Eleven: Island Time

"Tracy Island to Thunderbird Two."

High above the Pacific, Virgil yawned, making a slight correction to the course of his beloved green craft. "This is Thunderbird Two," he replied. "We're about fifteen minutes out, Grandma, what's up?"

"You're gonna need to make a detour."

He quirked an eyebrow and flicked through the displays one by one. "You sure? Radar's clear from here to the island," he confirmed. "Nothing that we need to avoid."

"You're not avoiding; you're making a pickup." An edge of excitement had crept into her voice, and Virgil's heart gave a thump.

"What are you saying?"

Now the grin was evident. "Set course for Christchurch, sweetie," she crowed. "Scotty's coming home!"

Virgil reached out and thumped the arm of the aquanaut dozing in the copilot seat. "Y'hear that, Gordy? We're gonna go get Scott!"

"Bzuh?" Gordon's head jerked up, limbs flailing. He swiped at a line of drool on his chin and screwed up his eyes against the dawn streaming through the windscreen. "Scotty?"

"Yeah! Scott's coming home; we're gonna go get him." Virgil found himself grinning as he flicked switches and reset 'Two's course. "Thanks, Grandma; we'll be in touch once we're airborne."

"Okay, sweetie. Talk to you soon. Tracy Island out."

"Man. I can't believe it; he's finally getting to come home," Virgil murmured. "Maybe now we can get back to some sort of normalcy, huh?"

Gordon didn't reply.

"Did you go back to sleep?" Virgil glanced over at the aquanaut, a frown creasing his brow when he saw that Gordon was indeed awake, but was silently staring out the window. "Hey, what's wrong? This is what we've been waiting for, right? To finally have him back?"

"Yeah," Gordon agreed, shifting in his seat. "But he won't be...you know, back back." The amber eyes fell to the hands in his lap. "Not for a long time. Maybe not ever."

Quit that, were the words on Virgil's tongue, but he swallowed them. "We knew from the start he'd have a long recovery," he reminded his younger brother. "Dr. Morton didn't pull any punches about that."

"No." A sigh. "I dunno what's wrong with me."

"Come on, I know you didn't think that he'd get out of the hospital and it'd be business as usual, did you?" Virgil shook his head and made a slight correction to their course. "He had a traumatic brain injury. He was in a coma for two weeks. He-"

"Okay, V, I get it." Gordon blew out an explosive sigh. "And no, I didn't think he'd jump out of bed yelling 'woohoo, I'm back, Thunderbirds are go'." The chiseled face was stormy under blond brows, the jaw tight. "I don't know. Just…" Gordon's voice trailed off, and Virgil raised an eyebrow; for Gordon to be without a pithy comeback was serious indeed.

"One day at a time, Gordy," Virgil reminded him. "That's how we'll all get there. One day at a time." He spared his younger brother a glance. "That's how we got there with you."

The way Gordon stiffened let Virgil know he'd hit the nerve perfectly, and Virgil's heart gave a painful squeeze. Gordon, too, had been fetched from a hospital in a not-quite-healed state once upon a time, and the memories were biting hard. "I was the world's worst convalescent," he said sourly. "Scott? You're gonna have to hog tie him to the bed to keep him out of the hangar."

"Well, at least he'll be in a hoverchair for the time being." Virgil swung TB2's nose around and put the craft down in a field next to the cement helicopter pad. "Hopefully we'll be able to keep tabs on him for a while."

Gordon held out a hand. "Fifty bucks says he'll last three days before he wants out."

Virgil scoffed. "Pssh, no bet. I give him twenty-four hours." They shared a grin, and Virgil was cheered as he flicked switches and shut down his beloved 'Bird. "Come on, fishie. Let's go get our fearless leader."

OoOoOoOoOoO

Over the years, it had become very apparent to Virgil and his brothers that International Rescue had fans and admirers the world over, and that the appearance of a Thunderbird in non-emergency situations was a prime photo opportunity. With his easy charm and dazzling smile, Gordon had been the one who had indulged the press the most, donning his blues to attend lifesaving competitions and ocean conservation events (though he wore a tux as a celebrity judge at a Miss Australia pageant). Scott had flown Thunderbird One to thrill a Graduation Day crowd at his Air Force Academy alma mater a few years previous, and John had recently accompanied Ridley to the International Space Station for a 'space summit' in full iR regalia. Even Alan had gotten into the act, proudly wearing his blues to film a series of children's PSAs on fire and earthquake safety.

However, today Virgil had no desire to draw attention as they fetched Scott from the hospital. Besides, with the recent quake, some might see them and think another emergency was at hand, and the last thing Scott needed was to see people panicking. So it was that after securing 'Two on her makeshift landing pad, Virgil and Gordon exchanged blues for civvies, and slipped unnoticed through the crowd at Auckland Memorial Hospital. If the smudge-eyed nurse they shared the elevator with realized who they were, she either didn't comment, or was yawning too much to pay attention.

