Ooooh, more lovely reviews! Thank you so much!

Now, I'm not sure if I've misinterpreted it, but there's a scene in EOS that really forms the basis for this chapter, and part of the cause of Scott's PTSD.

It's where he has to give the order to John to destroy TB5 if he can't shut EOS down. That would be awful enough - potentially the end of International Rescue. And, logically, it would be John's responsibility to do it, once he was safely back on TB3.

But the way John reacted to Alan asking what Scott had meant made me wonder - what if that order also had to be carried out if he was trapped again on TB5, with no chance of escape, or of Alan rescuing him?

Was that why he had to explain to Alan that *he* would have to destroy the station, instead of him, if he couldn't shut EOS down? With him still on it?

As I say, I may have read too much into it. I do tend to do that! But I couldn't think of any other reason why John would need to tell Alan to destroy TB5. Something that, from his reaction, I'm not sure Alan was even aware of.

Anyhoo, enough theorizing - on with this latest chapter. It's a bit longer than the others, since it features more of the backstory I've written for Scott to explain his PTSD. Again, I hope I've kept it true to both his character, and his established background. I hope you enjoy!

Crash 'n' Burn

Chapter Four - Past Regrets And Future Fears

Scott's first coherent awareness was that he was being held by a... bear. A strangely comforting... bear. One that wasn't trying to eat him, or even hurt him. Instead, it was talking to him. Very softly. Very gently.

"It's okay, Scooter, you're gonna be okay now. That's it, just easy now... it's okay, I've got you."

Through a pounding headache, Scott finally managed to place the voice that sought to soothe it.

Virgil? Yes, that was it! He was being held, and hugged, and comforted, by a Virgil Bear.

Why he needed that comfort still eluded him. All he knew right now was how good it felt. Good enough for a splutter of laughter to escape him, as his mind conjured up a truly priceless image.

"Virgil Bear!"

From the amusement in that Virgil Bear's voice, he'd enjoyed the joke too, if not the new nickname.

"Coming from you, that's a compliment. Now, drink some of this orange juice."

Thirsty enough to drink up the whole Pacific, Scott eagerly took the flask he'd been given - its contents causing him to splutter once more, and throw a pouting glare towards his brother.

"Aww, way to pay me back, Virg! Grandma's gravy tastes better than that!"

Unmoved, despite the smile that still tugged at his face, Virgil pushed it back again - gently explaining why a flask of ordinary orange juice now tasted more like rocket fuel.

"Your blood sugar's down through the floorboards, Scoots. Now, come on, Grizzly Bear... finish it up."

Yep, no doubt about it. Smother Brother in training was also a prize pain in the butt.

Pulling a face, both from paybacking nicknames and medicinal orange juice, Scott did as told. Every mouthful felt like he was trying to swallow a tub of syrup. But, he had to admit, it was working. And he was grateful enough for the relief it was bringing him to drain the whole flask without any more prompting.

The dull ache that had been thumping through his head started to fade. Full alertness started to return. With the good, though, came the bad. Memories of when his worst nightmare had become heartbreaking reality.

'John, if this thing can't be stopped, you know what has to be done.'

In an instant, all trace of relief left Scott's face. In that same moment, Virgil held him gently closer. Listened in quiet sympathy to words that couldn't start to convey the anguish beyond them.

"I - I gave an order today, Virgil, that no brother... no human being... should ever have to give."

Still held in that moment's memory, Scott pulled in a shaking breath and closed his eyes against it. Something more than instinct guided his hand, without the need for sight, into the comfort of another.

Holding him closer, Virgil sat quietly too - trying to imagine himself with his brother's responsibility. Sacrificing your life to save others was one thing. And yes, with the exception of their youngest, still fiercely protected brother, it was something they'd all agreed to. But giving the order to do so was quite another, and... no. No, there was no way he could do it.

Immeasurably grateful not to bear such an awful burden, his heart now broke for the one who did.

"I know we all agreed to it, Virg... and I know some day, I'll need to give Alan that choice too, but... God, Virgil, it doesn't make it any easier to live with."

Bowing his head, Scott then whispered the words that his brother had already sensed was coming.

"I - I don't know how I can face them, Virg. John, and Allie, I - I just can't face them. All this, it's... God, it's like Delta Fifteen, all over again."

And there it was. The reason that Virgil had already guessed had kept his brother paralysed into his seat. That fateful mission. Delta Fifteen, that had left two pilots dead, and his eldest brother damn close to being the third.

Frantic warnings to abort its first flight had been ignored, by those too arrogant, too convinced that *they* knew better, than to listen to some cocky young upstart.

And when that cocky young upstart had been proven so tragically right - well, they'd hung him out to dry like so much old laundry. No, of course the pride of their fleet hadn't malfunctioned. No, they hadn't pushed it through its trials too quickly. No, the idiot kid who'd been riding their wing to observe it had messed up.

Closing his eyes, Virgil sent a silent curse towards the cowards who'd wrecked his brother's career to save their own.

'Bastards.'

Even if he hadn't heard them, Scott could still sense the tension in the body that still cradled his own. Feeling his brother shift and fret against him was all Virgil needed to stop dwelling on the past. To turn his concerns away from those who'd never deserve them, to the brother who always would.

Now, as then, Scott had withdrawn into himself. To his surprise, the thought almost made Virgil smile. Yeah, just typically Scott, trying to handle this whole damn thing on his own, and... well, to hell with that.

"Would it help if I was there too?"

For such a simple solution, Scott was staring at him as if he'd just discovered the meaning of life. Then again, he wasn't exactly firing on all thrusters right now, and... yeah, time to give him a little bit of a boost.

"I know you had to give them that order on your own, Scott," he added through a gentle smile, pausing to give himself time to think through the words that now had so much riding upon them. "But you shouldn't face its fallout the same way. If it's a family thing, Scooter, we face it like one. Together."

Beyond the surprise and pure gratitude in his brother's eyes, Virgil could see something else now. Something that lifted a world of worry from his shoulders, as Scott managed to smile back at him. The same, returning courage and determination that made him nod. Lifted him, if shakily, back to his feet.

"Yeah, I guess we'd better get out of here, before that family sends out a search party."

An easy enough thing, of course - but not when your legs suddenly buckled beneath you. Caught in the strongest, safest of arms, Scott allowed them to close completely around him - gladly resting his head on Virgil's shoulder, and more grateful still for his typically wise advice.

"Come on, Scooter... let's get you out of here, and where you really need to be. Bed."

Yeah, Smother Brother in training meant business, all right. And Scott was too glad for it to argue. But then a more sobering thought made him stop. Glance uncertainly back at his brother.

"Virg..."

The reply came back before he had to say any more. And, as ever, it was just the one he needed.

"Tomorrow, Scott. We do all that tomorrow. You and me, together. Okay?"

Together. Such a simple word. But it had just made tomorrow for two exhausted brothers just that little bit easier to face.