A/N: Thanks to all the kind reviews! :)

oOo

Chapter 2: Just a Little Spelunking Accident

Virgil screamed. It was a horrible, pain-filled sound, and Scott cried out with him in sympathy. That, and Virgil had grabbed his hair again, tearing some of it out this time from the feel of it. Then in seconds, it was over, and his brother was quiet. Quiet and still. "Stop, Gordon, stop!" Scott yelled, even though the damage had already been done.

"What?" Gordon asked immediately. "What happened?"

"Something shifted," Scott said, deciding to leave out the details for now.

"I'm right beside you," Gordon said. "I can back out now, and there should be a tunnel right to you. I'm only a meter or so away."

Scott thought about it. Whatever had happened to Virgil might be made worse if the Mole backed up. On the other hand, his brother was worryingly still (although alive—Scott could feel a pulse in his wrist), and time was probably of the essence now. They would have to risk it. "Ok, Gordon. But back up as slowly as you can."

The Mole started to move again. Scott could feel some of the rubble on his legs shift, causing pain to radiate up from his broken leg. A memory of his brother's scream caused him to grimly and silently bear it, though. In moments the Mole had backed away. Now Scott could feel some air flow, no doubt trickling in from the tunnel it had made and filtering through the rubble. Breathing became a whole lot easier. He gripped Virgil's hand tightly, although there was no response. Hang in there, Virg, he thought desperately.

"Ok, the Mole's out," Gordon said. "We're coming for you and Virgil now, Scott."

"Ok," Scott said, resisting the urge to add 'hurry.' They knew to hurry. Indeed, moments later he could see dancing flashlight beams through the rubble to his left.

Things were shifted, by hand this time, and then they were free. Well, mostly free. Scott's legs were still trapped, but Gordon and Alan pulled away the rubble separating him from the tunnel they had made. He could see three concerned faces peering at him. "Hi, big brother," Alan said. He had never been more glad to see his brother in his life.

"Virgil," Scott said, gesturing up with the hand that wasn't holding his brother's.

Alan turned his attention to where Brains and Gordon were already bending over Virgil. Scott craned his neck, but still couldn't see much. "How is he? Alan, how is he?"

"Whatever was on top of him was pushed off by the Mole," Alan said, turning back to Scott, looking pale. "He's alive. Unconscious." He gently began to disentangle Virgil's hand from Scott's hand and hair. Scott started to resist, caught himself, and lowered his arm to begin working at the debris that still covered his legs. Alan turned to this as well, and began to shift off the rubble.

With much sucking of breath, wincing, and whimpering, Scott endured having his legs uncovered. It turned out that most of what was covering them was his Hover Jet, twisted and damaged now. He didn't care. He turned his attention to where Gordon and Brains were lifting Virgil—also twisted and damaged, Scott realized, feeling a lump form in his throat. He did care about that. A lot. He loved all his brothers more than life, but Virgil was the one he felt the closest to, and he couldn't stand it if anything happened to him. Well, anything more than the hell he had already endured today, that was.

"Scott, Scott. Scott." Scott realized that Alan had been trying to get his attention, and turned his head to face his brother. "He'll be ok," Alan said, although Scott could see his own worry reflected in his brother's eyes. "Come on. You're going to have to work with me a little here."

With Alan's help, Scott managed to finish extricating himself from the rubble. Alan helped him onto a stretcher that had been placed in the tunnel. Looking up beyond his brother he could see the concerned faces of strangers. "Who?" he asked, before realizing that these were no doubt volunteers from the local contingent of rescue workers who had been the ones to finally call in International Rescue after the quake.

"You should not move him," one of them admonished Alan. "May have back or neck injury."

"We have to get out of here before the tunnel collapses," Scott defended his brother. "No time to be careful. My back and neck are fine." But he shot a worried glance at Virgil, who was on a stretcher being carried by Gordon and another of the local rescue workers. He was relieved to see that his brother had been fitted with a back and neck brace.

"Is not safe," the rescue worker muttered, reaching for the foot of the stretcher. Alan lifted the head, and together they carried Scott down the tunnel after Virgil. Within moments he was looking up at the blue, blue sky. For a moment he was startled. For some reason he was expecting it to be night, but of course that was silly. It had been less than two hours that they had been trapped down there, and it had been daylight when they went in. He smiled up at the sky despite himself; it was a sight he hadn't really thought he'd ever see again.

Scott raised his head (against the protests of the rescue worker) to see that they were being steered towards a waiting ambulance. "Wait," he said. "Wait a minute."

The worker gave him an odd look, but stopped. Gordon and the other aid worker stopped with Virgil as well, giving Scott a questioning look. Scott looked over at his brother, unconscious on the stretcher. He looked terrible, and Scott hated himself for what he was about to do. "Can you give us a minute?" he asked the rescue worker.

He gave him a very strange look, but then backed off with his friend. Gordon, Brains, and Alan clustered around. "What is it, Scott?" Alan asked.

