Sorry for the delay - life just seems to be getting in the way. Or I really don't want this to end... Not long to go now.
With the phone pressed to his ear, Jeff lent back in his seat, resisting the urge to shut his eyes. He had started a business from scratch, raised five sons on his own and set up International Rescue. He had never felt so tired, though - emotionally and physically.
Hearing a noise, he looked up. For once, he had kept his office door open while working, needing to hear the instant one of his sons needed him. John was loitering in the hallway and Jeff beckoned for his son to come in.
"I'm going to have to call you back," he said. "Something's come up."
He disconnected without another word as John entered, slumping on the sofa.
"Who was that?" he asked, looking up at his father.
"The GDF," Jeff said, tossing the phone back on his desk and standing up, stretching.
"You just hung up on the GDF?"
John sounded impressed and Jeff allowed himself a shadow of a smile before frowning, looking at his son critically.
"You still haven't slept, have you?"
He knew John had barely rested since this had begun, taking it upon himself to find his brothers. Apart from the flight home from Russia, Jeff didn't know when his boy had managed more than a couple of hours at once.
John shrugged. "I tried," he admitted. "I can't switch off."
"You should probably stop with the coffee."
John looked horrified and Jeff chuckled before moving around his desk, perching on the edge so he was closer to his son.
"I mean it. You need to relax, Johnny. You can't keep running on fumes."
"I know." John dragged a hand through his hair, which only made him look worse. "But I said I'd help you."
A pang of guilt hit Jeff. He had asked for John's help, hoping having a challenge would distract his son from paying attention to the state of the rest of the family and take his mind off Gordon and Scott. But he'd never intended John to keep himself up in order to make a difference.
"We're getting there," Jeff said. "The GDF have persuaded the Russian authorities they carried out a stealth operation and cleared out the bunker. They've already rounded up the men we left behind; no one will get close enough to question them and learn the truth."
"And us?" John asked. "I'm pretty sure the GDF don't drop hostages off at home, Dad. We cleared a flight path – the authorities will know we were there."
"We're still working on that," Jeff said. "We're thinking of making it seem like we received a ransom, tipped off the GDF, ignored them telling us to go home and instead went to the rendezvous. It also gives the GDF a reason for searching that area."
"Will they really believe we could call in the GDF for a kidnapping?"
"Yes," Jeff admitted quietly. They were used to living their lives in the shadows, directing the attention elsewhere. They had lived on the island for so long now, operating in secrecy, that he wondered if his sons knew exactly how successful his business was. Jeff Tracy was one of the few men on the planet who could call in favours from almost every government and no one would question it.
John raised his eyebrows, astonished, but Jeff stood up.
"I've got this, Johnny," he said. "Go and get some rest."
John stood up. "That's not why I came," he said, taking a step towards the door.
Jeff almost didn't want to know. He wasn't certain how much more he could deal with. Scott was still unconscious – or asleep, as his father preferred to think – after his episode earlier. Jeff had wiped the footage: his eldest wouldn't want the others seeing the sheer agony in his expression when he thought he had been alone. Brains was monitoring him now.
"What is it?" he asked. It didn't matter if he was on the edge. He had a lot more to give if that was what it took to help his boys.
John sighed. "Virgil won't go back in the infirmary."
Jeff shut his eyes. He understood why Gordon and Alan had been avoiding it. But Virgil had been alright up until now, though Jeff had an inkling of what was running through Virgil's head. His middle son wouldn't have needed to see the footage to know how badly Scott was hurting – the physical abuse was secondary compared to going that length of time believing his brothers were dead. Virgil understood that and, if Jeff knew his son as well as he thought he did, would be blaming himself.
"Go to bed, John," he murmured, putting a hand on John's shoulder. "Get a few hours' sleep if you can. I'll deal with your brother."
He steered his son out of his office, sending him towards his room. He had no idea if John would follow his advice – he had been ignoring him for the entire time Virgil was in hospital, after all – but he could at least relax in the safety of his own room.
