"Gordon's alive."
Two words. But the best two goddamn words Virgil had ever heard in his life. Relief surged through his tense muscles and the grip around his heart loosened, though the knots in his shoulders remained with the reminder of the agonizing hell of the past few hours. Timed with precision, he raised his left hand for his co-pilot's high five.
It was a beat later than usual.
Right, he remembered, because it was Alan and not Gordon beside him.
"What happened?" Virgil demanded. "Is he alright?" There was something in the way that Scott spoke, a timbre that he couldn't quite place. It wasn't fury or fear – but it was something. "Are you alright?"
"What? Yeah, I'm fine." Scott replied. "Uh - he's alive and standing. But… Virg, can you hurry? We need you."
That sounded worrisome. "Scott?"
"Just get here." The comms went dead, intentionally that time. So, he did what any other worried brother would do. He listened, pushing Thunderbird Two just that bit beyond her limits to get to his siblings.
Thunderbird Two tore over Montana where the Rocky Mountains dipped into wide-open plains. The ranch, as it came into view, looked innocent enough. But just as their own Gran Roca home had a hidden belly of bunkers for their equipment testing, John and EOS had already run scans on the farm area to reveal the labyrinth of tunnels and chambers below the surface.
He warned his siblings accordingly. The site was more than met the eye.
Keeping a wary eye out for movement around the main house, Virgil landed his steadfast girl near to her agile sister. Then, he and Alan scrambled out of their seats to meet up with Scott and figure out what the hell was going on.
Scott was waiting for them outside the landing zone of Two, but nearby enough to bound over as they stepped foot onto the grassy flatlands. And he appeared to be alone.
Virgil knew the strain in Scott's face as well as he knew his own paints tubes and could read which expressions were focus, which were stress, and which had the names Virgil, John, Gordon, and Alan written in tension lines (he was self-aware enough to know he definitely was included in that list). This was… different, as strange as the tone earlier, and the fear in his gut coiled painfully tighter from the not-knowing.
"Where's Gordon?"
Alan grabbed him by the arm. "Virg-"
But his eyes were undeterred in their query for a clue in Scott's face, meeting an unfamiliar dullness to those electric blues as they flicked downward – not to avert, but with a request to follow.
Oh f–
Virgil inhaled sharply and felt Alan's grip tighten around his forearm.
"Gordon!"
Well, it was better than the alternative - in that anything would be better than the fact that five minutes ago they all thought Gordon was dead. The pulse in Scott's carotid visibly throbbed, and now that Virgil was looking, it was obvious there was a stiffened tilt in his neck to give Gordon more room as he tucked himself in closer, clutching onto Scott's uniform collar like it was the only thing keeping him standing.
"Oh man, G!" Alan exclaimed. "Who's the short stuff now?"
"Alan," Scott started, about to tell him off.
Gordon interrupted at nearly the same time, his voice inexplicably diminutive for his usually dynamic personality. "Still you, Sprout."
Scott explained the circumstances around how he found Gordon, filling in details from what Gordon told him earlier of the story around his capture. Virgil growled low in his throat, getting angrier the more he found out about the ordeal. He hated this; hated what this man had done to his family.
"How do we fix this?"
"We need to know what he was injected with," John advised. "Gordon? Anything you can tell us?"
He shrugged. "It was blue. It hurt when I was hit with it, but that could've been the force of the dart. It knocked me out after."
"We need Havoc to tell us." Scott exclaimed. "Kayo, you here? I knocked Havoc out and secured her around the side of the house. Maybe she's knows-"
"I'm here, Scott," came Kayo's voice. "But I'm afraid Havoc is not." In that moment, the rumble of take-off reached their ears. The Chaos Cruiser darted into the sky away from them.
Hope fled as quickly as it came, and for a beat comms were quiet and the world still.
John sighed but was the first to break the painful silence. "Scott, Kayo, we should still search the facility. See what you can find."
"FAB. Stay where you are, Kayo, and I'll meet you. Virgil, can you-"
"I got him, Scott. Go." Virgil leaned in and reached out for his brother. "Come on, Gordo, I'd like to take a look at your injuries."
"What about me?" Alan called out beside him, directing the question to Scott.
It was Gordon who answered. "Come with us, Al. Save me from how boring Virgil is in doctor mode."
It would've been a normal Gordon comment under normal circumstances, the typical brotherly rub that he'd heard many times over and would not have thought twice about. But these were not normal circumstances.
This time, it triggered Virgil's own version of Squid sense. Something – well everything – was off with Gordon.
