Warning: Discussion of patient with severe traumatic brain injury. Discussion of religion (Catholicism).

Four: Nightmares and Conversations

At first, they were only allowed to see him through a window in the ICU, and Virgil had to admit that what he saw didn't look much like the brother whose forehead he'd kissed before letting him go into surgery. Pale and swaddled with padding and gauze, the pilot looked much younger than his twenty-seven years. Tubes and hoses and lines criss-crossed his limp frame, and a bank of holographic monitors projected on the wall behind him tracked every heartbeat and flicker of brain activity. Most shocking of all was the cap of bandages that replaced his thick brown hair, and despite the disturbing sight before him, a smile flitted over Virgil's face; it would be a while before Scott could have a super shiny coif again.

When he'd assured himself that the doctors had indeed done all they could, he stepped back to let John take his place at the window and let Kayo push him into a chair for a few moments' rest. He closed his eyes, and-

Instantly, he was back on the island, looking into a pair of brilliant blue eyes-but there was something wrong, something missing deep within those eyes that tore at him with its absence.

A familiar voice quietly broke the morning stillness: "Let's get you fixed up," said the voice, accompanied by a liquid squish.

A laugh, in a tone that he knew-only it was broken, somehow.

"Super shiny," he heard the first voice say, and with a shock, he realized that it was his own voice. The image before him resolved into Scott, only this was a nightmare version; the strong body now thin, its limbs twisted, strapped into a wheelchair.

Gently, Virgil combed hair gel into the regrown coif, smiling as the stranger with Scott's eyes blinked up at him.

"Vvv," said Scott, lips twisting and pursing. "Vvvrrrrg."

"That's right." He reached out to touch the knotted fist that had once made Thunderbird One dance in the endless blue. "Virgil. Say it?"

The eyes lit up, and the mouth spread wide in a grin. "Viiirrggl!" Then the eyes filled with tears, and the face crumpled. "Brrrrd."

It took Virgil a moment, but then it was as if someone had hammered a stake into his heart. "'Bird," he breathed. "You mean 'Thunderbird,' Scotty?"

"Brrrd," Scott repeated. "Zahrrrgo."

Virgil bit his lip and hugged Scott to him, determined that his brother not see his tears. "That's right," he managed through a throat so tight that it ached. "Thunderbirds are go."

"Virgil?"

Kayo's voice pulled him from the nightmare, and he surfaced with a gasp. His eyes popped open to reveal her standing over him, worry creasing her pretty face. "You all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, I was-" He rubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at the sound of stubble. "Just dreaming. Awful."

"I'm not surprised." She sat on the arm of the chair and reached out to wipe a tear from his cheek. "They said he's stable enough for us to go in and sit with him." She frowned. "You were asleep, so I took the first shift; I'm sorry I didn't wake you."

"No, it's all right." He patted her knee. "Thanks for doing that. How is he?"

Like someone who's been buried under a literal ton of concrete, said her expression, but she only said: "He looks like he's resting comfortably. He's still doing okay."

"Good. Where is everybody?" he asked, glancing at the empty room.

"Alan and Gordon are sleeping in the room next to Scott. Grandma went downstairs to find us some food. John's stretching his legs near the lobby; he's hoping to run into Brains, who's due to arrive at any moment." She sighed and stretched her own lean frame, wincing as her vertebrae popped. "Penny will be here soon; she said she had things to discuss with you."

Of course Penny would come; he'd known that as soon as John had slotted him into the comm loop as Field Commander. Virgil had always suspected that Penny was much more than just their London agent, that his father had enlisted her as a keeper of International Rescue's secrets. Now that he was the operating first officer, Virgil had need-to-know that only Penny's information would satisfy. He shook his head; in all the years his family had known her, he'd never dreaded her visits. He supposed that there was a first time for everything.

"Right," was all he said aloud. "I should have known that was coming." He shook off the last vestiges of the nightmare; at this point, nothing about Scott's condition was certain, other than that he was alive-and even that could change, but it would do no good to sit here and stew about it. He dipped a hand into his pocket and felt the rosary beads again, letting their smooth surfaces whisper a modicum of comfort.