Gordon and Alan were in the lounge and Jeff took the chance to hover in the doorway, unseen, to visually check his fourth-born. Gordon was still pale and Jeff knew he would be refusing regular pain relief, adamant he could handle it. But Gordon had been with an older sibling this entire time. Out of all of them, he would be handling events the best and Jeff was satisfied that, for now at least, Gordon didn't need him.
Then he went to find Virgil.
Virgil's bedroom door was shut but Jeff knocked softly and let himself in before his son could deny him access. Virgil was on his balcony but didn't look around when his father entered. Jeff crossed the room and joined him, noting the tight grip Virgil had on the railing. He looked so much like Scott in that moment – the tension in his shoulders, the set to his jaw – that Jeff was taken back to the night he had broken the news to Scott that Blag had broken out.
He would do anything to go back to that night and tell the boys as soon as he had found out. If he had told Virgil, if he had stopped his son from leaving the safety of the apartment…
"Virg?"
Virgil looked at him but didn't say anything. Jeff sighed. Virgil looked haunted – more so than John. He was supposed to be on bed-rest, taking it easy. It was the only reason why the hospital had discharged him. Instead, Virgil had ended up in a fight for not only his own life, but for his brother's, only hours after leaving.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Virgil said, truthfully.
Jeff sighed. "I didn't mean now, I meant…" He trailed off, running a hand over his face. "Why won't you go into the infirmary?"
Virgil scowled. "John told you?"
"He shouldn't have to," Jeff rebuked, then softened. "But I'm glad he did. What's going on?"
"Nothing," Virgil said again, now refusing to look at his father. Jeff shook his head, taking Virgil's arm, steering him inside and shutting the door. The last thing he needed was for his son to catch a chill after everything he had been through. He sat Virgil down on the end of the bed, crouching in front of him.
"Talk to me, kiddo," he murmured.
Virgil clasped his hands between his knees and for a moment, Jeff wasn't sure he was going to say anything. When Virgil did speak, his voice was hesitant.
"Every time," he said, his voice cracking. "Every time it's my fault."
"Virg-,"
"We got cornered in that alleyway because of me," he said and Jeff knew he was talking about the first time this had happened. "Scott came after me, again. He could have been shot on the street, killed in that bunker, because of me."
"You think this is your fault?"
He knew Virgil was blaming himself – his son had admitted as much when they were airborne. But Jeff had hoped that saving Scott, facing Blag for a final time, would alleviate these fears. He should have known – none of his boys let things go that easily.
"I left the apartment," Virgil said simply. "That's how all of this begun."
"It's not," Jeff said. "It began when I got a phone call from your brother and decided to keep it from you."
Virgil looked at him and Jeff wondered if his son had ever pieced together exactly what had happened that day.
"I wanted to keep you happy for a few hours longer," he said, his own guilt crushing him. "I didn't want you to worry. I kept it from you. If I had said something…"
"Dad-,"
"Scott shouldn't have been out in town with you before, either. It should have been me. If you're so adamant this is someone else's fault instead of Blag's, then it's mine."
Every nightmare the boys suffered, every time he saw the past haunting them, was a knife twisting in his gut. He had left them, buried himself in his work, and his children were still bearing the scars.
"No," Virgil said quietly. "It's not you, Dad. We've never thought that."
"And no one has ever blamed you." Jeff reached up, cradling the back of Virgil's neck. "Never think this is on you, you hear?"
Virgil swallowed thickly but nodded. Jeff knew Virgil didn't really believe him; there was only one person who would get through to him. But it was enough for now. He squeezed his hand and drew back, standing up.
"I thought you had dealt with the past years ago?"
He had forced Virgil to attend counselling when he realised how much his young son had been blaming himself. Thankfully, it had worked. Or so he thought.
Virgil shrugged. "So did I," he said, and Jeff believed him.
"Get some rest, Virg. You shouldn't be up."
Virgil looked away and Jeff raised an eyebrow, staring at his son until Virgil looked back.