Because when Virgil had reached for his brother, Gordon had hesitated.
There was a word for John's level of pissed – angered wasn't strong enough, seething wasn't quite right as it implied his ire was internally contained, and irate was the word Scott used when describing some of their more unreasonable clients. His anger was not unreasonable; it was justified, a normal reaction to the roller coaster of finding out your younger brother had been taken - to he might be dead - to we found him and he's injured - to he's also lucky if he's four inches tall and we don't know what to do about it.
Not feet. Inches.
"John," EOS inquired. "You seem rather—"
Vexed? Outraged?
"—infuriated," she finished, finding the right words for her inquiry among her databanks.
"I am." Intent green eyes scanned the computers, back pulled so tight against his uniform that his shoulder blades could slice bread. A blossoming spread of pink from the back of his neck revealed the heat that crept up to his ears, and he channeled the pounding of his racing heart into the movement of his fingers across the screen and the determined chase of words.
"I would like to help, John."
He felt the ache left behind by grinding enamel as he loosened his jaw slowly. "Okay, EOS, of course. Scan for all known blue chemical compounds. Look for molecular modification that results in alteration of size." He sighed. "We don't have much to go on."
"Analyzing." After a beat she finished, quicker than John would ever be, even with his university famous speed-reading abilities. "Data has been sent to Brains. Looking for alternative compounds that may help Gordon Tracy."
"Thank you." John turned to her gratefully – in time to catch a flash of red lighting across her screen. "I – EOS! Are you okay?"
"The Hood has hurt our family," she answered sharply. "Expanding search to organic material."
"You are angry too." John recognized that fire, that same obsessive urge to escape into research instead of processing feelings. Like father like daughter. It was not a comfort to see that particular trait echoed in his progeny. "EOS-"
"Kayo to Thunderbird Five. Come in, John." He heard in his sister's voice exasperation, but no urgency.
"Go ahead, Kayo."
"Can you tell your idiot brother that this is not his fault?"
Typical. "Scott, this was not your fault," he agreed, knowing Scott would be able to hear him through Kayo's unit.
"But if I had secured Havoc better, we would have had a lead."
"Maybe, but –" She may not have had any clue in the first place, he wanted to tell him, but an incoming call told him Alan was reaching out at the same time. That could be urgent, as Alan was the one with Virgil and Gordon. "Ah – hold on Scott, I have to switch over…"
"Alan?"
"John! I don't know what to do. Virgil can't help Gordon."
"Turn that off," he heard through the comms, a voice so distant, or more likely so small, that he could barely hear it.
"But-"
"Off."
John sucked in a breath as the call went silent.
"You still have Scott and Kayo on hold," EOS advised beside him.
He heaved a sigh. "I am aware."
"And you are frustrated."
He nodded. "I can't be there to help."
"Why can't you?"
Kayo's call blinked away.
"I have to be here to find answers."
"Really?" She sounded offended. "Have you considered that I can look for answers? And I'm much faster than you, John Tracy." She had him there, and as he thought it, another flash of red light signaled her irritation. The AI equivalent to an eye roll. "Sending all possible and theoretical organic compound combinations to Brains. I have also sent copies to your file."
Two more flickers on the screen in front of him let him know his siblings were calling back – Virgil this time and Scott.
He hesitated.
"I can take care of things here. International Rescue will be short staffed with Gordon - injured." Her lights softened, the calls continuing to sound as they conferred. "They need you. Let me help."
She was right. "EOS -"
"Wonderful!" Her lights did a circuit in the round. "I'll answer Scott. Maybe they've found something. Transferring Virgil to the space elevator. All results will continue to be sent to your datapad. And John," she said, pausing a moment, "promise to keep me informed."
There was no doubt that Four was his bird, and therefore his loyalties would always be with her. But Thunderbird Two was her closest sister – and he spent more time with her than even his own ship. Not all rescues were sea rescues, but most rescues required the use of at least one pod and Thunderbird Two to bring them there.
Two would always be Virgil's, but he'd by lying if he didn't admit that Two inspired in him her own sense of security, of stability and safety. Many times he'd seen that look of awe on the faces of the people they rescued when they realized they'd get to ride in the green titan of a ship, and that somehow her size and weight load could still challenge some of the fastest ships of their time. Thunderbird Two was not as fast as One or Three, but she was not slow. Two could hold back mountains, carry the heaviest of burdens, and cut through turbulence with the mildest of nudges, laughing at the attempt to push against her solid form. She was much like her pilot in those ways.