Soon, John reappeared with Brains in tow. The engineer's face was composed, but worry flickered in the depths of his eyes, and Virgil brought him in for a brief hug. Brains stiffened for a moment; like John, physical affection was difficult for him, but after a few heartbeats, he relaxed into the larger man's embrace and gave a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, Virgil," was all he said, and when they parted, Brains removed his glasses to wipe his eyes. "How is S-Scott?"

"They finally gave us permission to enter his room. Kayo was in with him a little bit ago; she said he's resting comfortably, as far as she could tell. Lady Penelope is on her way to discuss...things," Virgil added lamely, gesturing to the other members of iR scattered about the lounge. "I'd appreciate it if you were in on the conversation."

Brains blinked. "Oh! Ah, of course." He nodded. "I'd b-be happy to."

Grandma reappeared, lugging a shopping bag loaded with snacks, and everyone found something that would quiet rumbling stomachs. Gordon and Alan emerged, sleep-rumpled, to rummage through the bag, eschewing coffee to amble down to the soda machine. When at last they were replete, everyone fanned out in a holding pattern to await Penny's arrival.

Gordon relieved Grandma at Scott's bedside, and came back grim-faced. Virgil watched as Alan tried to say comforting words on his way to visit Scott, but the aquanaut didn't respond, and his little brother followed him with sad eyes as Gordon sank into in a chair by the window and pulled his knees up to his chest. Alan glanced toward Virgil, who shrugged and shook his head. Alan sighed, and with a last backward glance at his usual partner in crime, headed into Scott's room.

This wouldn't do, Virgil thought. Normally the two youngest, so alike in vibrant personality and love of mischief that they were often called 'the Terrible Twins' by the rest of the family, could almost finish each other's sentences. It pained Virgil to see Gordon shut Alan out like this, so he got to his feet to move closer to his next youngest brother.

"Hey, fishie," Virgil said, perching on a nearby chair. "Wanna talk about it?" As he spoke, Virgil was reminded that Alan had been just a kid when Gordon went through his ordeal, and had been sheltered from many of the harrowing details. Even in a family as close as theirs, some paths had to be walked alone, and this was Gordon's.

The aquanaut shrugged, eyes on the window. "Not really. Not much to talk about anyway; Scott's just lying there, wired for sound. Didn't even know I was there."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Virgil soothed. "I'd like to think that in some small way, Scott knows we're here. He knows deep down that we'd never pack up and leave him here by himself. That's ridiculous."

Gordon said nothing, but nodded miserably. After a long, thoughtful moment, however, his voice returned, hushed and trembling slightly. "Virg...did-was that-is that how I looked, y'know, after my crash?"

Virgil sighed inwardly. Hospitals made Gordon nervous even when he was just visiting. To see his big brother laid out and on a form of life support must have shaken him to the core. "Yeah, you looked like that, only yours was worse." He reached out and squeezed Gordon's shoulder. "But look at how that turned out."

Gordon turned to look at Virgil, tears evident on his face. "Yeah. At least Scotty didn't have his spine ripped in half."

An echo of that terrible day rolled through Virgil, leaving him cold with the nightmare images front and center once more. Somehow, he managed a small smile. "From what the doctors said, he'll be back with us in a few days. I wouldn't worry, Gordy. He's in good hands."

The click of heels on tile sounded in the hallway, and Virgil turned to look up into the lovely face of Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. "Hey, Penny," he murmured, accepting her embrace as one of the family. "I'm glad to see you."

She pulled away with a sad smile. "I'm glad to be here-though of course I'm sick about the reason. How is Scott doing?"

"He's resting. The doctors were pleased with how the surgery came out."

"Thank God." She looked toward Gordon, and motioned Virgil a few steps away from the aquanaut. "How is he?"

"Seeing Scott like this has spooked him good," Virgil replied. "This hits way too close to home for him."

She nodded, bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm sure." She glanced back at Gordon, then looked up at Virgil. "We do need to talk, you and I, but-would you mind terribly if I had some time with him?"

Virgil blinked, wondering why in the world she would ask such a question-and then realized she was speaking to him as she would to Scott. "No, by all means. We're here for the duration."

