Wow! Thanks so much for these reviews! I really appreciate them!

So, then, on with chapter two. Oh, for all those who had a slight touch of the wibblies over that cliffhanger... my apologies. I tend to do that.

*whistles innocently, and runs away from laptop before she's hit by salvos of flying bagels.*

Crash 'n' Burn

Chapter Two - Helpless

In the space of five seconds, Virgil Tracy felt as if he'd aged by the same number of decades. He'd tried through every one of them to get Scott to respond to him -

"Scott? Scott, it's Virgil, can you hear me? Scott!"

- all too aware that breaking those protocols had left him in the position they'd been designed to avoid. This grip on his brother's chair was the only means he had against falling to the floor below it.

And it was a long way down.

A wry smile tugged at his mouth as Virgil adjusted his grip to make it just a little bit tighter. Smother Brother would read him the riot act for this little stunt, for sure, and... oh, thank God.

Movement under his other hand brought a relief that made the height he was standing at even dizzier. To a groan that was music to his ears, Scott had started to stir. He was finally coming out of it. Still, no harm in helping him gently along. God knew, he'd need the comfort of a familiar voice.

"Scott? Hey, Scooter, it's okay, I'm here. You're gonna be okay now."

Wincing as he returned to full consciousness, Scott stirred once more against the grip on his shoulder. It was too firm to be the restraints on his seat. Wrong position too, and... whoa! It was... moving. Squeezing his shoulder, with the same urgency as the voice that rang again through his aching head.

"Easy, Scott, it's okay. Deep breaths for me now... slow and steady, that's it."

'...easy for you to say, Virg... you're not the one who's just gone ten rounds with Kayo...'

All a vital part of their training, of course, but... no, hang on a minute. That had been this morning. Something else had happened since then... something he just couldn't seem to get a grip on, and - yeah, that was starting to bug him almost as much as his brother's inescapable nagging.

"...come on, Scooter, open your eyes and look at me... the sooner I know you're okay, the sooner I can get you out of here."

Uh-oh. Smother Brother in training sounded worried. And where the hell was here? Only one way to find out, of course, and... jeez! Since when did opening his eyes take such effort?

Staring dazedly around him, Scott's eyes then narrowed back into a puzzled frown. Virgil looked as worried as he'd sounded, but... no, neither of them appeared to be hurt. There was nothing to suggest they were in any danger. And no, they weren't at a rescue site either. Instead, his brother was in jeans. His favourite shirt, that he'd bought him for his birthday, and -

- recognition of where they were, why Virgil didn't belong there, forced out an incredulous question.

"Virgil? What the hell are you doing here?"

Finding it impossible not to smile now, as relief rushed through him, Virgil patted his shoulder - keeping his voice as calm as it had to be, to lessen the impact of the memories it would bring back.

"Well, it's been one hell of a day, Scott. Just thought you'd appreciate the company."

Glancing downwards, Scott then met his eyes again - the disbelief in his own still questioning his brother's sanity.

"Up here?!"

As much as he wished it could stay there, Virgil felt his smile fade under a fresh sense of alarm. Scott was either pulling off the mother of brave faces, or, more likely, he'd blocked out its cause. The same defences he'd retreated behind, after the tragedy that had torn his old Air Force unit apart.

That had left his brother as the only survivor of an accident that should never have happened. A senseless tragedy, whose fault lay elsewhere, but that would haunt his brother's conscience for the rest of his life.

Post traumatic amnesia. A hell of a thing to deal with then, when you were just twenty four years old. Too young to challenge your senior officers - to survive the devastation of their self serving betrayal.

Even more so now, when you were a hundred feet off the ground.

The only comfort he had to hold onto, as tightly as this armrest, was that Scott still recognized him - the pain in his brother's voice conveying the tiniest part of the real suffering that lay behind it.

"Virg? I - I don't feel so good."

The frown on Virgil's face grew even deeper as he studied his brother's more closely. Damn. He didn't look so good either. Unnaturally pale, with a glassiness in his eyes that he didn't like one bit.

Along with a near certainty that Scott hadn't eaten all day either, this adrenalin crash had really hit him hard. The sooner he got him back to his room, into safer, more familiar surroundings, the happier he'd be.

"It's okay, Scott, you've just... had a real rough day. You just need to rest up now," he said at last, leaning forward to start helping Scott out of his seat, then freezing at the tone of his brother's voice.

"V - Virgil?"

It wasn't just confused now, or even scared. It held the same terror that was locked into Scott's eyes. Those perfect blue eyes, normally so full of life, and intelligence, and courage, but now filled with a panic that didn't belong there.

"Virgil? Virg, I - I can't move."