staring out at the expanse of the tarn for any sign of his brother.
The surface was skimmed with ripples, the wind breezing across the surface and distorting the reflections of the surrounding mountain. There was no Scott.
Virgil waded in, picking his way across the shallows until it got too deep. Submerging himself, and flinching as some startled fish abruptly changed direction right in front of his face, he forced himself to pause and look around.
There was a reason Gordon's uniform had vibrant yellow accents, and that Thunderbird Four was similar. The blue of their uniforms stood out beautifully in most terrain, but underwater it blended in. Scott's grey baldric didn't help him stand out at all, and Virgil spent longer than he cared for looking around to find him.
He wasn't moving, a lifeless body nestled on the tarn floor, and Virgil charged forward with less care for the environment than perhaps Gordon would have appreciated, but Scott wasn't moving. He reached him, hovering awkwardly in the water as he grasped at his brother.
Scott's eyes were closed, and Virgil was beyond grateful they were both wearing helmets. Something had snagged his brother's baldric, tying him down, and it took several seconds before he could wrestle it free, the ensnaring foliage tearing in the process.
He couldn't see how injured Scott was from the fall, but there was nothing to be done for him underwater so he gently looped his arms around the limp body and pushed off for the surface. The tarn wasn't deep, only a few kicks needed before their helmeted heads broke the surface.
His brother still didn't stir, leaving Virgil to tow him gently over to the shore and letting the shingle at the edge cradle him as he reached for the medscanner and ran it over Scott. Yellows and oranges greeted him, highlighting where he'd been bashed against crags as he'd fallen, but nothing flagged up as serious.
Virgil let out a breath, his heart finally sinking back down into his chest where it belonged, and removed first his helmet, and then Scott's. His brother's hair was dry, proof that the helmet had done its job, and Virgil brushed his fingers through it once before shifting to catch Scott's hand.
It was freezing, a frigid shock against Virgil's own as though to remind him that Scott had spent several minutes stuck at the bottom of the tarn. He tugged off his gloves, discarding them on the pebbles by his knees, before gently peeling off Scott's and cradling the bare skin between his palms.
The medscan hadn't registered Scott's core temperature as an area of concern, the cooling of his extremities normal and expected after a dunking, so there was nothing but instinctual worry over the chill. Still, Virgil held the limp hand up to his mouth and carefully breathed on it, massaging the palm and fingers until they regained some colour, before repeating the action with the other hand.
Scott let out a quiet groan, brows furrowing for a moment before his eyes flickered open.
"Ow," his brother muttered, the hand not currently in Virgil's clutches pushing him into a sitting position. Virgil dropped the hand to wrap an arm around him in support. "Virgil?"
"Right here," he confirmed. "Do you remember what happened?"
Scott grimaced and glowered up at the crag they'd been climbing. "Rock gave way," he grumbled. He went to make his way to his feet, but Virgil stopped him.
"I'm calling an end to today," he said firmly. "Let's go back down." Following the trails this time, and not clambering over crags.
Scott groaned. "I'm fine, Virgil."
"Tell me that again in a few hours when the bruises sink in and your body starts complaining," Virgil retorted. "We still have another two days here, Scott. We can call today early and get some of Brains' anti-bruise cream on you before it gets too bad."
His brother groaned but notably didn't argue any further. He did, however, make another attempt to get to his feet, and this time Virgil reluctantly helped him, wrapping an arm around him as he stumbled.
"Come on, big brother," he coaxed, stooping to retrieve their discarded gloves and shoving them in his baldric. "Down we go."
If he caught one of Scott's still too-cool hands and used it to gently tug him in the right direction, then it was just to make sure he didn't wander off.
Thanks for reading!
Tsari