She was an amazing creation from his brother's mind, and Gordon loved her for it. Though, few would truly understand that the things they admired about Two, her steadfastness and gentle protection amidst her size, were extensions of her pilot.
His fingers weren't as long as Scott's, but Virgil's hands were wide with the span to stretch between octaves with ease, sensitive in how they loosely could guide the smallest of paintbrushes over canvas, and yet his grip was firm, his palm callused from lifting. Virgil was both strong and tender, and Gordon always felt comfortable in Virgil's hands as his teammate in work and brother in life.
By all rights, being in Thunderbird Two's medical bay with Virgil attending to him should have felt like home. Relief, after what he'd been through. His body, with epinephrine still coursing through, didn't seem to think the same, his heartbeat rapid in his ears and sweat sticking to his uniform at his chest. The pain he should have been feeling in his ankle and the cuts on his arm was a dull ache.
It wasn't over.
Virgil was talking.
"I'm just going to grab a med kit," Virgil said. "Don't go anywhere." His brother's voice was loud in his ears.
A cackle. Oh, I was never going to let you go, Gordon Tracy.
After a few moments of quiet, Virgil set the kit next to Gordon on the bed and started rummaging through it. With a pair of small scissors, he carefully cut the suit where it compressed around his injured ankle and up towards his thigh, but he halted once he reached Gordon's torso.
"Can you take off the rest of your uniform for me, Squid? Brains wants to examine it for contaminants once we get back to the Island. See if he can figure out what's caused this."
Thank you for the demonstration. A clatter of metal on dark stone.
He shut his eyes. Let his hands do the work.
Turn the pin until you feel it catch.
"Alan, can you please seal this up?" He didn't even remember taking the suit off, but Virgil held it clasped between the tongs of a pair of technical tweezers. "Okay, Gordo. We don't think the medscanner will work for your size, and we're worried it could hurt you. So, we have to do this the old-fashioned way. Can I see that arm of yours?"
"Gordon? Earth to Gordon?"
"Thanks, I got this, Alan."
"Clearly. He's barely moving."
"Ah – no," he coughed, catching up with the request and holding out his arm. "I-I'm here."
Soft fingertips, the ones that could coax out concertos, supported his arm with the lightest of touches, and Virgil's face moved in close to examine the wounds. Gordon shut his eyes quickly and breathed heavily through the onslaught of images. That horrible, menacing grin as Virgil toyed with him.
Not Virgil. The Hood. You're running out of time, Gordon Tracy.
He was leaning in so close that he felt his skin crawl.
The aroma of sandalwood from Virgil's shampoo slammed into him, so overwhelming that he felt his breath catch in his throat and he flinched from the force of it. And yet, tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes as his lungs caught up and the woodsy scent enveloped him like a blanket. The Hood could never have stolen that.
He was with Virgil. In Thunderbird Two.
He inhaled, grounded himself in sandalwood, and opened his eyes.
Virgil was fumbling with the gauze, a few too large strips discarded to the side as he tried again to cut it down to Gordon's delicate size. With the smallest strip clenched between his fingers, he began to wrap the small sliver of the healing bandage around Gordon's limb, struggling with hands too large to wield it.
"I can't… Ugh!" Virgil's hands, normally so steady, shook. He tried it again with the tweezers, and, with a frustrated clash, he threw them back into the medical kit when the gauze was still too loose.
"You taught me field medicine," Gordon rasped as he gestured for the bandages. "So, I can take over, if you cut everything down first."
"But, Gordon—"
"Please, Virgil. I can do this." He tried to meet his eye, to tell him he meant it. Sandalwood, he thought amidst the strong, brown gaze. "I just want to get home." Meanwhile, he heard Alan connecting with John through the communicator. "Turn that off, Alan! We're fine."
"But –"
"Off!"
"Gordon, What about your foot?" A tentative touch prodded the pads of his feet.
"I promise you, it's just a sprain. I can wrap that too."
"I need to do this."
"And Ineed you to take us home." A heavy sigh, and Virgil's expression told him that he didn't like it, but he would do it because it was his brother asking. They agreed to have Alan take over with cutting down bands of gauze and medical tape, and they dialed in Grandma to keep them both company in the medbay.
Virgil stepped back reluctantly and turned back towards the cockpit of Two, with a sparing glance at his siblings before he stepped back through the threshold.
Gordon closed his eyes – Oh, I was never going to let you go – and let Alan babble over him as the fragrance trail of Virgil's shampoo dissipated