Virgil buried himself in work.
He overhauled Two's grappling system, re-installed the associated engines, cables and did a service check on the magnets and grabs.
He went through every circuit, vent and fuel line in her VTOL system.
He scanned her hull until each of the molecules became an old friend. She had strained herself, yes, but she had survived.
Survived.
Thoughts he didn't want to think intruded again.
So, he started a thruster overhaul.
It was a sign that it was the sixteen-hour mark before Scott dragged him out of the hangars. His brother was usually much earlier than that.
But Scott looked as wrecked as Virgil felt and the circumstances were anything but usual.
He was sent to bed.
He didn't sleep.
Next morning, he was up and down there again.
As the days passed, the condition of his 'bird became inversely proportional to his own.
Virgil Tracy had a lot of experience with all-nighters. His job called for it. But by the fifth day of no sleep, little food and all the work he could find he reached his limit.
He was under his 'bird, poking at her foot when the wrench fell. It was loud as it clattered on the concrete. His hand closed around empty air as if astonished the tool wasn't still in his palm.
Staring down at it, the dull shine of its steel in the light shaft from above caught his eyes and held them there.
"Virg?"
Turning, he found Gordon sitting on the port-side landing strut.
His brother was looking up at him. "What the hell are you doing?"
A blink. "Servicing her landing gear."
"Obviously, but you know that is not what I am referring to."
Gordon's hair had such a soft shine in this light.
"Huh?"
Gordon sighed. "C'mere, bro. Sit down." He patted the green cahelium beside him.
Virgil took a step forward, but then remembered why he was servicing landing gear and stopped. "No, I've got to get this done. We might be called out."
"We're not getting called out, Virg, and you know it. It has been five days. We are shut down. No one is asking for our help."
Virgil stared at the fallen wrench again.
Another sigh and Gordon pushed himself to his feet. Closing the distance between them, he put both of his hands on Virgil's biceps, fingers wrapping around the bunched and filthy flannel of his rolled up sleeves. Gordon tried to catch his eyes, but Virgil stared stubbornly at the wrench, not willing to face his little brother.
"What the hell are you doing, Virg? Scott is beside himself with worry, Alan has been asking after you every half hour and Johnny's on the verge of coming down himself to drag you out of here." He glanced up at the massive green presence above them. "Two has never been healthier. She doesn't need you right now. But we do."
That distracted him from the wrench and he found himself caught by eyes so much like his own they hurt. "Gords..."
His little brother tilted his head to one side and smiled a crooked smile. "You know what happens when the rest of us are left to our own devices, don't you?" And suddenly there was passion in Gordon's eyes. "We need you, Virg. You're our strength. In so many ways. If you won't listen to your own body, if you won't listen to Scott, please listen to this. Without you, there is no International Rescue." The hands on his arms tightened almost to bruising strength. "Please stop this."
His hands twitched, needing to do something. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to...
"Virgil!"
He startled and realised his eyes had dropped to the floor again. So tired.
"Look at me." He forced his eyes upward and was caught by Gordon's frown. "It's me or Grandma. Scott had to hold her back or she would be down here with your ear between her fingers dragging you into the elevator." He smirked. "Of course, if you like, I can provide a similar service." He snapped two fingers together and pantomimed grabbing Virgil's ear.
Virgil screwed up his face.
Gordon let the hand drop. "C'mon, Virg. We need you. Please?"
-o-o-o-
There was no way he could ignore his little brother's request. Guilt wormed its way into his heart as Gordon led him from the hangars, one hand still holding tight to filthy flannel.
The worm turned into a serpent the moment he was dragged into the comms room.
Scott sat at their father's desk, a holographic news channel condemning him from above. His usually perfect hair was mussed by the fingers gripping it.
A politician was yelling at a reporter. "Sixty-three people! How many more will we find if we dig deeper? How many more is the Tracy Empire hiding? How many more deaths could have been avoided?"
The report cut to the presenter. "While the GDF remains quiet on the topic, several world councillors have made their opinion clear, demanding an investigation into International Rescue's conduct before more lives are lost."
The program switched to an advert before Gordon scampered over and killed the connection.
Scott's head shot up and Virgil was horrified. His brother appeared years older than he should, his face pale, eyes red...Virgil was moving before he could finish a thought.
"Scott..." He crouched down beside the chair and pulled it around to face him.
Blue eyes blinked and Scott frowned. "Virg, you look like shit."
"Look who's talking."
"You okay?" And there was the big brother concern.
No.
But... "I feel I should be asking you that question."
Scott's frown deepened and he looked away. "The board is on my back to shut down permanently. The media is ripping us to shreds. There are lawsuits. Jack is running himself ragged putting out fires. Virg..." Those eyes caught his again. "I think this might be it. I thought...I thought if we just kept going..."
Gordon cut him off, voice firm. "We will keep going."
Scott glanced at him before reaching over and poking the holoprojector controls. A man in a spotless GDF uniform glared at the camera. "Colonel Valerie Casey has been arrested and charged with colluding with outside forces, concealing information and impeding an investigation."
Virgil choked.
-o-o-o-