Scott had John to thank for many things. It had been his space brother who had run the gauntlet and killed off the argument in the comms room.

Scott's heart had been beating a mile a minute, the sight of his father standing beside his desk, so angry, blurred with that long-sought image he had clung to in his mind for all those years.

Red hair and aquamarine eyes had blocked the mirage, a hand landing on his shoulder. "Scott, it's okay."

He frowned at his little brother. "John, no." This was for Virgil. Dad had to understand.

"Give Dad time." The words were enunciated clearly and firmly and Scott was captured by that aquamarine. John's eyes were intense, communicating the need for patience. A glance in his father's direction and he found the man leaning heavily against his desk, staring at the floor an expression of pain and loss on his face.

Grandma stood beside him, her hand on his arm, talking to him quietly.

Scott blinked.

Aw, hell.

"Scott?" And he was drawn back to his brother's eyes yet again. "Walk with me?"

He blinked again. "Okay?" John was still in his spacesuit and Scott could see the subtle indications of the active gravity support in place. He pressed his lips together, but John smiled just a little at him and squeezed his shoulder. "C'mon, big bro, show me that rockfall on the eastern slope you were telling me about."

Still Scott hesitated, but it was the sight of Gordon corralling a worried Alan that decided it. Perhaps Alan and John were here for a good reason.

His eyes tracked to Grandma, the person likely responsible. She had her hand on his father's cheek and was still talking. She didn't turn in his direction, her focus entirely upon her son.

Her son who had been missing for eight years.

Scott's heart hollowed out and he dropped his head to stare at John's feet a moment before facing his little brother once again. "Okay."

John's half smile was kind and he turned, leading Scott from the room.

One last glance at his father and a pair of sad grey eyes looked up.

Scott straightened just a little and wished for things that could never be.

-o-o-o-

They didn't make it as far as the rockfall. John drew him to a halt not far from the house, along his morning track, and told him to sit down. It was Thunderbird Five talking and long habit had him obeying. There had always been a question of who was actually in charge of International Rescue. John was a frontline contender.

There was silence for some time as his brother pulled up a rock beside him and they both stared out at the ocean. The breeze was gentle, but a touch cold for this time of year and that made it brisk against his skin.

John was known for preferring the hermit life, holed up on Five, but Scott had to give him credit, he knew more about people than he let on. He knew how to play the ebb and flow of a conversation, more as an observer than a participant, but those eyes saw everything.

"I knew about Virgil's tattoo." The words were quiet and his brother didn't look in his direction, speaking to the ocean rather than Scott. "And I think...I think you handled it well."

Scott stared at him. He shouldn't be surprised. John kept many secrets. "How?"

This time his brother did turn to face him. "I was there that night you found him."

Scott's blood chilled. That night had been hell. That day had been one of the worst. An entire three generations of a family lost in a flood and his brother almost with it. Virgil's survivor's guilt had driven him to the edge. It hadn't helped that they had lost their father only months before, that Scott had lost himself for a while there and that he had to admit it, Virgil had taken up the slack while the whole family stumbled.

And it had almost broken him.

Yes, there was a share of his own guilt there amongst those dates. His own failure as a brother and the need for Virgil to etch in those numbers every time they lost someone.

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, it was. I should have been there for him."

"You were."

"But not enough."

"It was a hard time."

Scott let out a frustrated breath. "No excuse."

"You're as bad as he is. You can only shoulder so much responsibility."

"Yeah, well, this responsibility is mine."

Scott shoved himself to his feet, his runners crunching on volcanic gravel.

John sighed, standing up beside him. "You got him through it. You did everything you could."

"Dad's right."

"Dad's wrong!" His brother's words were sharp. "Dad's in shock, he's worried, and, I hate to say it, he's discovering that while International Rescue survived, some things didn't."

Scott froze, staring at his brother. "What do you mean?"

John frowned at him. "Things had to change, Scott. Surely you can see that."

"I..." He had tried so hard to preserve what his father had started. He had kept the spirit, the drive, he had so wanted to make his parents proud. But the truth of his own words haunted him.

They had done the best they could.

The thought that their best wasn't good enough in his father's eyes tore at his very soul.

But John's hand was once again on his shoulder. Hell, he must look bad if his reserved brother felt the need to reach out.

Hell, that wasn't a fair thought. John...he closed his eyes and wrapped John in a hug. It was rare and his brother squawked, but Scott needed it and he knew John was willing to give it.

He wouldn't be here if he wasn't.

And predictably, space-suited arms wrapped around him and held him tight.

Was John getting taller? Goddamn, the man was all muscle and height, a vast difference to his three other brothers.

"Scott, I need that ribcage." It was strangled, but amused.

Scott let him go, his own breath coming out in an embarrassed huff of air. He looked down at his shoes, his eye tracking a small beetle as it scurried across the path. His thoughts idled as his brain desperately tried to right itself and he wondered if Virgil or Gordon knew the species.

It spread its wings and flew off, taken by the breeze.

"Thanks, John." His voice was rough and tied up in emotion he didn't want to acknowledge. He looked up to find the tiniest of smiles on his brother's face, those eyes full of what only could be considered love.

Scott bit his lip.

Goddamnit.

He reached out and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "When did you get so damned tall?"

The smile became a grin, the aquamarine dancing in amusement. "When did you get so short?"

Scott reached for his brother's hair, but the astronaut ducked out of reach before he could muss that orange mess.

"You'll have to be faster than that."

"Is that a dare?"

John snorted. "Me? Dare the great Scott Tracy, speed addict, to go faster? I'm not that insane." But his grin told a different story.

Scott grunted.

"Anyway, you going to show me that rockfall. Virgil said there was some olivine?"

"Virgil said what?"

"Green rocks?"

"Oh, yeah."

John smirked.

"You know, you are asking for it."

"Maybe, but can you deliver it?" John turned and started walking up the trail as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Scott glared after him. John knew that Scott wouldn't tackle him this close to re-entry and certainly not with his gravity support functioning. He muttered under his breath and made a note to strangle him in a few days' time.

If he was still on Earth.

-o-o-o-

The rest of the day passed quietly. Scott spent some good time with John as they first walked to the landslide and discussed 'green rocks' - yes, he was definitely going to strangle his brother at the first opportunity, possibly Virgil as well, once he was better. Of course, thinking of Virgil sobered him dramatically. John picked up on it and dragged him further around the Island.

It had been a while since his brother had made the trek around the rim of their home and Scott gained the experience of seeing it all anew through John's eyes, despite having made the run himself that morning and every other morning prior.

First looking down at the open ocean pounding the north side of the Island, its raw energy thrown against volcanic cliffs. Then up at the sky which had a scattering of windblown clouds skating across the Pacific from the general direction of Tonga.

His mind automatically supplied the speed he would need, the likely turbulence, his flight path off the Island...

If he had wings, he would have taken flight.

The fact John was smiling fondly at him again, had him grunting and stalking off further down the path.

John knew him far too well.

Eventually they did return to the villa, but by then Scott felt so much more settled, more centred, more able to take on his father calmly. To face what needed to be faced.

But he didn't expect to find Virgil confronting his father when he should be in bed. Didn't expect to find the anger in Gordon's expression or the pain in his father's.

It brought him up short.

"What's going on?"

-o-o-o-

End Part Seven.

TBC