Virgil's eyes drifted shut and he stubbornly wrenched them open again. It had been years since he had fallen asleep with John in the room, but the sound of his brother typing was soothing in a way he didn't expect. He supposed he was more in tune to sounds, and the rhythm of his brother's fingers lulled him. But he also knew it was because that while John was typing, he was searching for Scott. He was trying to bring their brother home and that was all Virgil wanted right now.
"You can sleep, you know," John murmured when Virgil once again opened his eyes. He glared at his brother, but John hadn't looked up from his screen. Virgil scowled – his brother didn't need to look, he knew him too well.
Despite his disastrous attempt at getting up with Gordon, his doctors had announced that very afternoon that he needed to start physical therapy. Virgil had almost refused – blacking out on his brothers was humiliating enough once, twice would be stupid. But he wasn't given a choice and found, under the therapist's careful direction, that he not only got out of bed, he even walked across the room.
It was now the third day and he could move unaided up and down the corridor. Once he was back on his feet, his muscles remembered what they needed to do and Virgil quickly felt stronger. It helped too that it tired him out: he started sleeping properly rather than dozing all day, which in turn made him feel better.
"I'm not tired," he protested. His session that morning had tired him, but being able to get out of bed stimulated him. Lying in bed wasn't good enough anymore – he needed to be actively helping to find Scott. While John continued tapping on his keyboard, though, Virgil couldn't stop yawning.
"You're also not five," John said. He was frowning at the screen, chewing his lower lip. "Just give into it."
Virgil didn't answer. He didn't want to distract John. His father and Gordon were still seeing Matt off and he wished he could have gone as well. He had been with his doctors when Matt had planned to leave and he didn't blame the man for not wanting to wait.
His friend had been hollow-eyed with a vacant expression of helplessness on his face when he returned from the house. He hadn't found anything – just as Virgil expected. Nicole had stated she was taking him home, and no one had argued. They deserved to be home with their three children, not waiting around in a hospital for no reason. The twins would be a better balm for their father than any medication the hospital could provide.
Virgil's therapist had arrived then, ushering everyone out so she could work with Virgil. But he had seen the look on his father's face even as he escorted his secretary and agent towards the nurse's station.
His father had been his boss, his commander, since International Rescue had started. But in that moment, Virgil had seen just his dad, a man desperately wanting to be reunited with his own children. It was that look that made Virgil feel they were running out of time. Their dad would take them back to the island as soon as he could, not because he didn't want them looking for Scott, but because he couldn't face another wait to find out if three of his sons were alive or dead.
He shifted, restless. Neither his father nor Gordon had returned, although Virgil had expected them back a while ago. He was glad: being in a hospital room wasn't good for his brother and seeing his father's defeat was too much of a painful reminder that they hadn't found Scott.
Staring at the ceiling, Virgil realised John's rhythm was faltering. He was typing faster and faster, a frantic pace that made him miss keys. The others wouldn't have noticed, but Virgil was attuned to sound patterns in a way they weren't. Sitting up, he looked at his brother. John was taking shallow breaths, a flush rising up his neck that contrasted with his otherwise pale face. He wasn't even blinking.
"Johnny-," Virgil murmured, reluctant to break John's concentration. But his heart was hammering hard. John didn't reach this level of focus even on a difficult rescue. It could only mean one thing - and Virgil was terrified to know.
"What've you got?"
"I don't know," John muttered, not looking up. "I'm into something. I haven't seen firewalls like this before and everything is encrypted."
"But-,"
"Exactly." John fleetingly looked up before resuming his frantic pace.
Virgil swallowed. The dark side of the web was a mystery to him, but he knew from John it was dangerous: viruses and encryptions were commonplace there. It was the darker side of the world they needed to access now, searching for places most people didn't know existed.
"You've found him?" His words fell heavy into silence and John didn't react. Virgil watched him, knowing by the tense set of John's shoulders that it was taking all of his skill to stop the system from shutting him out.