"Nightmares?"
"Not really," Virgil said. "I'm bored of sleeping."
"Do I need to remind you that-,"
"I died, yeah, I know." Virgil toppled backwards until he was lying flat on his bed, pouting. Jeff chuckled.
"I never thought I'd see the day when you turned down the chance for a nap," he said. He moved towards the door as he spoke. "If you're not going to rest, you could go and see your brother."
"He's unconscious."
"Didn't stop you before."
"I might-,"
"Virgil." Jeff stopped, looking back. "Scott doesn't blame you. He's too busy blaming himself."
"What's he doing that for?" Virgil sounded so incredulous, propping himself up on his elbows to stare at his father, that Jeff laughed.
"He's a Tracy. You two need to talk. Go and see him. You'll feel better."
Virgil made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat and Jeff chose that moment to leave. He knew his son: if he pushed too far, Virgil would do everything in his power to not go to the infirmary, just to make the point that he was as stubborn as the rest of them. It was up to his boy now, and Jeff just hoped his middle son saw sense and realised speaking to Scott was the best thing for him.
He checked on John – confiscating his laptop when he saw him on it, much to John's dismay – and moved back to his office. But after leaving John's computer in there and shutting the door – knowing it wouldn't keep John away for long – he changed direction and moved to the infirmary.
He had done all he could for his sons' right now. The GDF were on the case and would be in touch when they had established a story making it plausible for the Tracys to have been there without incriminating them in the process.
Technically, he should rest the way he was pushing his sons to. But until he knew they were at peace, he couldn't.
He nodded at Brains as he entered, pulling a chair around to Scott's bedside. He would never forget the look on his son's face as he tried to deal with everything he was feeling. It was a far-cry from his confident Field Commander and Jeff wondered if, this time, Scott had been pushed too far.
Jeff had thought John and Gordon had been caught in the explosion. He'd believed Virgil wouldn't wake up. He'd feared they wouldn't find Scott in time. But each time, his doubts had been proven wrong.
Scott, however, had gone for much longer, alone, with those same fears, and there had been no phone call to alleviate the terror.
Jeff brushed Scott's hair back from his face, watching him. He looked calmer now and Jeff hoped he had slipped back into sleep rather than unconsciousness.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" he whispered, repeating what he had asked Virgil. Until Scott woke up properly, Jeff knew the rest of them wouldn't be able to find the peace they desperately needed.
Virgil made it to the infirmary.
He didn't know why he had bothered though.
Scott was awake, but every time they caught each other's eye, one of them quickly looked away. Virgil wanted to blame his brother but knew he was being as bad. Regardless of what his father had said, he couldn't bring himself to accept that he wasn't to blame. Seeing Scott struggling to sit up, vivid marks around his throat and his arm in a cast, starved, barely lucid and covered in injuries, wasn't exactly the best thing to ease his troubled thoughts.
What he didn't understand, however, was why Scott was looking as uncomfortable as Virgil felt. They had always been able to read each other and, even if he was avoiding looking at his brother, this was no different. He knew what was going through his brother's head, but for the life of him, Virgil didn't know how being kidnapped, tortured and deprived of sleep left room for guilt.
"Do you…" Virgil trailed off, clearing his throat. "Do you need anything?"
Scott shook his head, eyes closing in a wince as he did so. Virgil bit his lip. His brother had been awake, on and off, for a few hours. The others had come in when he first stirred, but their father had quickly taken control, making sure they didn't crowd him. He made a point of ensuring Virgil was there most of the time and if the look on John's face was anything to go by, he knew what their dad was doing and agreed with it.
Virgil didn't know what to do. He didn't want to leave. He had spent too long fighting to be back by his brother's side, willing Scott to hold on, to leave him now. Seeing him awake was far better for Virgil than being out of the room. But every time he saw Scott glance at the corners of the room, as if expecting something to be waiting to drag him back, it made Virgil's breath catch.
