Waking up in hospital always sucked. The moment he smelled that far too familiar scent of sanitized and medical, he knew he had let his family down, likely worried more grey into their hair and the next few whatever time length would be required to recover would suck even more.

He hated being grounded, he hated causing pain and he hated hurting his family.

But another conscious breath supplied him with the vaguest of recaps on how he had managed to land himself here, even before he opened his eyes.

Tornado.

Gordon.

The latter was enough to slam him into full consciousness and force an attempt to fling his eyes open.

Unfortunately, whatever he had done to himself involved his head and eyes and said body parts did not appreciate being called into service in the slightest.

And there was the pain.

He groaned and brought a tubing-tethered had to his head.

His fingers encountered bandaging and swelling and ow, ow, ow.

A few calming breaths and he brought himself under control. His head throbbed, but he could manage it. Gentle finger investigations sketched out that the whole side of his head was wrapped up and it sparked worry about what exactly was wrong with him.

The last thing he remembered was Gordon and blood.

He cranked an eye open. Apparently, only one was working, the other one felt swollen shut and there were spikey things that could possibly be stitches in his eyebrow. Probably meant wonky eyebrows again, but considering the bandaging, he probably had much more than eyebrows to worry about.

But Gordon.

Where was Gordon?

He blinked and winced as it triggered his injured eye as well, but it cleared what little vision he had.

And he was confronted with red flannel.

What?

It was his shirt on arms wrapped around a tousled mop of dark hair.

It took another painful blink for the owner's identity to register.

"Scott?" But his voice was whisper quiet and the head did not respond.

Virgil's neck felt stiff, but he had to move, had to find Gordon.

Looking to the left, beyond his big brother he could see the end of another bed, but the curtain was in the way.

Virgil's bed was tilted up, Scott's head resting by his left hand. His brother appeared to be asleep, shoulders rising up and down slowly and regularly.

Virgil quietly lifted his hand up and away from his big brother and tried to reach for the curtain to move it out of the way.

He couldn't quite touch it.

A shift on the bed, doing his best not to disturb Scott and he reached again.

"Virgil! What the hell are you doing?" A hand shoved the curtain aside.

Scott flinched and sat up, blinking. His hair stuck up in all directions.

But the voice was so Gordon, Virgil was swept with a wave of relief enough for him to collapse back against the bed. "Gords? You 'k?"

A rustle of sheets and bare feet on linoleum, and his blond and rather pale brother shuffled into view.

Tubing, not unlike that wrapped around Virgil's right hand, chained his brother to the bed behind him.

Meanwhile, Scott's brain had obviously booted enough to realise what was going on.

"Gordon! What the hell are you doing?"

Gordon ignored him and shuffled closer to Virgil's bed, his IV stand trailing behind him. But it was obvious not all was well with his little brother. He wavered a little and it was only a quick move by Scott that prevented a visit to the floor.

"Gordon what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I needed to see Virgil."

Scott's head shot around and targeted Virgil as if he hadn't realised he was awake. "Virg?"

Virgil frowned. "Scott, you okay?"

His big brother looked awful. His eyes were red-rimmed and his complexion was grey. For a moment there, Virgil wondered which brother was doing the most holding up.

"My god, sit down, both of you." His throat caught on the last word and he was coughing.

The world went wobbly and full of pain.

A door. Exclamations. Hands grabbed him and everything just hurt.

God.

Someone was holding him and stroking his hair.

"C'mon, honey, relax. Breathe through it."

A blink of purple and a familiar scent. God, he just melted into his grandmother's arms.

But...

"Scott-"

"Don't you worry about Scotty. He's going to get some sleep now that you are with us again."

"Grandma-" His brother's voice was almost as parched as Virgil's.

"Help Gordon back to bed and get some sleep. Use the bed you were assigned for good reason."

There was a shuffling of feet and muttered protests, but if there was one rule in the Tracy family, it was that Grandma's word was law.

She was still stroking his hair. "Now, Virgil, you need to relax. She nudged him back onto his pillow and he was drawn to open his eyes.

Grandma was assessing him, medical and motherly. Her hand reached out and touched his cheek. "Let's get you some pain medication."

"No..."

"There is no need to suffer, Virgil." And she was thumbing the call button.

A nurse appeared and there was conversation that Virgil had no energy for. His eyes sought out Gordon who was lying on his side ever so casual like, smiling at him. His arm was swathed in bandages.

"Good to see you, bro." The smile became a grin.

"You good?"

"Plugged and the tank has had a refill. Vintage red straight from the source." He pointed at Scott who was now sitting on a third bed in the room, obviously too stubborn to lie down.

One flannel sleeve was loose at the cuff.

"Scott, lie down." No wonder his brother was so pale. Virgil could guess the course of events. Determination. The arm stuck out and ready to be stuck with a needle to save his little brother.

Wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm okay, Virgil."

"Bullshit." But it was quiet, because his own status wasn't great and a tickle in his throat threatened him.

There must have been something in his expression, though, because Scott rolled his eyes and shucking off his shoes, he curled up on the bed...eyes watching both little brothers.

Why was he wearing Virgil's clothes?

A needle appeared and something was injected into Virgil's IV and from that point on everything was laced with fog.

John was there at one point, ever so tall and topped with copper. His musical voice asked Virgil a question involving the word tornado, but Virgil couldn't find the energy to answer.

Alan was hugging him.

Penelope...there was a Penelope until a curtain took her away.

And then there was sleep.

Blissful, blissful sleep.

-o-o-o-