Virgil had never felt so confined and uncomfortable in his uniform. His baldric was heavy and his collar itched. He shoved fingers between the material and his skin and scratched it raw.
"Stop that, honey." A small hand reached up and pulled his hand away. He sighed and let his shoulders drop as Grandma wrapped her fingers around his.
They were standing in the foyer of Tracy Tower in Auckland. Scott had been determined that if the press wanted the story, they had to come to them. That and setting it up in public, in front of the massive feat of architecture and engineering most certainly helped to remind people of the power and money behind the Tracy brothers.
Virgil just hoped that they would also remember the good his family did on a daily basis. Not just through International Rescue, but via Tracy Industries itself - its technology, its philanthropy, its genuinely helpful contribution to the world.
They weren't just another billionaire family.
They cared.
Grandma was straightening his collar, her actions a sign of her unease more so than her words. "We will get through this, Virgil."
He wrapped his hands around hers and stilled their nervous movements, attempting to catch her eyes. "Yes, Grandma, we will."
She smiled up at him. "Yes, we will." A glance behind him and she frowned. "Even if Alan eats the entire buffet."
Virgil turned around to find Alan buzzing over the food laid out on the reception desk, his chair hovering higher up so he could see everything. The red of his awkwardly worn baldric glowed in the shafts of natural light filtering down from the windows far above them. Virgil subconsciously acknowledged the structural design work that managed to direct sunlight all the way down here in the centre of a major city.
His littlest brother tended to eat when nervous.
Gordon was pacing back and forth a little further away, his yellow even brighter than Alan's red. His fish brother hadn't stopped glaring the entire flight out.
John had the privilege of being excused from this exercise. The man, despite having slept, as briefly as possible, was still working. Virgil was worried.
As for Scott...
His big brother was standing tall, not far away, not willing to let Virgil out of his sight. At this moment, he was deep in conversation with a harried Jack.
The lawyer had seen better days. The man's comb-over had come astray and he had bags under his eyes to rival those under Scott's.
Virgil's face itched.
Scott's eyes darted in his direction as if they were psychically linked, his eyes catching Virgil's hand as it reached to scratch his cheek.
Grandma's grabbed his fingers again and Virgil sighed.
How did women wear makeup all day? It was so...itchy.
It was Jack's recommendation. The remains of the bruise on Virgil's cheek had to be gone. The press did not need a reminder of what had started all this.
Jack had the fun of being snarled at by Gordon for that comment.
The lawyer was unfazed, his expression tolerant as he took the aquanaut on.
A word from Virgil had halted his fish brother's tirade of innocence. Jack wasn't the one responsible.
But ultimately, here they were. Virgil decked out in his uniform and a little face putty to hide the green of a fading bruise.
So damned itchy.
Veronica Myers, your typical power-suited, perfectly polished PR representative hurried out from the elevator and narrowed in on Scott. The woman was good at what she did. It was what she did that baffled Virgil and his brothers. In the spotlight for a good chunk of their lives, they knew how important appearances were, but Veronica added a whole new dimension to the concept.
"They are ready for you, Mr Tracy."
'Mr Tracy' was only one of them in this situation.
Cold blue eyes turned to Virgil. It had been decided that only Scott and the second eldest would take the stand.
Gordon was very loud and pointed about his opinion of the situation, but Scott was louder and in command.
The aquanaut was still steaming.
It appeared to be a permanent state of mind for his fish brother lately.
Virgil squeezed his grandmother's hand and let go. He strode over to his brother, their lawyer and PR rep.
Veronica straightened his collar and Virgil held back a sigh.
"Do you remember the script?" Her voice was crisp, her eyes searching.
"Yeah, as best I can." Veronica hadn't liked the fact Virgil was accompanying Scott in this little venture. The engineer had much less experience speaking to the press than his bigger brother. Virgil was much more a behind the scenes type and usually kept his appearances attached to worthy causes when he got the chance.
There was a big difference between opening a new children's hospital ward versus a press conference.
"Scott will do most of the talking." He had the skill set. Virgil was far too honest for his own good.
Veronica's eyes were almost violet in this lighting. Perfect lips pursed just a little in worry.
She was honestly the oddest mother hen type he had ever encountered. She cared about their business and their family was the business.
Her fingernails were an iridescent purple today, long and perfectly manicured.
A tug at his baldric and she caught his eyes. "Looking good, Virgil." She smiled. "You've got this."
Despite himself, Virgil snorted. "Thanks, V."
Her smile widened before turning to Scott. "You ready?"
Scott's lips thinned as his shoulders set. As determined as before any rescue. "Let's do this."
-o-o-o-
It wasn't until he stepped out onto the stage that Virgil realised he was almost beside himself with nerves. So much preparation, so much thinking about his brothers, that he failed to acknowledge his own thoughts on the matter.
There was a sea of people.