He didn't know what Blag had tormented his brother with, but he thought, if pushed, he could guess. He had replayed Scott's final words to the man over and over again and there was only one 'she' he could think of that they would be referring to. Anger – overwhelming fury – coursed through him at the idea of Blag even mentioning their mother, let alone using her memory against Scott. It was one thing he was adamant their father wouldn't find out about.
But it was more than that. Blag wouldn't have just used their mother – he would have used them all, the fact Scott had no idea if they were alive or dead, to hold over him. Anyone who met Scott for even a few minutes could figure out what – who – his weaknesses were.
Knowing that didn't ease Virgil's guilt. Scott would have had no reason to believe he had survived the crypt. Thinking Virgil was dead would have undermined Scott's attempts to survive. If his brother had stopped fighting because of him…
The door opening made them both jump. Gordon slipped in with an apologetic look.
"I'm just…" He gestured towards where Brains kept the painkillers and Virgil nodded. Gordon was taking the bare minimum and Virgil wasn't going to stop him. He looked at Scott, whose eyes had narrowed as he watched Gordon. Virgil knew they still hadn't told him what had happened, but figured it wouldn't be long before John cracked.
Gordon only took a few steps before he stopped. He stared. Virgil thought it was at Scott, then realised it was at both of them. An annoyed look flickered over his face and, for the first time since Scott had woken up, they traded concerned glances.
"Gords?" Virgil stood up, but Gordon backed off, shaking his head.
"Screw it," his brother muttered. "This is stupid."
He turned on his heel and walked out, the door slamming shut behind him. Virgil hurried after him but when he tried to push on the door, it only moved an inch. He stared, trying again and hearing a soft grunt.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Gordon's voice was muffled but Virgil knew he was sitting on the other side of the door. Virgil couldn't open it – nor would he attempt to force it knowing Gordon was injured and if he tried harder, he would only hurt his brother.
"Don't be an idiot," Virgil said. "Come and take something."
"No." There was a sullen note in Gordon's voice.
"Gordon-,"
"I'm not the one being an idiot," his brother continued. "I'm not moving until you two talk to each other."
"I know you're in pain, Gordon. Just take something."
"No."
Virgil groaned, resisting the urge to bang his head on the door. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Scott had sat up straighter, clearly intending to get up. If there was one thing Virgil knew, it was that his brother did not have the strength to be out of bed. He held out a hand.
"Stay there," he said, turning back to the door.
"Gords-,"
"No!" Gordon – if anything – was leaning further back on the door. "I didn't get you breathing again or take a bullet for the pair of you to be such asses you won't even speak to one another. You feel guilty, he feels guilty – deal with it!"
Virgil sighed, closing his eyes, before turning to face Scott.
"Is he okay?" Scott's voice was hoarse and Virgil knew days without sufficient liquid were still taking their toll. Virgil shook his head.
"He thinks we're being idiots."
"I don't just think it, I know it!"
Virgil ignored Gordon and crossed back to the bed, sitting back in his chair. He knew Gordon – there was no way he was letting them out. Virgil might not have minded – he had been sitting here in awkward silence for an age as it was – but he knew Gordon was in pain and refusing to take any medication until they had spoken. Gordon had saved his life; he owed it to his brother.
"He says we're both feeling guilty." Virgil spoke to his knees rather than Scott. "Which is stupid because-,"
Scott flinched. Virgil looked up, staring at him.
"You're not?"
Scott looked away.
"What the hell do you have to feel guilty about?!"
Scott finally looked him in the eye and held his gaze. Virgil forgot to breathe at the pain in his brother's expression – not just physical pain either.
"I chose," Scott muttered. He swallowed hard. "I chose and you died."
"For God's sake, I'm still alive! Why does no one focus on that part?"
Scott looked away. "I didn't think you were. There wasn't a reason for you to be. I didn't know they were coming. I didn't know they were alive. I picked Matt over you and you drowned because of it."
"I made you," Virgil said. "I made you pick Matt."
Scott shrugged. "You're my brother."
