They decided to stay the night at the manor. It was an uneasy dinner. Not much was said, each member of the family caught in thought.
Grandma flittered like a bird from one brother to another with caring words and a kind touch. The woman was all clothed steel - gentle on the surface, sharp and possibly lethal underneath. The whole reason why she was such a bad cook was because she had spent her life focussing her talents elsewhere. Virgil idly wondered if the solution to this whole problem just involved planting Grandma in the World Council. If her tongue didn't eviscerate enough people, her cooking would finish the job.
Virgil hung around keeping an eye on his brothers. Alan drifted off to bed early. Well, the kid was exhausted and worried, so Virgil nudged him in the right direction. That earned him a glare, but Virgil knew the teenager needed it. He would check on him later.
Gordon was a furious ball of energy the entire night, eyes flicking to various members of the family. He vanished at one point and Virgil found him in the indoor pool. No doubt he would be there for a while.
John did his usual disappearing act. Of all his brothers, John was the most worrisome in this situation. Gordon and Scott would react physically. John...John had other more destructive methods that could be enacted from his bedroom and a temperament that matched their grandmother's. Virgil fully intended to check up on him as soon as possible.
However, first he had to speak to Scott.
Excusing himself with all due decorum and a pointed look from Grandma, Virgil went looking for his eldest brother.
Scott had retired to his rooms in the old manor, a fact that was alarming in itself as the man was more one to hover in such a worrisome situation, concerned about his brothers. He had stuck around to see Alan off but then done his own vanishing spell while Virgil was hunting down Gordon.
Virgil ended up outside his door hand poised to knock. There were so many questions, concerns and worries.
And blame.
He couldn't help but wonder if he had not stepped up to help Gordon in the bar, if he had dragged his brother away...
If they had simply not stopped for a break and just gone home to their safe little island in the Pacific.
But something in him reared up. They had a right to enjoy a little of the happiness they fought so hard for other people. It had been an innocent meal; Gordon had been relaxing and smiling. It had been a good time.
It shouldn't have ended the way it did, but they were in the right. They did the right thing.
His knuckles rapped on hardwood.
"Virgil, I'm fine."
His brother didn't even need to open the door apparently.
"Can I come in?"
There was silence for a moment and Virgil was faced with the possibility Scott would refuse him. But then the sound of footsteps and the door was thrown open.
Virgil blinked. His brother was half dressed, his blue shirt hanging open to a bare chest. His jeans had obviously been shoved on quickly. His hair was sticking up in all directions...like he had been running his hands through it.
"You okay?" Virgil frowned at him.
Scott scoffed and grabbed at his duffle beside the door and shoved it onto a chair. "I've already answered that question. Next?" He stood with his weight on one leg more than the other hands on his hips, all very much as if he was too busy for this crap.
Too bad.
Virgil closed the door quietly and turned to face his brother. "Talk to me, Scott."
"What do you want me to say? That everything will be fine? Not to worry?"
"Of course not, I-"
"Good, because it isn't." His brother turned back to the duffle bag and began rifling through it.
A spare pair of jeans were thrown to the floor
"Scott-"
"What?! What do you want?!" Hands paused and Scott glared at him. But it was an unsteady glare, his eyes glistening.
Shit.
Virgil took a step forward and that glare intensified for a moment before returning to the hunt through the duffle bag.
A spare shirt hit the carpet.
Virgil took advantage and closed the gap between himself and his brother, daring to drop a hand gently on his arm.
The arm flinched, but the hands kept rifling.
Three pairs of underwear, all plane prints in three different colours, joined the jeans and shirt on the floor.
Voice soft. "What are you looking for?"
"My shampoo."
Virgil reached over, unzipped a side pocket of the duffle and pulled out the requested item. He held it out to his brother without a word.
A hand claimed it with an equal lack of voice, but with gratitude, nonetheless.
His brother's body stilled from its aggravated motion and sagged a little.
Virgil moved his hand to Scott's shoulder. Ever so soft. "Talk to me."
Blue eyes darted to him and back down to the duffle bag. Lips thinned and Virgil could almost see the fight going on inside his brother's head.
He waited.
And waited.
Little more than a whisper. "Why are they doing this?"
Virgil blinked.
"I've done everything I can. Everything I could think of. Everything I thought Dad would do. But it is not enough. The Hood, the Mechanic, hell, even the GDF...want to take it all. Dad's dream and...Mom's memory."
Virgil's frown was headache inducing.
Blue eyes turned to look at him. "I can't let them, Virgil. They can't have it."
"We're not facing that yet, Scott." He squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Not yet."
Scott straightened, lips thinning. "Unfortunately, optimism isn't tactically sound."
Virgil let his hand drop and swallowed. "What are you thinking?"
An exasperated sound and Scott turned away, striding towards the huge bed in the middle of the room. "What are we going to do? Isn't that the real question? What miracle do I have up my sleeve?"
"Scott-"
"No, it's fine. It's my job to have the answers. My job to make the decisions." A sigh. "Virg, we will do what we always do."
Unhesitant. "Save people."
"Yeah." Scott's hand came to rest on the bed post. "Those that we can...even if it is each other."
It was warm in the room, but Virgil shivered at his brother's words.
-o-o-o-