"What the hell were you thinking?" It was a hissed whisper and something beneath his hands moved.

"Shhhhh! You'll wake him up and then we'll both be dead." That was Alan.

Virgil frowned.

"You know I prefer celery."

"Well, that's all they had."

Gordon grumbled, something about pumpkin. "Thanks, bro."

There was silence for a moment and Virgil drifted again, too comfortable to care.

'They were both honourable men. The blond one, Gordon? He stepped in when this guy just got in my face. I was just sitting down for a drink between classes and that guy wandered over and started hitting on me. I just wanted a quiet moment.' A cleared throat. 'If Gordon hadn't been there, I don't know what I would have done. But then they were all fighting and I got scared, you know? If I had known it would start everything it did, I would have come to you sooner. But I didn't and then it was worldwide news and...I'm sorry...I was scared, okay?'

Virgil frowned. He was warm and his brain foggy. He just wanted to sleep.

'The facts that have recently come to light regarding the world government's conduct have had dire consequences for certain leaders and, in particular, the leadership of the GDF. One thousand and seventy-nine people were aboard the failing launch platform and no GDF assistance was sent. If it wasn't for the persistence of International Rescue, it is highly likely that the craft would have gone down with all aboard.' And then Gordon was yelling at the top of his lungs. 'RETURN TO YOUR POD SO WE CAN SAVE YOUR FUCKING LIFE!'

That threw Virgil out of whatever slumber he was entangled in. "Gordon!"

He found himself on his belly in a bed. Foreign smells identified the sheets as belonging to a hospital. Hospital?

A hand landed on his shoulder. Soft words. "Hey, hey, Virgil. Shhh, you'll wake him up."

Scott? Huh? He rolled over, tangling in a blanket. He was fully dressed apart from his boots. What the-?

"You fell asleep in a chair." His brother, dressed in a suit, waved a hand at the seat he was sitting in. "John and I moved you to a bed so you would be more comfortable."

Virgil blinked vaguely, but he only had eyes for the occupant in the other bed. Gordon was sleeping peacefully despite the news hologram hovering above his legs. Various scenes from the launch platform flickered on and off, the voiceover loud enough to be heard, but not to intrude. He watched film of his own 'bird darting about. Scott and Gordon tackling the crowd.

Words fell from his mouth. "What's going on?"

Scott had a shit eating grin on his face. "John did some filming."

"He did what?"

"Highjacked a few of those journalists' holocams and gave them the footage of the century."

Virgil blinked at shots of himself catching Gordon as he fell. Every angle was available. The cameras panning as he checked his brother's vitals, called his 'bird closer and lowered a basket stretcher.

He swallowed at how much the expression on his face gave away when Gordon didn't respond.

Scott hovered, caught between commander and brother.

When Virgil secured Gordon and began to draw himself and his brother into Two, one of the remaining crowd yelled out yet another demand to be taken aboard the Thunderbird.

The camera zoomed in on Scott's face. His voice was ice cold.

"Return to your pod. This platform will be evacuated in ten minutes whether you are secure or not. This is your last warning." As Thunderbird Two peeled away to a safe distance, Thunderbird One swooped in to collect her pilot and International Rescue evacuated the last of their operatives from the failing craft.

Thunderbird One's loud speakers warned that the pods would be evacuating in ten minutes, that everyone would be safe if they were in their pod.

He didn't say that IR wouldn't collect stragglers, but his tone was one of a man on his last nerve.

The crowd ran back towards the stadium.

Virgil's memories of the incident were different. He had Gordon in the cockpit, scanners screaming at him about internal bleeding. The realisation that he would have to fly his brother to the nearest hospital or risk losing him.

The war in his head between the thousand odd people below and the one brother under his hands.

And John's word.

"Go, Virgil."

"John-"

"Go. I've got this."

An order from Scott and he was in his pilot's seat accelerating away from the danger zone, his 'bird clawing at the sky to gain speed.

He ignored the squawks from the idiot still strapped into his seat at the back.

The fact he had to swoop around an airliner as he set course for London, didn't register at the time.

Now he saw what had happened after he left.

"John sent out a call for help and they answered." Scott's eyes were shining with pride.

All sorts of civilian aircraft emerged from the surrounding cloud layer. Helicopters, freight carriers, airliners, emergency services, all from the nearest countries.

So, ten minutes later when the stadium disassembled, each of the pods peeling away under its own power, there were enough craft in the sky to provide support.

Thunderbird One corralled, grappled and made sure all were safe, darting back and forth across the herd like an authoritive sheep dog.

The holocams cut to the herd arriving at the nearest airport, flashing emergency lights decorating the airstrip as the pods were directed to land, one by one, Thunderbird One and several other appropriately equipped craft catching and lowering those that struggled.