His gaze fell to Virgil's hands. Realising that the red marks around his wrists were visible, Virgil pulled down his sleeves, hiding them.
"You're my brother and I made a decision that cost you your life. After I promised…after I swore…"
He trailed off, biting his lip. Virgil wasn't certain he had ever seen Scott cry before – it had been one of the problems from their youth. But he turned his head, his free hand lifting to wipe tears away before Virgil could comment.
"You promised Mom?" Virgil said softly. This was Blag's fault: he had forced his brother into an impossible situation and then held it over him.
Scott couldn't hold his eye as he nodded. "It didn't matter what he did to me," he whispered, "as long as you were safe. But you weren't…because I chose."
"No." Virgil had no idea when he left the chair, but he was suddenly sitting on the bed, wanting to be closer to his brother.
"Blag chose. He twisted everything. It would have destroyed us if you had chosen me over Matt and you know it."
"But-,"
"No!" Virgil interrupted, his tone firm. "I got myself into that situation. I went out, knowing something was wrong. I got caught and because of it, you guys could have all been killed."
"This isn't-,"
"My fault?" Virgil suddenly sat back, exhaling sharply. Everything his father and brothers had been telling him suddenly seemed to make sense. He gave a hollow laugh. "Maybe not. But it's sure as hell not your fault either."
Scott looked at him, his eyes still swimming with tears, and Virgil did something he hadn't done for years. He pulled his brother into a hug and it only took a split-second before he felt Scott's good hand gripping the back of his shirt, holding on, reassuring himself that Virgil was still breathing.
"I'm okay," Virgil said, sitting back again. He caught his brother's eye. "We're okay."
For the first time since he had woken up, Scott's watery smile was genuine and he nodded. Then he cleared his throat and Virgil slipped back onto his seat, both suddenly self-conscious at what had just happened.
"How did they find you?" Scott asked and Virgil shrugged.
"I'm still not entirely sure," he admitted. "But it's something to do with John bugging you."
Silence fell between them again but it wasn't the uncomfortable silence of before. This time, Virgil didn't know what to say because he didn't know how he was feeling. The guilt had rested heavily on him ever since he had woken up at the hospital but, finally, he felt it begin to lift slightly. Knowing Scott blamed himself just as much didn't alleviate his own, but it made him realise there wasn't enough guilt to go around – they couldn't both feel it and hope to heal.
"He brought Mom into it, didn't he?" His voice was barely controlled and Scott didn't need to answer; his expression told him.
Virgil's hands clenched into fists. "That bastard…"
"He's dead." Scott sounded exhausted. "It doesn't matter anymore."
One glance was all Virgil needed to know that was as far from the truth as they could get. But he also knew his brother wasn't ready to talk about it yet and he put a hand on Scott's shoulder for a moment before activating his watch.
"You can come in now," he told Gordon. There was a pause before the door opened and Gordon appeared, looking at them carefully before entering the room. He once again took a few steps before stopping and rolling his eyes.
"Dunderheads," he told them. Virgil moved across to the supplies and tossed Gordon the pills. His brother caught them and popped the lid.
"Don't do that again," Virgil told him. The last thing he needed right now was to feel responsible for another brother's pain. Gordon smirked at him.
"Don't be an ass then," he said. He dry-swallowed a couple of tablets and moved closer to the bed. Scott looked at him and smiled and it was enough for Gordon to sit down. He might have struggled while Scott was unconscious, but now his brother was awake, Virgil knew he wouldn't be leaving any time soon. But Scott wouldn't remain awake much longer.
Virgil stepped towards the exit.
"Where are you going?" Gordon sounded confused and Virgil smiled at him.
"To get some sleep," he said, "before you use your favourite come-back."
The last thing he needed was for the others to remind Scott that he had actually died. But he also felt that, right now, he might actually be able to rest easier. He caught Scott's eye on the way out and his brother nodded at him. Virgil grinned.
It was going to be a while before Scott was okay – before either of them were okay. But for now, at least, they were back on the same page.