"Look," Scott said. "If we go to a local hospital, how long do you think it'll take for them to realize who we are? Our secrecy would be destroyed. We can't compromise International Rescue that way."

"Virgil needs medical attention, Scott!" Alan protested. "So do you!"

Scott held up a hand. "I know that! I'm not saying we're not going to take him to a hospital!" He was horrified that they would even think that.

He got sudden support from an unexpected quarter. "Scott's…right," Virgil chimed in from his position on the ground behind Gordon and Brains. The hastily moved back to clear a path between the two stretchers.

Scott looked over at his brother, dismayed. Virgil regarded him through narrow eyes, squeezed mostly shut in response to pain, or the sudden daylight, or both. He had bruises, cuts, scrapes…his arm was obviously broken. He probably had internal injuries. "Virgil," Scott managed, not trusting his voice with more.

"You look terrible," Virgil commented, coughing and cringing in obvious pain.

"You yourself look a picture of health," Scott said dryly, and was rewarded with a slight smile. "Seriously, Virg. Are you gonna be ok if we take a little time to prepare?"

"Sure," Virgil said gamely, then closed his eyes and left the arguing to his brothers.

"You clearly have a plan," Gordon said.

"Not really," Scott admitted.

"Well, I do," said his wrist communicator.

"Father!" he exclaimed, startled. He hadn't been aware the link was live.

"I had John patch me in as soon as you reached the surface and the signal wasn't blocked," his father said. "I won't ask how you are, because that's obvious. But I'll tell you—and you too, Virgil—you have no idea how glad I am to see you boys!"

Scott smiled at the image of his father, and glanced over to see Virgil smiling slightly as well. "Me too, Father," he said. "What's your idea?"

"Get airborne, and I'll fill you in," his father said.

"Ok, father," Alan, Gordon, and Scott said together. Gordon beckoned the rescue workers back over, and indicated they pick the stretchers back up.

"Help us get them to Thunderbird 2," Gordon said.

"But we have very good hospitals!" one protested.

Brains held up a hand. "We're n-not saying you don't. But we have special facilities for our people. You understand…"

The rescue workers agreed protestingly. Clearly they did not understand, but they weren't actually willing to argue with International Rescue, and soon Scott and Virgil were loaded into Thunderbirds 2 and made comfortable. Gordon began to prepare for take-off. Alan and Brains left, Alan for Thunderbird 3, Brains for… "Hey!" Scott protested. "Who's going to fly Thunderbird 1?"

"Brains," Gordon answered, finishing the pre-flight checks.

"Does he know how to fly it?" Scott asked worriedly. He knew it was stupid, particularly giving the circumstances, to feel territorial about 'his' Thunderbird, but he found that he was.

"Theoretically," Brains said over the communicator.

"Theoret—" Scott began, before noticing Virgil wink at him. "Oh," he said lamely.

"Who does the repairs and the test flights?" Virgil asked. "He can fly it."

Scott relaxed and grinned at his brother. "Yeah." He had known that. He should have known that. He had seen Brains take Thunderbird 1 up before after doing major repairs. But he had probably only logged an hour or two at most. It was going to be a rough flight. At least if Brains banged it up in landing or something, he could fix it again. Scott tried to convince himself not to worry about it.

"International Rescue from Thunderbird 2," Gordon said moments later. "We're in the air. What's our destination, and what's the plan?"

"Ok," their father said. "The plan is simple: head to London. I'll contact Lady Penelope and have her rendezvous with you. She'll take Scott and Virgil to a hospital. The story is that they were spelunking and were trapped in a cave-in. No connection to International Rescue. Just the Tracy family having a bit of misfortune."

"That's good, Father," Scott said. "But what about our uniforms?" He looked down at his, which was torn, filthy, bloody, and shredded over his broken leg. Said leg was beginning to throb mercilessly, and he wished that they had taken the rescue workers up on some of their aid. A splint would be a godsend right now.

"I'll have Lady Penelope figure out something. Once you're in London, you two can change. I'm sorry, boys, I know that's not going to be fun."

Scott looked over at Virgil, who had his eyes closed again. "I don't know if Virgil's up for that, Father. His injuries are pretty severe."

"I can do it," Virgil breathed, not opening his eyes.

And so it was settled. Scott didn't like it. Gordon clearly didn't like it. He was sure his father felt the same way about it as he did, but it was of paramount importance to maintain their secrecy. If their technology fell into the wrong hands, any one of dozens of their gadgets could spell world-wide disaster. But it would mean delaying help for Virgil. He just hoped his brother was as tough as he was acting.

Within an hour it was set. Penelope had come through beautifully, as always. She had provided them with caving gear in their sizes, torn and worn just as if they had been injured wearing it. After they had changed into it (and Scott didn't even want to imagine how much it had hurt Virgil to change clothing—he himself had nearly passed out from the pain of his leg), they tore it out in the right places. It looked good. Now, they were loaded into FAB1, Lady Penelope casting worried glances from the front passenger seat. Scott was sitting uncomfortably behind her, trying to ignore the agony of his leg, which was bent awkwardly. Virgil, who had passed out again, was resting against him. He lay his head (which was also aching) gently on top of his brother's. "Not long now, Virg," he whispered.