"He caught all of it on film." There was that pride again as the newscast cut to a presenter hailing the wonders of International Rescue.

Virgil blinked.

His memory consisted of that mad dash to London, Gordon's vitals and seeing him disappear behind emergency room doors.

Delivering the pilots from the crashed planes to medical care.

Physically restraining himself from punching the lights out of the man Gordon had injured himself saving. Giving him to the police, explaining what the man had done and that International Rescue would like to press charges.

The frown on the constable's face had been odd. Virgil had assumed it had to do with the recent press regarding IR.

Perhaps not.

In any case, the annoying whiner continued his whining as he was taken away and Virgil was happy to see the last of him.

At least until Jack lined him up on a courtroom stand and shredded his life.

Gordon had surgery to stitch up the bleeding in his belly. A massive contusion still marked where he had collided with the airstrip superstructure during his leap to save that asshole.

His arm was strapped up after his shoulder had been relocated to its correct position and he was decorated in plasters.

The last thing Virgil remembered was sitting beside his little brother, holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up.

A blink. "Alan was here."

Scott sighed. "Yeah. Still is. Grandma dragged him out so you and Gordon could get some rest."

"And you managed to get to stay?"

His brother smirked, those eyes glittering again. "Been waiting for you to wake up. Got some news."

Virgil frowned. "News?" He pushed himself upright, tired muscles complaining all the way. The last few weeks had taken a physical toll as well as a mental one. Letting his socked feet fall off the side of the bed, he sat up fully and stretched his shoulders and arms. "You're a Cheshire cat, Scott. Spill before I find other means."

That earned him an arched eyebrow. "Lady Penelope and Kayo came through. They found the proof we were not responsible for the incident in New York."

Virgil's eyes widened. "What? How?"

A hand landed gently on his knee. "It wasn't your fault, Virgil. Lady P and Kayo found the cause and the persons involved."

Virgil grabbed his brother's hand. "But how?!" It came out louder than he intended and Gordon stirred in his sleep.

Scott's hand gripped his. "The extra weight was cloaked. Penelope forced the authorities to give her access and she found the devices. Kayo was able to follow the trail of manufacture and found the thugs responsible. Jack jumped on it and all charges against you have been dropped."

He stared at his brother. "Charges had been laid?!"

"But they are dismissed. You don't need to worry about it." The frown on Scott's face told Virgil that Scott regretted even mentioning that fact. He had obviously hidden it.

"Did we break the law?"

"No!"

Had he been evading the law without even realising it? "Scott."

Scott's frowned increased. "No, Virgil. We're not going there. You are not responsible. The charges have been cleared. End of story." His brother's glare brought that line of thought to an abrupt end. Whether it was because of the commander or the big brother, Virgil's reflex was to obey.

Damnit.

"Is Virg being an idiot again?" The words were slurred and quiet, but so Gordon, Virgil was off the bed and beside his brother without thought.

"Gords?"

Tired brown eyes focussed lazily on him. "Hey, Virgil." A slight frown. "You're loud."

He was on the wrong side of the bed to grab Gordon's uninjured hand, so he had to satisfy his need for contact by running a finger through the hair on his little brother's forehead. Gordon blinked and comically attempted to look up at Virgil's hand.

Virgil couldn't help but smile. "Sorry. How are you feeling?"

Those eyelids closed slowly and reopened blearily. "Tired." A frown. "Where's Alan?"

Scott stood up behind Virgil and those brown eyes latched onto their eldest brother over Virgil's shoulder. "With Grandma. You need rest, Gordon."

Gordon's lips curved upwards. "Lookin' spiffy, Scooter."

Scott snorted, looking down at his suit. "Just playing the part."

Gordon's eyes drifted closed again. "You look good." He frowned and his lips twisted as he attempted to shift on the bed. "Ow."

"Stay still." Virgil's palm cupped the side of his brother's head.

His eyes opened and found Virgil again, but Gordon didn't say anything. His head did lean into Virgil's hand and eventually those eyes drifted closed again. His breath evened out in sleep.

Virgil stared at his fishy brother a little longer.

Scott's hand landed on Virgil's shoulder. Voice quiet. "Come on, let's get you something to eat."

Illogically, Virgil found himself not wanting to leave Gordon, but he cursed himself at being ridiculous and removed his hand, letting his brother's head loll gently onto the pillow.

Scott's fingers gripped his shoulder and he led him from the room.

-o-o-o-

Scott snorted when Virgil froze just outside the hospital front doors.

He had left Thunderbird Two in the hospital parking lot.

How he had had the mind to change into civilian clothes yet forgotten that he had a traffic hazard parked outside was a question he could not answer.

