8

Deep in the heart of the Malaysian jungle, an unknown force was ready to rise.

'Agent Seven-Nine, come in'.

'Reading you loud and clear General X' a deep voice responded.

'You have excelled yourself this time Agent, International rescue have just released a statement that they are currently out of action after being sabotaged.'

'You are very kind General; I can't wait to implement the next stage of the plan'.

'You lost the submarine though?' There was an awkward silence, the agent's large brows furrowed in frustration giving him a formidable expression.

'Yes that was….unfortunate. It won't happen again'.

'It better not, you have failed me before'.

'It will not happen again General, I am confident that we will succeed. We have failed to take their technology by force but by turning the public against international rescue we will still prevail!' The agent's voice raised a couple of octaves in excitement.

'We will be proceeding with operation shadow hawk at twenty-three hundred hours local time.'

'Excellent, I await your report Agent Seven Nine, over and out'.

The shadowed figure spun round in his chair, locking his fingers in front of him. He had to admit that since the general forced him to assemble a team of agents (Instead of him running like a lone wolf) he was making progress. The candlelight played across his face accentuating his already disproportionate features. He had large brows and a bald head but he was a man of several faces. A chameleon. Agent Seven - Nine was wearing an ebony silk gown with a large gold collar that jutted out over his shoulders. The gold gleamed in the candlelight like some exotic treasure. Never had he been so close to success! For a long time, he had pursued the Thunderbirds in vain, longing to own them and to be part of their secrets so he could use them for his own nefarious designs. It was futile! They were too well equipped and evaded his plans with ease. He had tried photographing them, luring them out to rescues to steal the craft. He had even tried forcing his half-brother to betray them, all to no avail! He stood vexed and strode into the cavernous chamber where his brother's statue stood. His footsteps echoed to a halt. He had taken them apart piece by piece this time, targeting them directly. The last exercise had gone almost to perfection save losing the submersible. 'So, I couldn't have your machines or your technology but I will have your reputation international rescue, I can promise you that!' His manic laughter filled the temple. 'When I am through with you, no one will want your help ever again. I will turn you all to ashes and my own creation will arise in its place!'

Virgil hated it here. It wasn't the family's fault; from what he could see they were an incredibly friendly and welcoming bunch of people but that's all they were. He was connected to them by blood but that was all. Any affection or relationship he had with his family had been lost in the accident and all that was left was a constant keening pain to remember what he had lost, not what he could have.

He stared at the blank page in front of him; he was supposed to keep a journal of his memories. He had been 'home' for a week now and they had been fleeting, flickering at his mind like flames only to be extinguished in a heartbeat. It was just so frustrating! He slammed the pen down in frustration and slumped in his chair. He listened to the gulls and the ocean crashing onto the shore below. His room overlooked the back of the island away from the pool and plaza. He took in the green of the palm trees and the yellow of the sand on the shore below. It was peaceful here he reflected, if he were just on holiday he could appreciate its beauty.

He looked around what he was told was his room. It was very minimalist with sparse furnishings but the walls were covered in art. He stood up suddenly drawn to the painting above the chest of drawers. It had a juvenile quality to it, some of the features were not quite in proportion but it was still a lovely piece. It depicted a sunset over a farmstead, the sun a blazing glory of warm autumn tones washing over the fields in the foreground of the image. The brushstrokes for each individual blade of wheat could be seen and Virgil could almost imagine the soft sway of wheat in the breeze. An image started to form from the back of his mind. Slowly at first it came creeping forward. He closed his eyes to focus, what could he see? A canvas half complete. He felt the breeze on his face as he added the brush strokes to the wheat, he dipped his paintbrush back on the palette and noticed how bronzed his arm was. He continued to work as the sun slipped away around him in pure tranquillity, submerged in his task until he heard a shout. He looked up startled, when had it started to get dark? There was a slight chill to the crisp autumn air, the last few leaves starting to drop from the tree on the perimeter of the field. He noticed a young brunette teen working his way through the waist high crop.

'Hey Virg! Are you coming home tonight? Dad's back remember?'

'Dad's home!' Virgil exclaimed - excitement welled up in him. The other lad was breathless from running and hunched over his knees to catch his breath. Virgil startled when the boy looked up. It was Scott! A much younger Scott perhaps sixteen? Virgil took in his flushed face with those bright blue eyes and distinctive cheekbones. He still had a boyish quality here that had since been lost and replaced with a sterner sometimes world-weary expression but it was still his Scott, his brother. With that realisation the memory began to fade, Vigil panicked willing his mind to claw and grab on but the memory as it faded into darkness. He quickly ran back to the desk and picked up the journal and the pencils he had found in the drawer and set to work.