However good his brother was, Virgil knew their enemy was better. Not due to skill, but to his ruthlessness. John must have been chasing leads for days to be dragged this far into the network and Virgil knew it was the security and power from Thunderbird Five that meant his brother's ordinary looking laptop hadn't been corrupted. He, too, remembered what had happened to the last laptop John had used to try and find Scott all those years ago.
The door opening made him jump and he looked over as his father entered. The man looked more relaxed than earlier that morning but his frown appeared again as he looked at John.
"If we weren't leaving in an hour, I'd make you sleep," he said.
"What?" Virgil had intended to speak, to draw his dad's attention so John could continue working. But the word blurted from him more bluntly than he meant to and he looked anxiously at his brother. They couldn't go now; not now they were getting somewhere!
His dad moved to the bed, squeezing his shoulder with a smile.
"You've responded well to physical therapy," he said, having mistaken Virgil's cry for excitement. "They've spoken to Brains and Kyrano has offered an inventory of the equipment we have back home. They're happy that you'll do just as well there as you will here and everyone agrees fresh air will do you all good."
"Brains isn't on the planet."
"The doctor doesn't know that." His dad let go and stepped back, looking around. Being stuck in bed with two anxious brothers meant that the room was a mess. Virgil remained slumped as his dad pulled a bag from under the bed (Virgil had no memory of who had put it there) and started tossing things in.
Virgil watched him for a moment, then looked at John. His brother was hunched further over, his fingers still racing. Virgil wasn't sure if he knew their dad was even in the room.
"I thought you'd be pleased." His dad sounded hurt and Virgil looked at him, realising the man was watching him as closely as he was monitoring John. He shrugged, looking at the plain bedspread rather than hold his dad's gaze.
"It's not home," he muttered, fingers absently picking at the blanket. "Not without Scott."
"I know." His father's tone was gentle and he perched on the bed. "I will do whatever it takes to bring your brother home," he continued. "You have my word. But after what has happened, I can't risk you three again."
"But-,"
"I can't! Hopefully, one day, you'll be a father yourself, and then you'll understand. But I need you to be safe. Once you three are home, I can start arranging to bring Alan back to the island as well."
Virgil didn't look up, his hands shaking. He needed to tell the man that they were closing in on Scott and John only needed a little longer. But he dreaded to think what lengths his father would go to in order to prevent them from going after Scott themselves. They couldn't rescue their brother if their father had John and Gordon admitted (they were exhausted enough to warrant it!) and Virgil confined to his bed. It was drastic – but that was their family. They never did anything in half measures.
"Here."
Virgil looked up at the different tone in his dad's voice and realised the man was holding something out to him. His first genuine smile spread across his face as he fastened his watch back around his wrist.
"I'm never taking it off again," he muttered, fingers toying with the buttons but not pressing anything.
"John fixed it," his dad said, an amused note in his voice. Virgil flushed: he had taken it off to try and improve the security of the penthouse. The irony wasn't lost on him.
"Come on," his dad continued, "let's get you out of here."
Virgil was pleased he could get up and dressed without needing assistance. His strength was returning nicely now both his appetite and exhaustion had been sorted. He didn't feel like a hike or running a rescue, but he was positive he could handle most things now without needing support.
Straightening up from tying his shoes, Virgil frowned. His father had gone to sort his release papers and find a wheelchair (ignoring his son's protests!) but Virgil had no idea when John had also slipped out.
"John?" It was stupid; his brother wasn't there. But Virgil looked around before moving. Just as he reached the door, it opened from the other side.
"Eager to leave?" His dad was standing there, a smile on his face. Virgil nodded distractedly, barely noticing the wheelchair his father was pushing. He tried peering into the corridor beyond, but he couldn't see.
"You know the drill, Virg," his dad said softly. Virgil blinked, then realised what was going on. He scowled, but obediently sat down. Getting out of the room was the only way he would find John: his father was effectively blocking the door.
"Well that was boring," a familiar voice said. Virgil looked up as Gordon sauntered down the corridor. Despite his relaxed attitude, he had lost weight and there was a pinched look about him. Virgil felt a flash of guilt; he should be making sure Gordon was somewhere safe where he could rest, not thinking of ways to avoid returning to the island. But the thought fled as quickly as it came: his brother would be furious with him for thinking it.