She smiled, and rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before moving over to Gordon. "Dearest," she said, kneeling beside him and threading her fingers through his mop of honey-colored waves. Gordon turned to study her for a long moment, then slipped his arms around her and clung while she responded in kind, murmuring words of comfort in his ear.

Kayo was waiting for him when he moved back toward the rest of the group, and she slipped her hand into his. "I'm glad they have each other," she mused, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Virgil kissed her forehead. "I'm so glad I have you."

She raised her face to his, clear peridot eyes shining with love for him. "There's absolutely no other place I'd rather be."

Later that night, Virgil woke with a start as someone touched him on the arm. Glancing down, he saw that Kayo was still resting on his chest, and he looked up into Grandma's worried face.

"The doctor needs to talk to you, honey," she murmured, so as not to wake her granddaughter.

With a huge yawn, Virgil carefully got to his feet, allowing Grandma to slide into his place for Kayo to curl up with her head in Ruth's lap. Ruth immediately began stroking the sleek dark hair beneath her hands, and Kayo sleepily rearranged herself into a more comfortable position.

The blinds to Scott's room had not been drawn, and through the slats he could see Dr. Morton standing over the pilot, accompanied by a woman in a white coat and a young man who looked no older than Alan. Both of the newcomers held clipboards and were taking notes as the doctor spoke, and Virgil found himself frowning as he entered the hushed room.

"You wanted to speak to me?" he asked the room, and as one, the trio turned toward him.

"Yes," said Dr. Morton, turning away to consult one of the virtual screens. "Scott's running a fever. We're not sure if it's an infection, or if his brain injury is making it difficult for his temperature to regulate. It's too early to tell which it might be, but we want to be prepared for either situation."

Virgil's mouth went dry. "How soon will you know for sure?"

"In about twelve hours. We'll keep an eye on him until then, and if it becomes clear before that time, we'll take action." Dr. Morton gave him a small smile. "Other than that, his brain activity is good, and it looks like healing is underway. Just a few bumps in the road, that's all."

Virgil knew that 'a few bumps' could turn into 'sinkholes and boulders' very quickly, but he didn't comment. "Thank you for keeping me updated. My brothers and I are trained responders, so if anything goes haywire while we're watching, we'll let you know."

Dr. Morton left on silent feet, his students trailing behind, and Virgil settled into the chair beside Scott. He sat and watched his brother sleep, taking in every inch of the slack frame as if to engrave it on his memory.

How many times, he wondered, had he caught those hands in his, pulling him to safety? How many times had he heard that voice, either commanding, or in jest, or yelling his name? How many times had he looked into those blue-topaz eyes and understood without a word what Scott needed him to do?

How many times, Virgil thought, had he drawn strength from Scott in the face of loss that threatened to grind them into the dirt? When he could not go on, he'd always turned to Scott and taken his cue from his elder brother, who always stood tall, eyes forward, spine straight.

"And now they're looking at me," he murmured to his sleeping sibling. "I don't know how you do this." He snorted. "I didn't think to ask." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm gonna level with you, Scooter. When Dad started International Rescue, I was glad that he picked you to be the leader. And I know that you got that job not because you're the oldest, but because you were made for it." He reclined the chair and kicked his boots up on the footrest, lacing his hands together over his chest, as if they were having a conversation at home in the lounge. "Right before we had our shakedown, Dad came to me one night and asked me to do everything I could to support you, and I promised him I would." He sighed again, heavier this time. "So here I am. I just want you to know that I never wanted this job, so-" He gestured toward the machines and readouts. "As soon as you ditch the hardware, it's yours."

Scott lay unmoving as before, lashes fanned on his cheeks, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of the vent. Virgil sat and watched him again, and then pulled their mother's rosary from his pocket to move the beads through his fingers. The crucifix gleamed in the low lighting as it swung from the chain, its silvered Corpus standing out in high relief, the tiny Face cast in shadow. Virgil wished he could remember how to pray like his mother had; if nothing else, it would pass the time. He knew he could get on his phone and look up the words he'd forgotten long ago, but instead he closed his eyes and tried to listen back through the years as his mother knelt before the antique Crucifix on their living room wall. He could almost hear her voice, musical and soothing, rising and falling.

He lowered the beads to his lap and let his head fall back against the chair. In moments, he was fast asleep.