The hallway was quiet as they stepped off the elevator and swiped their well-worn visitor IDs through the card reader, and as they entered the recovery unit, Virgil smiled once again at the familiar jet-age furnishings. Weeks earlier, as part of his duties as Interim President of Tracy Industries, John had convinced TI's accounts payable department to spring for a remodel of the bland and uncomfortable space. In gratitude, the hospital had named the recovery unit after its celebrity patient, ensuring that even after he left, the comfortable environment his family created would remain for future patients.

When his brothers entered his room, said celebrity patient was sitting upright in a regular chair, wearing his usual jeans, Oxford shirt, and Chucks, the remains of a non-pureed lunch on the table before him and an American football game on the television. As Virgil watched, Scott picked up the plastic cup of iced tea and sipped without mishap, a smile spreading across the well-loved face at the antics of the players on the screen. The brown hair atop his head was still a bit too short for his trademark styling gel, but had grown enough to cover the scars from his surgery. Virgil cleared his throat, a habit he'd picked up so as not to startle Scott; however, the blue eyes flicked unerringly toward his visitors, and his smile widened.

"Hey, you two," Scott chirped. Pushing the wheeled table out of the way, he got to his feet with a small wobble, but held out a hand to stay his brothers when they would have rushed to steady him. "Come to fetch the invalid home?"

Rather than starting in on his usual teasing, Gordon's expression was full-on rescue mode. "Where's your hoverchair?" he snapped. "Last thing we need is for you to take a header."

Scott raised an eyebrow, then shot Virgil a glance. "Uh, it's over there," he pointed out, plucking a keyfob from the table before him and thumbing it to life. The sleek little craft beeped, rose from the floor and floated over, its control panel illuminated in green to show that it was ready for use.

"Take it easy, Gords," Virgil muttered, as Scott eyed the aquanaut warily. "How are you feeling today, Scotty?"

"Excellent. Looking forward to getting home; this place is making me stir crazy." His conversation was now almost as easy as it had been before his injury, with only the occasional groping for words. "How's life on Planet Tracy?"

"Can't complain," Virgil replied, hanging on to the chair so Scott could ease his tall frame into the seat. Displaying a level of dexterity that made Virgil's heart soar, Scott buckled the safety belt and tightened it over his hips, then reached for the joystick and nudged it into life. "Looking pretty savvy with that thing," Virgil commented.

"Yeah, it's a clever little gadget." Scott made it slide from side to side, then turn in a slow circuit. "It needs an engineer's touch, though. You and Brains could soup it up nicely." He grinned. "I know your fingers have got to be itching to get a hold of it."

Virgil barked out a laugh. "Well, I might have a few ideas for some refinements," he quipped. "For now, let's just make sure we get you out of here in one piece." He grabbed up Scott's bag of toiletries, hospital swag, and a thick packet of get-well cards bundled together with surgical tape. "I understand there were goodie baskets delivered this morning to the staff," he informed Scott, handing Gordon the bag to collect a large floral arrangement sent by Ridley and the crew of Global One. Gordon had already grabbed up a potted plant sent by the senior staff of TI, so he dropped the bag in Scott's lap, sprinkling the former patient with glitter from the handmade cards.

"That's right," Scott replied, brushing glitter from his jeans. "Remind me to thank John and Grandma for thinking of that."

Virgil ducked into the bathroom and bedroom to make sure they hadn't left anything behind, and he paused in the doorway to look at the bed Scott had vacated under his own power that morning. The walls were bare of their previous holographic displays, the IV poles stood unadorned, and all the tubing and hoses were long since taken away. The small camera interface that had allowed them to see Scott from their comms was gone as well, confirming Virgil's suspicion that John had received the word first and come to retrieve the unit.

There was something else he needed to remember, something important-Ah, he remembered now. He moved to the bedside table and pulled open the drawer, and was relieved to find that Gordon's gold medal was not there. He'd double check before they left, but it seemed that either Scott or his nurses had made certain the precious object was packed in Scott's belongings.

He shut the drawer and studied the recliner situated next to the bed. He wondered if he could even guess at how many hours they'd spent in it, whether talking and reading to an unresponsive Scott, dozing off during long vigils, or in his case, thumbing the beads of his mother's rosary while pleading for Scott's recovery. Now that day was here, and he stood with tears welling as he took one last look at the empty room. Scott had come back to them, and now he was going home to complete his recovery. It had been nothing short of a miracle, and he knew that the fancy baskets of fruit and cookies and other snacks were only a small demonstration of their gratitude.

Gordon appeared in the doorway. "You planning on moving in, Virg?" He snorted. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

"Coming." Virgil smirked at Scott before taking up a position behind the hover chair. "Besides, I owe Scott a cup of coffee that's not from a hospital."

