Please ignore any and all plotholes as they sail past :D
-o-o-o-
Grandma turned tearstained eyes in his direction and her mouth opened as if she was going to say something, but before either of them could utter a word, the door to the infirmary slid aside.
Virgil, shirtless, slumped against the doorframe as if it was all that was holding him up. One arm was useless against his side and his complexion was as white as the paintwork on the walls. Voice hoarse and heart-breaking, he reached out his good arm. "Grandma?"
What to do was unspoken, but obvious. His father went to his mother's aid. Scott went to Virgil's, his arm sliding under his brother's before he could fall on his face.
Virgil's groan as his weight shifted to Scott, said everything.
He manoeuvred his protesting brother back into the infirmary and slid the door shut behind him, shutting off Gordon's worried eyes.
"Talk to me, Virg." He didn't need to ask the questions. They were obvious.
Virgil slumped onto the bed, but didn't lie down, his good arm holding him up. His voice was whisper hoarse. "Fell off Two. Dislocated shoulder, busted wrist." He vaguely gestured in the direction of his limp limb. "Got caught in the safety line as I fell."
Scott winced at the thought. Ow.
But Virgil didn't give him time to comment. "Grandma and Gordon caught me on the way to my quarters. Was going to comm you, but I didn't get there. Grandma was not impressed." His brother's worried eyes stared at the closed door. "She kicked Gords out so I could tell her what happened. Cut off my shirt…" Virgil swallowed and his eyes searched for Scott's. "She saw the tattoo."
Aw, hell.
As if summoned, their grandmother shoved the door aside and strode back into the room. There was enough fire in her eyes to light up anyone who stood in her way.
Her face was pale and her eyes red. Dad and Gordon edged in the door behind her, concern for both the matriarch and the wavering Virgil radiating off of them.
Grandma parked herself directly in front of the injured man. "Why?"
A weary exhale as Virgil faced her head on. "Because I have to."
"No. No. No, you don't." Her hand waved it all away. "We contribute by saving lives."
"They deserve to be remembered." Virgil screwed his eyes shut in pain.
"Not like this."
"Grandma…" But whatever Virgil was going to say was lost in another groan as he shifted on the bed and jarred his arm.
Scott's response was immediate. "You know what? I don't care. What I do care about is the fact is that Virgil is in pain. We can discuss this later." He shot a look in his grandmother's direction. "We need to set Virgil's arm and splint his wrist." Scott slid off the bed and steadied his brother with one hand while grabbing a scanner with the other.
Gordon moved to the opposite side of the bed, no doubt to provide support should his brother need it, but the moment he caught sight of Virgil's back, his eyes widened. "Woah, Virg, what the hell have you done to yourself?"
Scott's voice was tight. "Gordon…" But his father's cane clacked on the floor as he made his way around the bed.
Grey eyes widened. "Virgil!"
His brother slumped where he sat only to whimper and tense up.
Virgil's eyes glistened in the overhead lighting.
Scott's anger flared. "This is not a goddamned sideshow!" He glared at his parents before turning back to his poor brother.
The scanner showed exactly what Virgil had reported - dislocated shoulder, broken wrist and a whole pile of strained and painful muscles.
Scott's body ached in sympathy.
"Grandma, Virgil needs painkillers, a splint and his shoulder reset. Are you able, or should I?" It was harsh, but how long had Virgil been sitting here in pain?
"Scott!" His father's voice was sharp.
But Grandma was moving and that was Scott's intention, what was needed. She filled a hypodermic, every move tight with anger. Her eyes latched onto Virgil and she told him what drug she was using.
Virgil's single nod was resigned and so sad, Scott's heart lurched.
But the drug was administered. As Virgil slowly slid sideways, Scott caught him gently and held him close.
His fingers catching on scars.
-o-o-o-
The medication was more a muscle relaxant than an anaesthetic, but when combined with the necessary painkiller it had the effect it always had on Virgil and sent him to the edge of consciousness.
Grandma's fingers were sure and nimble as she set Virgil's wrist, wrapping it in a splint.
Virgil rested against Scott's shoulder, his eyes closed. Scott would have thought he was asleep, but he knew his brother better than that. The flinch of pain and the frown when Grandma moved his wrist was proof enough.
The quiet breath of 'sorry', was even more.
Scott held him just that little tighter.
Dad had moved to the end of the bed, his eyes still tracking Virgil's bare back. The anger and worry in that grey gaze spoke of long and anguished discussions in the near future.
Gordon wasn't much better, but there was no anger, only worry in his brother's eyes.
Grandma continued to glare, but her hands were sure and professional. The difference was, her anger obviously included Scott and not just Virgil.
He could acknowledge that this was on him. But he had done the best he could.
As had Virgil.
His brother protested, somewhat clinging to Scott, as they nudged him upright so Gordon and Grandma could relocate his shoulder.
"C'mon, Virg. One last thing and you will feel so much better and you can rest."
The whimpered 'no' repeated, and Scott had to put some muscle into it. He got Virgil sitting upright and held him there.
Gordon clenched his jaw, took hold of the injured arm, and…
Virgil's cry of pain was enough to bring tears to his fish brother's eyes.