Several hours later, Scott was in a hospital bed, leg set, head bandaged, and body full of the blessed relief of painkillers. His father, Gordon, and Alan were gathered around, and the doctor had just come in. "How's Virgil?" his father asked immediately.

"Your son is still in surgery, Mister Tracy," the doctor said. "He was badly injured…broken ribs, bruised kidney, perforated intestine. In addition to that he has a fractured humorous, dislocated shoulder, and sprained wrist."

"But he's…going to be ok?" Scott asked, thinking again of being trapped down there, of his brother's hand tangled in his hair. Virgil had to be ok; there was no other acceptable alternative.

The doctor smiled. "Yes, Mister Tracy. He'll be fine. They're repairing the intestine now. But he's going to have a long recovery."

"How's my other son?" his father asked, indicating Scott.

"He's gone for a triple, Mister Tracy: fractured femur, fibia, and tibula," the doctor said, looking over at Scott, who already knew this. "In addition he has a mild concussion. He'll be fine as well."

Scott smiled at him. "Thanks to you, doc."

He returned the smile with a cool, professional one. "What I don't understand is how you were able to sustain so much damage from a cave-in around here. I was always under the impression that the caves were shallow and pretty well-explored."

Scott shuddered theatrically. "Forgive me, Doc, but I really don't feel up to talking about it just now."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said hastily. "Of course you don't. I'll let you get some rest, and I'll have Doctor Lowry give you an update as soon as she's done with your brother." With that he left.

"They're suspicious," Scott said as soon as the doctor had left.

His father frowned with paternal concern. "You just let me worry about that, Scott," he said. "You worry about getting better."

"And Virgil," Scott said before he could stop himself.

"Virgil will be ok, you heard the doctor," his father told him firmly. "Now, we're going to go let you get some sleep. Everything will be ok."

"I want to know as soon as Virgil's out of surgery," Scott insisted.

"Of course," Alan chimed in. "I'll wake you myself." With that they left, no doubt hoping it would encourage him to get some rest.

Scott was exhausted, but it was a long time before he could sleep. He kept remembering the utter terror of being buried alive, the helplessness of not being able to save the people or himself and his brother. But most of all, he kept remembering Virgil's pain.

He was awakened some time later not by the promised Alan, but by his other baby brother. Gordon didn't so much wake him as stand over him staring thoughtfully until the pressure of the stare was enough to dislodge Scott from his fitful dreams. He twitched and opened his eyes, feeling groggy and disoriented. "Gordon?"

Gordon stepped closer and lightly rested his fingers on Scott's arm. "How are you doing?"

Scott could tell already that this was a question he was going to be hearing until he was thoroughly sick of it for weeks to come. "I'm ok," he said. "How's Virgil?"

Gordon sat down on the chair next to Scott's bed and rubbed a hand wearily through his hair. "He's out of surgery. He's in recovery now, and Father's with him. They only let one person in at a time, and Father won the coin toss."

Scott smiled a little at this. As if there was anyone else who would rate that first visit. "What did the doctors say?"

"His doctor—Doctor Lowry—said that he came through the surgery well. She said basically what that other one said…it'll be a slow recovery, but he'll be ok." Gordon fidgeted, and Scott's Big Brother Radar went off.

"What is it?" There was something Gordon wasn't telling him.

"It's…" Gordon swallowed. "It's not really the time…"

Scott reached out and patted Gordon on the arm. "What is it, Gordon?"

Gordon wasn't looking at him. "Well, it's just…when I was in the Mole digging you guys out…when you told me to stop…I did something to hurt Virgil, didn't I? I made things worse." He looked up now, meeting Scott's eyes with guilt-filled ones.

Scott sighed. "Ah, Gordon. Look, you did a great job, ok? We wouldn't be alive now if you hadn't." He thought again of Virgil's scream. Gordon may have heard that over the comm., so there was no reason to try to shelter him. The Tracys—even the baby ones, as Scott still tended to think of both Gordon and Alan, to their eternal annoyance—were tough and could handle things like this. "You hit the beam that was pinning him down. Yes, it hurt him, but it doesn't look like it did any major damage that wasn't already there, and it probably saved several minutes we would have spent trying to get it off him by hand."

Gordon swallowed. "I know. But if I'd just been a few inches off…"

Scott shook his brother's arm. "Hey. Stop it, ok? Virgil's going to be just fine."

"Ok, Scott," Gordon said, giving his brother a shaky smile. "Hey, thanks for doing the big brother thing."

Scott returned the smile. "That's what big brothers are for."

"I love you, Scott."

"You too, my little aquanaut. Now why don't you go check on Virg? Maybe they're letting him have other visitors, and I'd like a full report."