OoOoOoOoOo

"Welcome home, Scott!"

The cheer had come from five throats, but Alan was the first to break ranks from between John and Kayo and fling himself at his eldest brother the moment the lift touched the hangar floor. "So glad you're home!" he squealed.

Ruth came forward and pried Alan off. "Now don't crowd him," she chided. "Let's all get upstairs, and we'll have a nice dinner to celebrate."

"Uh, well, we just ate," Gordon explained, as Brains did a quick fade into the background and John and Kayo exchanged a squeamish look. "But I agree with the getting upstairs part." He yawned. "This little fish needs some shuteye."

"Wait." Scott maneuvered the hoverchair past 'Two's bulk until Thunderbird One's silo came into view. The family fell silent, and Virgil stepped up beside him, his hand resting on Scott's shoulder.

"God, she's beautiful." Scott's voice was ragged with unshed tears. "Never thought I'd see her again."

"Just took a little while to get here," Virgil reminded him. "Speaking of, do you wanna spend some time with her? I've got stuff I can do down here if you wanna hang out for a few."

Scott looked up at his 'Bird for a long moment, then shook his head. "No, let's get you and Gordy upstairs. She's not going anywhere...for a while, anyway."

OoOoOoOoOoO

Later that night, Virgil was getting himself a glass of water from the refrigerator door when he heard voices from the living room. Quietly, so as not to disturb the conversation, he climbed the stairs halfway to the lounge, and then perched himself on a step that brought him to eye level with the floor.

"I know this was really rough on you," Scott was saying to the other person in the room. "This brought up some bad memories, I'm sure."

"Kinda, yeah," came the reply, and Virgil smiled sadly to himself: Gordon. "I'm glad Pen-Lady Penelope was there; she and I talked a lot while you were asleep."

"I'm glad she could be there for you. Virgil tells me that you two have really hit it off."

"Yeah, well, Virgil needs to keep his mouth shut," Gordon snapped, but Virgil chuckled, echoing his oldest brother.

"Come on, it's pretty obvious there's a thing between you two," Scott chided goodnaturedly, but then his voice went soft. "You know, since I woke up, I've discovered something...something I should have known a long time ago."

"That I'm the cute one in the family?"

"Oh, we decided that a long time ago," Scott breezed, and it brought a smile to Virgil's lips to hear Gordon edging back into his quippy self. "No, this is important enough that I want to pass it on to you."

Gordon sounded more than a little dubious. "Oh? I think the last time you dispensed a nugget of brotherly wisdom it was of the 'don't eat yellow snow' or 'don't take wooden nickels' or 'don't squat with your spurs on' variety."

"I missed your sass, Gordon, but I tell you what: My sass tank is quickly getting full."

Virgil snorted into his glass of water, but thankfully neither of his brothers heard the noise.

"Hey, just bringing things back to normal," Gordon said. "What's this wise dictum, oh honored eldest brother, that I might inscribe it upon my heart and the nearest public bathroom wall?"

When he spoke, Scott's voice was quiet again, and deeply thoughtful. "What I discovered is...is that time is precious, Gordy. It gets away from us so fast."

Gordon was silent.

"We all know this," Scott said gently. "We've known this ever since we lost Mom, and when you got hurt, and then with Dad…" He cleared his throat. "Anyway. What I mean is, if you think you love Penny, then you ought to tell her. Don't wait."

Virgil nodded to himself at the sage advice. He himself had received the same advice, though it had been from Grandma rather than Scott, with the result that he and Kayo were beginning to consider the future with a great deal of seriousness.

Now it was Gordon's voice that was soft. "I know. I will."

"Make sure you do it soon, Gordy. In a business like ours, your next callout might be your last. Mine almost was." A sigh. "All right, enough of that. I think I have something that belongs to you."

Virgil sat up, setting aside his glass to peer between the couches at his brothers. As he watched, Scott dug around in the bag they'd brought home until he came up with a small, flat box covered in black velvet. He opened the lid of the box, revealing the palm-sized golden disc surrounded by its precisely folded blue ribbon embroidered with white stars. "This meant more to me than you'll ever know."

Gordon's throat worked. "If you need to keep it a while longer, that's fine with me."

"Well, I'm back where I belong...so now it needs to go back where it belongs, too." Scott smiled, then closed the lid before slowly getting to his feet. Carefully putting one foot in front of the other, he crossed the lounge and placed the medal in Gordon's hands. They stood looking down at it for a moment, and then Gordon's arms went around Scott, hugging his oldest brother to him in a tight grip with the medal pressed between them. For the first time since they'd been called to Christchurch all those weeks ago, the aquanaut's body relaxed, the broad shoulders hitching with quiet sobs.

"Shhh," Scott soothed, his hand against the back of Gordon's head. "Big bro's here, fishie. It's gonna be okay."