Gordon was alone, however. Virgil looked in either direction, then caught his brother's eye. Mouthing John's name, he saw Gordon start before looking around. When Gordon frowned at him, Virgil nodded. He knew what he was asking, and yes, John had found something.
Their dad suddenly moved the wheelchair, turning it towards the exit.
"Where's your brother?"
"Restroom," Gordon said promptly. "Actually, I'm just gonna-," he gestured vaguely in the direction of the restrooms and hurried away before their dad could say anything. Virgil heard the man tut, but then they started moving down the corridor.
He was thinking of ways to distract his father but as soon as they got outside, his mind went blank. All he could focus on was the sun on his face. It had been so long since he had been outside, been free, that Virgil sucked in an audible breath, gripping the armrests to stop his hands shaking.
His father squeezed his shoulder, understanding his emotions.
They waited for a few moments, but neither John nor Gordon appeared. His father started shifting in annoyance and Virgil played – casually – with his watch.
It only took seconds for Gordon to respond to his messages with one of his own: stall their father.
"Maybe they went back to the hotel?" he suggested innocently. His father pulled out his cell and started making calls while Virgil stared at the doors, willing his brothers to appear. He wasn't certain how long he could distract his dad before he grew suspicious.
When Gordon signalled they needed more time, Virgil tried not to roll his eyes.
"Have you cleared our flight path?" he asked, knowing full well what the response was. His father looked agitated and shook his head.
"If your brothers don't hurry up, we're going to be waiting ages at the airstrip until we can take off."
"Why don't we meet them there?" Virgil seized the idea. "They can get a cab, right?"
"I don't want to leave without them."
Virgil knew his father's reluctance was no shallow thing. He took a deep breath, mentally apologised for lying, and spoke again.
"I just want to go home," he said softly.
It was enough. His dad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Call your brothers," he said, "and tell them to meet us there. I'll get the car."
He was striding across the parking lot before Virgil had the chance to obey. But it gave him the excuse he needed to call Gordon without trying to hide his movements.
"Don't be long," he ordered as soon as Gordon connected, "If Dad flips, he'll never listen to us."
"Virg-," It was all Gordon said. It was all he needed to say.
A loud ringing filled Virgil's ears. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs and his breath caught. He tried to speak, but his voice failed. He swallowed, hardly daring to hope, scarcely able to believe…
Blag had planned this perfectly. Every move they had made, he had been waiting. But this wasn't a trick, not this time…it couldn't be.
Virgil's vision tunnelled until he was staring at his watch, his connection to International Rescue and therefore his brother. He pressed his cell against his ear with a trembling hand.
"You've found him?" It was a croak, a whisper, a breath…and Gordon heard him perfectly.
His brother quickly reported he had found John in the toilets, only their brother had been pale and shaking. Even while Virgil had listened to their dad ordering them home, John had broken through the encrypted networks and finally found a solid lead on Scott. Once he was through, he had been forced to watch Scott, bound and gagged, being ransomed off by an all-too-familiar voice.
John had kept the connection for enough time to establish that Scott was in Russia before something had forced him from the system.
"John's trying to narrow it down," Gordon said, "but he can't get back in."
The car pulled up and Virgil knew he had to end the conversation.
"Get out here," he said, "Johnny can carry on while we're in the air. At least we'll be going in the right direction."
"Why can't we tell Dad now?"
"We have to be there, Gords. If Dad knows, he'll leave us here."
"F.A.B."
"Just get here before Dad leaves without you."
Gordon acknowledged, then signed off just as their dad got out the car. He was frowning, his irritation obvious. Virgil couldn't conceal something had happened: living on an island meant secrets were the one luxury they couldn't buy. He spoke quickly, hoping his words would be enough to distract his father.
"Gords found John," Virgil said, "he's not well."
While he knew his brother wouldn't be impressed at being under scrutiny from their father, it was the easiest way to defuse the man's temper. Once they were in the air, they could narrow the location and persuade their father to change direction. He wanted Scott back as much as they did: with an exact location, he wouldn't risk delaying. But Virgil wanted to be in the air before they broke the news; he didn't trust his dad not to leave them grounded while he attempted to rescue Scott on his own.
