He hunted down his father first. 'Hunted' was an exaggerated term since making his unsteady way to his father's office, wading through the fog that persisted in his head while listening to Gordon desperately trying to get him to go back to bed each time he stumbled was hardly stalking of any kind. As it was, he had to pause outside his father's door and gather himself. He straightened his spine and tried to shed the dregs of the medication and the fatigue that came with it.

His father was a strong man. Even after his eight-year ordeal, long term injury or no, the entrepreneur had an apparently inexhaustible well of determination.

He was an older version of Scott.

And just as obstinate.

Swallowing, he raised a hand and knocked on the wooden door.

"Enter." It was distracted, but not unexpectedly so. If Dad was angry, he would bury himself in work.

Ever so much like his eldest son.

The door slid back and Virgil took the necessary steps towards what he knew was coming.

His father was sitting at his desk, rifling through holograms, a frown on his face. It took him a moment to realise who had entered.

"Virgil! What are you doing out of bed?" Grey eyes targeted his fish brother just behind him as his Dad stood up. "Gordon?"

The aquanaut held up his hands. "Hey, have you ever tried to stop Virg from doing what he wants to do? Easier to stop Two by stepping in front of her."

"Gordon." Virgil's voice was sharp, but he couldn't help the fondness that came with it.

His father appeared a little mollified, his frown a touch softer. He waved Virgil to a chair. "Sit down before you fall down."

As Virgil shuffled over to one of the two chairs opposite his Dad's desk, his father returned to his own seat and went back to juggling holograms.

Gordon hesitated a moment before joining Virgil and taking the other seat.

And they waited.

His father's eyes darted over data as his fingers flitted over reports. Virgil was suddenly struck by how much Dad was like John in that moment. He didn't look much like his middle brother, but his actions, poise and efficiency screamed the lithe astronaut.

Shouldn't be a surprise. Had to come from somewhere.

"Sorry, Virgil, I just need to quickly send a document to…" His fingers hit several holographic controls. "…there." A wave of his hand and all the holograms blurred and disappeared. Fiery grey eyes landed on Virgil, their piercing full attention somewhat more daunting than that of his eldest brother, but very reminiscent nonetheless. "Now, why are you out of bed? Your grandmother is not going to be happy."

"You have some questions about my tattoo." Straight to the point.

Dad shifted in his seat and moved a datapad to one side on his desk, his eyes turning away to follow his hand. "I do, but they can wait until you are better." Those eyes darted to Virgil's bandaged shoulder, but his father didn't say anything further.

Virgil's eyes narrowed just a bit. "No, I don't think they can wait."

That earned him the return of that fiery gaze. "You should be resting."

"I should." Virgil let his head drop just a little in agreement. "But this can't wait." Not with Scott in the firing line for Virgil's weakness.

"Why not?"

"Scott."

"Explain."

"For some reason you apparently believe my tattoo is his responsibility."

His father's lips tightened and Virgil could sense his mind reaching for the correct words.

"I have some questions as to why this issue hasn't been seen to by a professional."

"You mean a psychiatrist."

"If necessary."

"It has." Virgil was painfully aware of Gordon's eyes widening. "The tattoo was seen as a compromise."

"For what?"

"That is not on the table for discussion." It was no one's business other than his own.

Those grey eyes pierced into his soul, their worry a physical thing. "I only want to understand, son."

Virgil blinked, a sigh escaping despite his determination, and he looked down a second. "Dad, it hasn't been an easy life."

His father visibly swallowed. "If I had known..."

Virgil frowned. "Known what?"

"That it would be too much for you to handle-"

Gordon shot to his feet. "You have got to be kidding me."

Virgil would have grabbed his brother and yanked him back down as his father stood, anger in his shoulders, but the sudden flood of failure was overwhelming.

Their father squared with his brother across the desk. "Gordon, this has nothing to do with you."

"You bet your ass it does. Virg is the strongest of us all. So, he has a coping mechanism, big deal." His eyes flashed. "Beats the hell out of an alcohol problem."

Virgil flinched. "Gordon!"

"You got something you want to say, son?" It was a challenge. A red flag.

"You know what? Yeah, I do."

Gordon took a step forward, but Virgil reached up with his one good arm and grabbed him. "Sit down, Gordon."

"Virg-"

"I said, sit down!"

It may have been reflex on his brother's part due to their command structure, but whatever it was, Virgil was glad Gordon did as he asked. His expression was stormy and obstinate and, no doubt, he would flare again soon, but he shut up.

Virgil pushed himself slowly to his feet. His spine straightened and his shoulders set as much as they could. He would never be as tall as Scott or his father, but then he had never felt he needed to be.

His voice was quiet and a little sad. "Dad, I have been doing this job for ten years." He took a step forward. "I have given International Rescue everything...everything...I have." He paused, catching his father's eyes to drive his point home. "And yes, there are days where I am not enough. Everything I have is simply not enough. And on those days people die. Babies, children, women, men, entire families slip from my fingers simply because I'm not enough. Those are the days I despair. Those are the days where my skin itches and my soul screams for redemption." He sighed. "Can I handle it?" He shrugged and tried not to wince. "Well, I'm still alive, Dad. It hasn't killed me yet."

The older man opened his mouth to respond, pain in his eyes, but a knock at the door interrupted them.

His father sighed, but his eyes didn't leave Virgil and Virgil didn't back down.

But then, Scott barged into the room uninvited. "Dad, I need to speak to you..." A blink as he trailed off. "Virgil? What are you doing up? You should be in bed." And now a pair of blue eyes scrutinised him, that ever familiar worry in their depths. But then his brother connected the dots - the anger in Gordon's expression, the worry in his father's and the determination Virgil was no doubt screaming.

"What's going on?"

-o-o-o-

TBC