Holocams hovered, their bright lights eye piercing. Cameras flashed. The moment he and his brother emerged, a mass of sound welled up from the crowd. Scott's name, his name, accusations disguised as questions.
It was overwhelming.
Scott took it all in stride, back straight, expression challenging anyone who encountered it.
A hand reached back and touched Virgil's arm and it was enough to snap him into responder mode, the wall of professionalism coming down to protect himself. He straightened his own posture. He was a member of International Rescue.
The flashes were as blinding as any electrical storm he had encountered.
Veronica took mic control as the two brothers took their places at the podium. Sitting down, but still above the general crowd, Virgil could see where the police had blocked off the street to contain the crowd.
At the centre of the gathering were all the professional journalists. Expensive equipment, well dressed, sharp and likely the most dangerous sharks in the sea. But on the edges of the cordoned off area the crowd became the everyday joe. Placards on one side screamed messages like 'Tracy fraud' and 'They let my son die'.
The words stabbed at him, sharp and cold. This was his responsibility. This is what he had done.
His reaction must have been obvious because, combined with a sudden mad flashing in his direction, even more questions were screamed at him.
"Why did you do it?!" One above all others yelled across the plaza.
Virgil, always able to locate the source of a sound, found the woman off to the left. She had tears streaming down her face. She held a placard with a young man's photograph stuck to it. Underneath was written 'One of Sixty-three'. "He was my only son!"
There was another flurry of camera noise and light as Virgil stood up. His eyes only for her.
Scott was saying something, pulling at his harness, but Virgil was stronger.
The woman stared at him, tears running down her face.
Words fell from his lips.
"I'm sorry."
The crowd erupted.
"Virgil, sit down." It was hissed at him as the roar overtook everything.
Everyone was shouting.
Veronica was calling for order, but no one was listening.
That one woman kept staring at him. He couldn't help but feel responsible for her tears.
"Do you admit responsibility for the sixty-three deaths in New York?"
"That was an apology!"
"Why did you let it happen?"
It was an avalanche threatening to sweep him away.
Then someone got a hold of a megaphone. "You people are disgusting!"
It was like an extra knife, twisting in his gut. Virgil looked down at the wooden table in front of him. After images danced in his eyesight.
But the megaphone continued. "How can you treat these men this way? How many of you have had loved ones saved by International Rescue? I have! We owe these men everything, you ungrateful slimes!"
Virgil's head shot up. What?
On the other side of the crowd, almost opposite the woman who had accused him, were a group of people all dressed in green. Beside them were other groups of colours – yellow, blue, gold and red. Above this rainbow were more placards, but their message was considerably different.
'Virgil Tracy saved my boy'.
'I've been saved and so have you.'
'Rescued by International Rescue.'
'Leave IR alone.'
The one that screamed out in blue 'Scott Tracy, will you marry me?' held a different message altogether, but the spirit was there.
The woman holding the microphone was dark-haired and unfamiliar.
The hub bub had died down just a little and Virgil found the ability to breathe again.
The woman's eyes caught his and the determination and the…trust in them was a physical thing that up and slapped him.
She didn't let him go.
He was International Rescue.
He saved people.
Again, the crowd reacted to him. Much more must be showing on his face than he was aware, because a tension settled over the people below. Eyes darted between the woman in green and Virgil's stare. New questions popped up, but they were quieter and finally, Veronica was able to take control of the proceedings.
"Thank you for your consideration." Her pursed lips added sarcasm and not a little admonishment to her words. "Scott and Virgil Tracy are here to answer a few questions, but before we start, Mr Tracy has a statement."
She stepped back from the lectern and Scott stood up, his fingers brushing gently over Virgil's shoulder.
Scott exuded command. His brother was putting every bit of himself into projecting confidence and power.
And he was succeeding.
"Several accusations have been made against International Rescue in recent days." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Regarding Hurricane Lucy…myself and my brothers are grieved at the loss of life caused by the storm, and the damage to the environment incurred by the oil spill." Another pause, eyes raking the crowd. "Despite repeated attempts to launch, we were restrained by the Global Defence Force from saving those in danger.
"We wanted to, but we were forced to sit and watch when we could have prevented so much.
"And for that reason, we share your grief."
Blue eyes raked the silent crowd. "Regarding the incident in New York…" A whimper to their left and Virgil's eyes were once again forced to land on the woman who had lost her son.
The tears were gone and he only found hatred in her eyes.
He drew in a breath.
Cameras flashed yet again.
"Virgil! We trust you!" It was loud. It was sudden. But it whipped his eyes away from accusation to the other side of the crowd once again where that colourful group of people projected support.
His heart twisted.
He felt Scott's eyes on him, before his brother retook control of the crowd. "Regarding the incident in New York. We are investigating the cause of the accident, but I can assure you that it was not pilot error."
He held the crowd with his eyes and Virgil found even more admiration for his brother. Scott knew exactly what he was doing and he was doing it well.
His brother took a step back. "Thank you for coming."