Sometime later there was a knock on his door. Scott entered with a tray of food, Virgil had yet to come and dine with them since coming home. He had tried the first night out of courtesy but it was so awkward he had promptly made his excuses and left. They had been taken it in turns to bring his meals to him, today it was Scott.

'Come in'.

'Hey, thought you might be hungry and I was passing this way.' Scott set the tray down on the coffee table near the TV.

'Thanks'.

'Are you drawing?' Scott noticed the pencils scattered across the desk. He tried not to get too excited by the prospect. Virgil had barely said or done anything since coming home. He had completely withdrawn into himself and who could blame him when everything he had loved and been passionate about had been wiped like a clean slate from his mind?

'Yeah, I realised that when Gordon said I was the creative one that some of these paintings in here might be mine.' Virgil stood and pointed to the one he had admired earlier. 'Did I paint this?'

'Yes' Scott sat down on Virgil's bed. 'I remember I came across you just as you were finishing it. You were fourteen when you painted that, you have such a talent'.

Virgil smiled at Scott but inside he was full of elation. Scott had confirmed it! He had remembered it wasn't a dream or wishful thinking it had been an actual memory. Small and fleeting but there! He dared to hope it was the beginning of something more.

'Something you want to spill?'

'Huh?' Vigil looked puzzled.

'That thing you do when your eyes light up and you look like your about to burst usually means you have something you want to say' Scott smiled.

Virgil sat down at the desk immediately increasing the distance between him and Scott. He was conflicted. On the one hand he wanted to shout for joy and grab Scott in his excitement but the other part was telling him that he didn't want to get their hopes up when he couldn't guarantee he could remember anything else. He shouldn't reveal he had remembered just yet.

'It's ok I won't push you to tell me, I just remember that what you used to be like when you were young'. Scott was scared that that glimmer of the old Virgil would shrink away into itself again.

'What was I like when I was young?' Virgil Gazed at Scott intently.

This was interesting that he was showing an interest in his past. Scott dared to hope it was the beginning of something more. 'Very much like you are now, naturally in tune with people's emotions, you have an uncanny ability to read people and you had a lot of compassion for all living things. I remember you ran into my room when you were seven with a young crow that had fallen out of a nest. You wouldn't leave me alone until I made a makeshift splint for its wing! Grandpa would have gone mad if he found out you had nurtured it back to health he'd been trying to chase them off the crops all summer!' Scott laughed fondly at the memory. 'I helped you release it at four AM before anyone knew you had nursed it back to health. Virgil smiled. 'I knew I liked animals. We haven't always lived here then?

'No we're from Kansas. We grew up on our grandparent's farm that dad was meant to inherit before he became an astronaut and entrepreneur. We moved when I was 17.' Scott didn't mention after their mother's death, he couldn't bear to be the one to tell Virgil again. It was too painful.

Virgil looked at the image in his journal, only a year after this then. He made up his mind. If he was going to get better he needed to be honest. Looking at the obvious hurt on Scott's face he wanted to help him. He gently picked up the journal and crossed the room. 'If I show you something can you promise to keep it to yourself for now? I don't think I could cope with the pressure if everyone knew'. He looked at the floor and back at Scott. 'Sure' it was a confident and straightforward answer, one that Virgil knew he would adhere to. Virgil silently handed Scott the book. It took his breath away, he looked at Virgil in amazement. 'You remembered something didn't you? This is… This is me!'

Virgil nodded. 'I was looking at the picture there and it came back to me, a very small fragment. All I remember is you saying dad was home. I'd stayed out late painting.'

Scott traced the picture with his hand. It was a perfect likeness of him at sixteen.

'Yeah dad had been on a mission in space and was returning home, it was the first one he had been on that you were old enough to understand he was gone and not just to another state or country – actual space. You were so scared that he wouldn't come home'.

Virgil sat a little overwhelmed with the amount of information he had learned in such a small amount of time. Scott could see he was tired from the memory and didn't want to push him for fear of losing the little bit of Virgil that had come back.

'I'll let you eat your tea before it goes cold'. Scott stood to leave, Virgil quickly grabbed his arm. 'Thanks Scott.'

'What for?'

'For not pushing me and answering my questions, I know it must be hard for you'. He released his grip on Scott as quickly as he had grabbed him.

'Anytime Virg, you're my brother and I will always be here for you, we've got time'.

Virgil smiled as he left. He had a brother, one that loved him unconditionally. Maybe he didn't have to feel alone.