Scott supported Virgil as Grandma tested the shoulder joint for movement and scanned it thoroughly before strapping it up.
Her lips were ever so tight, but it was her blue eyes that hurt the most. They reflected the emotion he had seen in Virgil's eyes all those years ago.
Despair.
So much despair.
Scott's heart clenched, but then it steeled, his own lips thinning. As Virgil finally relaxed against his shoulder, all Scott felt was the need to protect the injured man from those eyes at the end of the bed.
Because Dad was still staring.
And frowning.
Grabbing at the bunched-up sheet on the bed, Scott untucked it and yanked it up and over Virgil's injured shoulder, hiding him from prying eyes.
Virgil let out a sigh into Scott's shirt and relaxed just that little more.
Dad's eyes flashed.
Scott straightened where he sat. Not much, but just enough to get his message across.
"He needs rest." Grandma's voice was rough, her hand on Virgil's knee.
"I'll see to it." Scott's words were a dismissal and Grandma received the message loud and clear.
She swallowed. "We need to talk."
Virgil stirred, but Scott held him tight, one hand combing fingers through his hair to calm him.
Scott caught his grandmother's eyes. "We do, but not now." He flicked his gaze to his father. "I've got this."
Dad obviously didn't like it, but his mother grabbed his arm. "Jefferson." With a final glare at Scott, she dragged her son from the room.
That left Gordon.
"Scott? What happened?"
Fingers through soft hair. "It was a long time ago, Gordon."
"But…"
"We'll talk later."
The faith in those brown eyes meant more than Scott could express.
Gordon gripped his shoulder a moment, glanced at Virgil with that worry in his eyes yet again, turned and left, shutting the door behind him.
The room was suddenly very empty.
The white walls accused him.
And Virgil sighed into his shirt.
-o-o-o-
It was quite some time later when Scott finally made it to the comms room. Virgil was always fragile under the influence of medication and it had taken some time to get him settled and to sleep.
There was dread for the coming conversation, but Scott Tracy was never one to back off from a confrontation and this was important.
So, when he did walk into the room, it was with his defences firmly in place and steel in his spine.
To find both Alan and John in the room with his father, grandmother and Gordon only increased his ire.
They had no right!
"How is Virgil?" Alan's eyes were as worried, if not more, than those in the rest of the room. It mollified Scott just a little.
"Virgil is asleep." He left it at that. Alan didn't need to know about the repeated, barely coherent apologies or the fretting. To Alan and Gordon, and to a certain extent, John, Virgil was the strength of the family. The rock. The immovable. Almost indestructible. They didn't need to know their older brother's insecurities or his fears. Virgil had sworn Scott to secrecy for a damn good reason.
Scott had agreed with that reason.
"I want an explanation." His father stood beside his desk, a spitting image of what Scott had dreamed of all these years, and now...
He straightened his shoulders. "It is Virgil's private business."
Grandma took a step closer. "I would think it is a matter of Virgil's mental health."
Scott turned to his grandmother. "It has been taken care of."
"When? Why is this the first I've heard of it?"
"Some time ago, and because, as I said, it is Virgil's business and no-one else's."
His father frowned. "He has death dates carved into his back!"
Scott didn't miss Alan's flinch and it only made him angrier. A step in his father's direction. "And I have them carved into my memory. I don't see your point."
Stormy grey met his challenge. Carefully punctuated words. "There is a difference between remembering those we've lost, and vandalising your own body-"
"It has been taken care of." The words were sharp and a warning.
"Obviously, it hasn't. The last date was a month ago!"
That stilled the room a moment. But then Gordon spoke up. "Cass. You're talking about Cass McCready." The sadness in Gordon's eyes tore at Scott's heart.
"Yes. Cass."
Grandma looked away as Scott's three brothers wilted just a little.
It made his father's question lonely. "Who?"
Scott stared at his Dad, but before he could open his mouth, John stepped into the conversation. "Chief Cass McCready with the London Metropolitan Fire Department. She and Virgil worked together on several rescues. They were friends. She was attending a building collapse. We were called in and Thunderbird Two was inbound." He paused. "We were too late."
Scott bit the inside of his cheek. He knew about it, of course. He'd ridden the grief with his brother late at night. There had been a time where Scott had thought that maybe Cass would be the one for his brother.
It was not to be.
And another date had been added to the tally.
Because tally it was. Virgil's list of loss. All those he felt needed memorialised because he hadn't been able to save them. Wrapped in art and elegance and the weave of history.
He swallowed. "I beg of you. Let this be."
"How can you ask that?" His father's expression could only be described as a mixture of worry and horror. "This is your brother. He is in pain."
Scott flared. "Yes, he is. And he is managing it the best he can."
"Scott-"
"NO!" He flung up his hands. "No, Dad. Leave it! It is under control-"
"He is my son!"
"And you weren't here!"
The sudden silence in the room was profound. Scott was aware of his brothers' eyes wide and staring at him, but it was the shocked grey eyes that pierced his heart.
He swallowed, voice rough. "I'm sorry, Dad. We did the best we could."
-o-o-o-
End Part Four