Virgil started drumming his fingers on the armrest. He tried to rise, but the look on his father's face stopped him. It was the chair or the car, and he wasn't ready to come out of the sun yet. Despite the best part of a week in bed, his patience hadn't developed and just as he thought about contacting the guys again, they appeared.
John was still pale, making the bags under his eyes more prominent. Virgil realised he had inadvertently told their dad the truth: John wasn't well. Gordon looked as bad and Virgil wasn't surprised; knowing what was happening to Scott was making his own stomach roll and he hadn't seen anything.
Virgil remained seated as his dad looked at John closely.
"Are you able to fly?" he asked, concern lacing his tone. "I want you to get some sleep as soon as we're airborne. All of you, in fact." He stepped back, looking at Virgil and Gordon as well, "I want you to rest."
"Who's co-piloting?" Virgil mumbled, trying to deny that a sleep sounded good right now. His father looked at him, one eyebrow lifted.
"None of you are fit to fly."
"Are you?" Gordon retorted. "You've had less rest than the rest of us. Rather not crash into the Atlantic, thanks, much as I could do with a swim."
The scathing look wasn't aimed at him, but Virgil still winced. Gordon suddenly found the ground interesting.
"Get in the car. All of you."
They hastened to obey and an awkward silence fell over them as they pulled out of the parking lot. It should have been a moment of triumph, but Virgil sighed heavily. They were closing in on where Scott was; it didn't mean they were any closer to bringing him home yet.
Gordon redeemed himself by offering to call the airfield and sort out their flight plan. Virgil listened in disbelief as his brother manipulated the conversation until the operator agreed he could send the plan over digitally. He had forgotten how charming Gordon could be when he wanted. His brother pulled out a tablet, tapped at it for a few moments before handing it to John.
"Check this for me, will you? You know I'm crap at navigating above the sea."
John looked at it, then nodded at Gordon. When he caught Virgil's eye, he winked and Virgil tried not to sag. They might not know exactly where they were going, but at least they could head towards Russia without causing problems.
They reached the plane and their father left them to get comfortable while he went to clear the final details. They all crossed their fingers that the operator didn't ask why they were going to Russia, but their dad simply told them to strap in when he got back.
Half an hour later and they were airborne. John plugged his laptop in, rolled his neck and set to work. Gordon stretched out, his eyes closing. Virgil wished he had the same ability as his kid brother: Gordon could sleep anywhere. Multiple times Virgil had been forced to wake him when they reached the island after a rescue.
Virgil watched him, glad Gordon could find some peace. When Scott had admitted he didn't know if the other two had survived the explosion, Virgil had been convinced they were dead. Watching his little brother sleep was comforting in its own right.
"You too, Virg."
He started, realising John was watching him in the same way. Virgil shook his head.
"Can't I help?" he asked, "I'm bored of sleeping."
John shook his head. "This has to be me," he said with an anxious glance at the door separating them from their father. "You need to save your strength."
Virgil sighed. Knowing John was right and accepting it were two different things. But his brother had a point: he already had no idea how he was going to brace himself for facing Blag again. He had limited energy reserves at it was.
"Wake me as soon as you find anything," he instructed before tipping his chair back and closing his eyes. A few moments later, and he smiled, feeling the weight of a blanket settle over him. He opened his eyes enough to watch John do the same to Gordon before his brother picked up his laptop again. For the second time that day, Virgil lost himself to the sound of John typing.
He dozed rather than slept and when John's hand rested on his shoulder, his eyes shot open, alertness flooding him.
"You've got him?"
The expression on John's face answered the question even as he shook Gordon awake. They all gathered around Virgil's seat.
"It's a scrambled signal, something is blocking it," John reported, "which got me thinking. They're underground, probably with a ton of concrete in between them and a satellite. So I did some digging and there's an area in North Russia scattered with underground bunkers left over from the 2046 nuclear war."
"Do you know which one?"