"Hey, at least you haven't got a parking ticket."

IR security had obviously been deployed. His 'bird had been roped off and she was high up on her struts, well out of reach.

"She's had her uses. John has found sanctuary. I think he may have even slept in your bed."

Virgil blinked as his eyes passed over the crowd that was literally camped behind the ropes in the parking lot. Someone caught sight of them and started screaming. Within seconds several hundred people had emerged from tents and were yelling 'Tracy, Tracy, Tracy!'

"What the-?"

"Popular opinion is as fickle as always."

"Who did we save? The Queen?"

"Not quite. Though there was a prime minister, thirteen world councillors, a soap star and at least two musicians." Scott frowned. "Foster? Two of them."

Virgil stared up his brother. "Not Ben and Nick Foster?"

"Yeah, maybe?"

"We saved Ben and Nick Foster? Did you get their autographs?"

"What? No? Should I?"

"Are you kidding me?!" Did his brother live under a rock? "Ben and Nick Foster, Scott!"

"Ooookaaay." His brother held up a hand. "Calm down. They did say that they were willing to support us in any way. I'll let Jack know you're interested."

Virgil spent the next several moments considering what the hell he would do if the opportunity to meet the Fosters came up. Could he handle it? Maybe. It would almost be like meeting Kip Harris. That led to a train of thought of what might happen if they ever encountered the fire specialist.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Oh, hospital, Thunderbird Two, screaming fans. He straightened himself, ignoring the flush that crept up to his cheeks. "I'm fine."

Scott frowned at him a little but then led him across the lawn towards his 'bird, their fans screaming the entire way. Their questions were so opposite to those of the last couple of weeks, it felt wrong.

"They really don't hate us anymore?"

"You know it isn't that easy, Virg. There are plenty who still hate us, or want our stuff, or the power. I don't think that will ever go away. But popular opinion, the opinion that gauges what is acceptable? Yeah, it seems we have it again."

"Because of John?"

Scott stopped and turned, catching Virgil's eyes. "Partly, but I think mostly because the truth finally got to those who matter. The people with the real power."

"Who?"

"The people." His brother turned towards the screaming crowd for just a second and the calls for 'Tracy' switched calls for 'Scott'. "The moms, the dads, the postman, the small business owner, the woman who drives the school bus…the people we used to be."

"We're still those kinds of people."

Scott shook his head. "Perhaps inside, but not to the rest of the world." A half smile. "We're the Tracy brothers. We're International Rescue. Billionaires who live on a secret island." A sigh. "If all this has proven anything, it's that."

"It shouldn't matter. We do the right thing."

"It shouldn't, but it does." A shrug and his big brother turned towards Two and, with the return of his hand on Virgil's shoulder, led him to his 'bird.

The hatch lowered without instruction and they left the screaming to the green soundproofing of cahelium.

"Hey, Virgil." John was sitting in Gordon's co-pilot seat, his tablet in his lap and a number of optical cables hooked into the dash.

"What are you doing to my Thunderbird?"

"Not much. Needed her antenna mostly and a little extra processing power." A twist of his lips. "Eos, say hello."

Virgil's eyes widened. "Eos?"

"Yes, Virgil?"

"Where exactly are you?"

"That is an existential question. I am in many places."

"Including in Thunderbird Two?"

"Of course." A giggle. "It's comfy. John says it is like an old couch."

"Eos!"

"Well, you did."

Virgil glared at his space brother.

John sighed, let his shoulders drop and, pushing the co-pilot's seat back, stood up and faced the music. "Virgil, yes, your 'bird is comfortable. No, it is not old. Please can I not be berated for a slip of the tongue."

Scott snorted so hard, he coughed.

Virgil glared up at John a moment longer before grabbing him into a massive hug. He squeezed the breath out of his brother, his face mashed up against a space-suited shoulder.

A strangled squawk from John and Scott outright laughed. "You've done it now, Johnny."

"I'm sorry, Virg."

His name was little more than a gasp from his brother. Virgil held on a moment longer before relenting and letting go. He blinked rapidly as his vision blurred. "Thank you, John." It was his turn for a hoarse voice. "I don't know how to-"

"Hey, hey, Virgil. Don't strangle the messenger. I only passed on the truth."

Virgil swallowed and shifted his feet. "You saved me."

Turquoise widened and flickered to stare at Scott before darting back to Virgil. "You would have done the same."

"But it was you who did it." A shaky breath. "Thank you, John."

John looked down a moment, as if embarrassed, before catching Virgil's eyes again. "Anytime." A small smile. "Though I can't take credit for Gordon's contribution." John lent over touched his tablet. "He's been bleeped all over the world. Grandma is mortified."