Several reporters twitched at that, arms shooting up with a sudden fear they were about to lose their opportunity to speak with the Tracys.
Intelligent and powerful, Scott looked down on them and held them with his eyes just that moment longer before breaking the spell and returning to his seat beside Virgil.
Virgil stared at him.
Okay, wow.
His brother turned to look at him and blue sparkled as one corner of his lips curled up just a little.
Oh, confident and suave Scooter who was fully aware of his skill. It distracted Virgil from dark thoughts and he suddenly realised that he was as subject to his brother's spell as the rest of the crowd.
Smart ass.
Veronica took the stand again. "We have time for a few relevant questions."
Hands that had dropped under that blue-eyed bewitchment shot up again. Veronica turned to Scott, non-verbally handing him the floor.
And Virgil realised that Scott had returned to his seat for only one reason.
To support his younger brother through this.
Virgil let his shoulders drop.
Control of the crowd returned to Scott.
The commander eyed the cluster of journalists, raised a hand and pointed to one on the right. "Ned?"
Virgil blinked. It was indeed Ned Cook. Scott and the reporter had a long term, ongoing antagonism. Cook had chased International Rescue across the globe, attending as many rescues as he could. Having once encountered a frustrated Scott in person, and then been saved by Virgil during a building collapse not long after, he was very pro-IR on every front.
Scott still had words with him time to time. The man always had to push the boundaries and Virgil knew his brother found him irritating.
Virgil just worried the man was going to get himself killed.
But he was a fair reporter and would relay the facts.
Dark hair and eyes bounced between the two Tracys. "So, what you are saying is that International Rescue was not responsible for either incident?"
Scott tilted his head. "Mr Cook, what I am saying is that we are not responsible for being unable to assist during Hurricane Lucy. That blame lies entirely with GDF Command. We have recordings of their direction during the crisis and the extent we tried to help. We were vetoed on all fronts."
"Why didn't you fly anyway?"
"And give the GDF an excuse to ground us permanently? Risk all the future lives we could save?" Scott sighed. "We can only help those who want to be helped."
That set the crowd rumbling. There were shouts of 'we wanted help' and 'please help us'.
Virgil found his eyes drawn again to the left.
The woman was still staring at him with accusation in every line.
He shied away.
"What about the New York disaster?" Cook wasn't letting them off the hook.
Scott remained calm. "As I said, we are still investigating."
Virgil was aware of all the eyes on him.
Scott pointed at another reporter.
The man straightened. "Eddie Kerr, sir. I'd like to address Mr Virgil Tracy."
Scott glanced at him sideways, but Virgil nodded.
All the attention turned to him.
"Virgil, what were your thoughts when that slab of concrete dropped on those sixty-three people?"
Virgil's throat tightened and he had to clear his throat, but he found his voice. "Sixty-four, my youngest brother was also under that concrete when it fell."
"But he survived. The other sixty-three did not."
"I tried, Mr Kerr. God, I tried. It shouldn't have happened." A hand landed on his arm and cameras flashed at him again.
God, he was the vulnerability.
"You did your best, Virgil" The megaphone again. "We know you-" She was cut off.
His eyes found the green woman wrestling with a police officer. He appeared to be attempting to take away the megaphone.
Virgil stood up. "No, leave her alone!"
"Virgil!" Scott hissed at him again.
He turned to his brother. "She has the right to speak, Scott. Just as much as anyone else here." Turning back to the crowd. "Leave her be!"
"You don't control the police, Mr Tracy." It was sneered from somewhere down at the front.
Scott rose beside him, tension in every line as a woman in a suit stepped out of the crowd. She had an intensity in her step that spoke of confidence and a right to be where she was.
On the other side of the plaza, the green woman was joined by one dressed in red and a man in blue. More police ran to the scene as the woman struggled. The crowd murmured uneasily.
"Mr Tracy!" The woman in the suit was being held back by IR Security. Gerald, in fact, Scott's personal attendant. "I'm from the Office of the Commissioner of Justice." Her tones were sharp and her identification was literally shoved in Gerald's face. The officer frowned as he focussed on the document. Eyes darted up to Scott and confirmed her identity.
Cameras were flashing again, almost blinding Virgil as his brother nodded. Gerald let the woman through, hovering behind her, hand on his stunner.
She sauntered up to the podium, eyes cold and accusing. She slapped a clear flimsy down in front of Virgil as Scott shifted closer, all towering protectiveness.
The woman ignored him. Attention solely on Virgil, "You're summoned, Mr Virgil Tracy, to answer for your actions." Her finger tapped the electronic slip and the flimsy flashed acceptance.
Virgil stared at her, but she ignored him, and turned to Scott. "You don't control everything, commander. You will answer for your actions."
She spun on her heel and strode off into the crowd.
Virgil found his mouth open and shut it.
The light and noise of the crowd rose up and consumed him.
-o-o-o-