This story is actually the tweaked version of the first draft of the epilogue for Floodswept. I liked it well enough, but I decided it didn't have the right feel I wanted for the end of the story so it was scrapped. And since I'm not one to let a few hundred good words go to waste I turned it into this story! It's a short little thing but I hope you enjoy. ~Lou

P.S.- Forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but I do accept prompts for shorts, so if you have any ideas leave a comment and I'll see what I can do. :)

Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort

Rating: K+

Summery: Despite all he's seen, all that's happened, and all he's been through, Alan's still only a sixteen year old kid. And that other stuff takes a toll sometimes.

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the Thunderbirds, I just like to hang out with them every once in a while.

Only Little

The endless droll of a soft voice slipped into Virgil's sleeping thoughts. It wasn't the presence of sound that had disturbed him, but the strangeness of it. Where were the rustling palm leaves and exotic bird calls of his island home? And who was speaking in his bedroom?

Sick of confusing questions with confusing answers, Virgil clawed through the fogginess pressing in on his brain and pushed his way back to consciousness, his eyes opening to slits.

The room was lit with bright white fluorescent and carried the strong scent of disinfectant; this was certainly not his bedroom. The infirmary? No this place was different… a hospital. He was hurt then?

Virgil let out a low groan. Yes, he was. The aching in his middle confirmed that, though the familiar haze of medication dulled the pain. A brotherly voice broke through that haze.

"Virgil?"

Oh, yes. Here was one of the very few nice things about being bedridden. The company.

A hand wrapped around his own, fingers squeezing gently. "Virge? Can you hear me?"

He could, but his mouth was having a hard time communicating that fact, so his fingers squeezed back and he made his voice croak out, "Sc'tt?"

But then he started coughing, these awful chest-rattling things, and spikes of pain reached out of the haze to stab at him. He brought a hand to his abdomen to try and soothe the hurt, but all he could do was tug weakly at his blankets.

The brotherly voice was murmuring, the individual words washed out to Virgil's ears, but the comforting tone soothed him. A hand clung to his until the pain slunk slowly away, back behind the fog. There was a straw at Virgil's lips, and he took a sip before he tried again. "Scott."

His brother was frowning, a tremor in his voice that Virgil could hear when he spoke. "No, Virgil. It's Alan."

"Alan?" Fuzzy shapes started to sharpen in the too bright room, and, sure enough, Alan came into focus at Virgil's bedside, and the sight of him snapped away the drowsiness. His baby brother was red rimmed eyes and messy hair, and startlingly alone.

Alan was never supposed to be in a hospital with an injured brother by himself.

A smile grew on Alan's face as he was recognized. "Yeah, it's me. How're you feeling?"

"Sore… We were on a rescue? What happ-" But the memories clicked into place before the sentence could even be finished.

He and Alan had been on leave from IR, and decided to take a day trip to see the Vehicle Expo. It was fast cars coupled with incredible engineering, the perfect outing for the two brothers. He and Alan had been laughing, hanging out and having fun. But then it'd gone wrong.

There had been a robbery, criminals driving the cars right off the stage, right through the window. Glass had exploded.

And Virgil…

His hand reached for his stomach again, this time feeling the rows of bandages wrapped around his torso. "How bad was I?"

His words were a tentative whisper, but he regretted them as soon as they left his lips. Alan's face turned grim and his eyes stared at something far away, clipped words replacing his soft tone. "Bad enough to need a transfusion."

He nodded to the bag of blood hanging above Virgil's bed, and Virgil just registered the IV line in his wrist. He clung a little tighter to his little brother's hand. "I'm sorry, Alan."

Alan's eyes flashed surprise, and he jerked his head back towards Virgil. "None of this is your fault!"

Maybe not… but that didn't change the fact that Virgil was the reason for the haunted look in Alan's eyes. This never should have happened, Alan was only a kid. Even on missions, when he saw things no sixteen year-old boy should ever see, they all had always made sure he would never have to see them on his own.

And that was just how Virgil left him, alone, watching his big brother bleed out before his eyes.

"Scott's on his way." Alan said suddenly, just to fill up the space. "He's taking Thunderbird One and everything, just get here faster. The hospital didn't want to let you go so soon, but then Johnny got involved and you know how scary he is when-"

"Alan, are you okay?" Virgil cut in softly, stopping the rambling. Alan had been speaking to distract him from his trembling.

"Me? I'm-"

"Fine?"

Alan opened his mouth, as if to agree, but a sob caught itself in his throat instead, and all of a sudden he was shaking breaths and tear streaks. One hand tightened around Virgil's, the other he brought up to his face as if to hide the crying.

Tugging gently on his hand, Virgil pulled a shuddering Alan into as tight a hug as he could manage, his baby brother's head resting on Virgil's chest.

Oh, Alan, I'm so sorry. "Shh, Allie, it's okay. You did good."