"Oh, god."

Scott grinned. "Oh, yes, our young aquanaut is in for it when he gets home. Homemade chicken soup and all. Make sure we bring in some extra survival supplies on the way back to the Island."

Or was that grin a grimace? It was hard to tell.

"Gordon was bleeding to death."

All the humour left the cockpit.

"He's going to be fine, Virgil. You know that." Immediate older brother worry.

A sigh. "I know, Scott. It's just that all that swearing…Grandma can forgive him due to circumstances. He wasn't thinking straight."

John's voice was clear and firm. "He said what needed to be said. And to be honest, he was the only one who could say it." He tilted his head to one side. "It gave Sir Hugh Creighton-Ward the ammunition he needed to launch a counter offensive."

"A what?"

"The World Security Council is in an uproar. I doubt Wainwright's career is going to survive. Did you notice the complete absence of any rescue craft at the platform?"

Virgil frowned. "Wasn't the crashed plane a World Rescue craft?"

"Hell, no. That was the fake rescue. It was supposed to land under difficulty, but the pilot mangled the 'distressed' landing and crashed it instead. When the whole thing went sour, Wainwright tried to halt our intervention, so she could send in the new heroes and make a real show of it. But then we refused to leave, so she settled for inciting the mob we faced. Those people who refused to return to their pods? Some were plants ordered by Wainwright. A good percentage of that thousand were GDF personnel in plain clothes. She felt that uniforms wouldn't be as heartfelt as civilian wear on film."

A stunned stare. "You have proof?"

John looked out the forward windows. "An unforeseen communications error may have inadvertently refracted several of the conversations involved directly into the NTBS satellite."

Virgil's stare flattened. "You or Eos?"

"A communications error."

"You then."

"I don't understand what you mean, Virgil."

The engineer rolled his eyes. "Are you safe? You can't be traced?"

The look John threw at him set nothing more than 'Are you kidding me? Space ace communications astronaut genius versus those dweebs?' Not that his brother would actually say those words…but then his specialisation was communications and he was quite capable of expressing himself non-verbally.

Those copper eyebrows could be lethal after all.

God, he had missed him.

Virgil resisted the urge to hug him again.

John must have picked up on it because he took a step back.

Scott took a step forward. "Sir Hugh has called for Wainwright to step down and face criminal charges. Several of her cronies have been named. General Strond is no longer the head of the GDF. Aunt Val has been reinstated."

Virgil found himself staring again. "It's been barely twenty-four hours!"

Scott shrugged. "Penny says her father likes to strike when the iron is hot."

"You've spoken to Penny?" But then of course Scott had. She had that news to deliver. Another wave of relief washed over him.

Though sixty-three people had died…on purpose.

The relief was replaced with anger.

"Of course, I did. She flew in to check on Gordon."

That stopped him in his tracks. "Lady P flew in to see Gordon?"

"Well, we are in London. Practically her backyard and she did have that news to deliver."

"But to see Gordon? Does he know?"

Scott shrugged. "No. Both of you were asleep." A quirk of his lips. "You were snoring and drooling at the same time. You are quite skilled in the sleeping arts."

"Shut up." God, the thought of Lady Penelope seeing him in that state was mortifying.

Scott burst out laughing.

Virgil thumped him. Just a little. Didn't want to break any of those bird bones of his.

"Ow."

"Wuss."

"If you two have finished?" Yes, there were those two lethal copper eyebrows at work.

Before either could answer, Scott's comms went off. "Scott, dear, Gordon is awake and asking for you. The demands to go home have started and my initial threat of cooking didn't faze him at all."

Wow, that was serious. "FAB, Grandma. We'll be there asap." Blue eyes shot at his brothers. "Well, that's a new one."

"Does he know about the media turnabout?" Virgil's words froze both of his brothers.

"Oh, no."

"Shit."

Scott straightened. "John, secure Thunderbird Five and warn off Eos. The last thing we need is those two in cahouts."

"FAB."

"Virgil, you're on distraction duty. Swipe his tablet if you have to. I want no new social media accounts. Jack is still sorting the last three lawsuits from the jello vs peanut butter war. Occupy him with anything. Paint him if you have to. Grandma would love another portrait. At least it will hold him still for a few minutes. And definitely no outside contacts that aren't vetted beforehand. Call in Kayo if necessary. A bored Gordon incites bedlam."

"FAB." Virgil straightened where he stood.

"I'll handle Alan. If there is one thing worse than a recuperating Gordon, it is both of them recuperating together. Do we have consensus?"

John and Virgil spoke as one. "FAB."

Tall and commanding, Scott Tracy held his ground. "Very well…Thunderbirds Are Go!"

-o-o-o-

FIN.