Virgil wouldn't have realised it was Gordon speaking if he wasn't sitting next to him: he had never heard his brother sound that deadly before.
John shook his head. "Not for sure. But I've hacked the feed from Five and one of them has had more heat signals moving around it the last few days. It's our best shot."
"I'll tell Dad," Gordon said, making to stand. Virgil held out a hand.
"I'll do it." He hauled himself up and took a step towards the door.
"Virg-,"
"Scott came for me," Virgil said. "He's in this because of me. Again!"
"Go, Virg," John said softly. Virgil realised his hands were scrunched into fists and the sheer emotion overwhelming him right now was going to be instrumental in forcing his father to listen.
He knocked lightly (not wanting to make the man jump) and slipped into the cockpit. His father glanced at him before focusing on the controls. He could have put the plane on autopilot but Virgil understood too well the need to be doing something.
"How're you feeling?"
"Dad-,"
It was all he was capable of saying. Everything swam and he was vaguely aware of his father switching the plane to autopilot before a hand on his shoulder guided him into a seat. But only a small part of him noticed these things.
They had found Scott.
"Virgil?" His father's hands cradled his neck, helping him focus. "What is it?"
"We can't go home," he whispered. His dad sighed, backed away and sank into his seat.
"We've been through this-,"
Virgil shook his head. "We've found him."
"What?" His father paled. In a twisted way, it helped Virgil ground himself. He was used to being the one in control while others panicked, and that was needed now.
"John's found Scott," he said simply. Now wasn't the time to go into what John had spent days doing; their dad must have known they weren't just going to sit there. But John had failed against Blag before and Virgil wondered if, deep down, their father had assumed John would meet his match again.
"Where?" His father's voice was hoarse but Virgil sagged back in his seat in relief. The man believed them!
"Russia." Virgil quickly outlined all they knew. Gordon had sounded deadly before. But it was nothing compared to the expression on his dad's face when Virgil finished speaking and he involuntarily shivered. This was a man who would do whatever it took to get his son back.
His hands tightened on the controls and Virgil was convinced he was about to swing the plane around right then.
Then he ran a hand over his face and the familiar look of exhaustion and worry appeared.
"I can drop you-,"
"No." Virgil lent forward, preparing to stop his father if necessary. They didn't have time to stop somewhere so they could be kicked off the plane and left behind. It was their right to go after their brother.
"I have to get you home-,"
"Dad, no," he said. "You don't."
Virgil attempted to smile when his dad looked at him. He looked lost, torn. Get three sons to safety, or risk them knowing it might be the only way to save a fourth?
"We can do this," Virgil said, his voice gaining strength. "Scott's trained us. Gordon's done this before. This is Scott we're talking about: we have a right to fight for our brother."
"It's too dangerous."
"Any less than flying up to an erupting volcano and winching down onto ground level? We've done dangerous before; you give the order for us to approach danger every time a klaxon goes off."
"That's different! You have machinery, you have…"
"Each other." Virgil sat back. He knew, deep down, that he would get his way. His dad wouldn't even be having this conversation if he had truly made up his mind. "It's just another rescue, Dad, just like we've done hundreds of times."
"I don't know, Virgil…"
Virgil lost any attempt at being calm and rational. "Dad, its Scott. I am not going home without my brother. He's in this because of me and I swear to God, I am not leaving him there. He came for me; every time, he comes back for me. I'm not abandoning him now."
He was breathing hard, his hands clenched again. Scott had walked into his worst nightmare just to try and protect him – just the way he had ventured into an alleyway to keep him safe all those years ago.
A hand suddenly squeezed the back of his neck.
"Strap in," his dad said. He returned to the controls again, his knuckles white. Virgil watched as he lifted a cover, gradually drawing a lever back. Virgil felt the plane lurch and knew they were about to find out precisely what Brains had done to the engines.
"Don't worry about the flight path," Virgil muttered, "Gords has already sorted it."
His father opened his mouth, shut it and shook his head before speaking. "You boys are trouble," he said, fondly.
Virgil grinned, a sinister smile he didn't recognise. "It's time Blag learns that."