Bit of a short chapter this time but it is two days early so I hope that makes up for it! Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews - they make my day!
baao xo
Disclaimer: nope, still don't own Thunderbirds
Chapter 4:
Virgil was sulking. He had discharged himself as quickly as he could from the hospital (which admittedly taken another half-an-hour) and was now walking the busy streets of New York, trying to find something to pass the time until he could check into a hotel. Checking his watch, he realised with a groan it was only half past 2 in the afternoon. Hotel check-ins weren't until at least 4 o'clock, so he couldn't even go sleep off his slight hangover.
"At least," Virgil thought to himself as he headed towards a nearby coffee shop overlooking Times Square, "the hangover isn't as bad as it could've been."
Ordering a coffee and settling down on one of the more comfortable and isolated armchairs by a window which overlooked the hustle and bustle of the city, he put in a call to his father to see what news there was about the current IR rescue.
"Virgil! Finally been discharged?" greeted his father, his smile slightly forced.
"Yeah, about half an hour ago." replied Virgil, frowning at Jeff "What's up? How's the... um..." Virgil quickly glanced around him to make sure he couldn't be overheard, "...mission?"
"Under control as far as I'm aware," said Jeff, running his hand through his hair distractedly "something's not right, though."
Virgil listened as his father briefly ran through the details of the rescue, then leant back in his chair, stretching his aching leg out in front of him with a wince.
"Enough of that though son, how are you feeling?" asked Jeff, taking his mind of the mysterious power station for a moment to focus on the son at hand.
"Just a few bruises really - my pride is wounded more than anything else." responded Virgil, a light-hearted tone to his voice.
"That's to be expected but I mean really Virgil, how is it that every time you go on a night out you end up in hospital, or worse?"
"What do you mean 'worse'?" demanded Virgil, a frown making its way only his usually relaxed features.
Jeff laughed before answering: "I haven't forgotten about the Mount Rushmore incident yet Virgil. The amount of paperwork I had to go through to get you off the hook then was outrageous."
"George Washington needed a moustache - I will not apologise for art." replied the middle-Tracy adamantly, but with the corners of his mouth turning up slightly on remembering the fiasco.
"Maybe you should consider apologising for damage to government property?" suggested Jeff, with a shrug that was more characteristic of his sons than he.
Virgil rolled his eyes at his father, but did not offer further comment.
"Anyway," supplied the elder of the two, "I need to get back to Alan. Something's really worrying him about this mission; I can't place what or why, though. Will you be okay there for another night?"
"Yeah, yeah dad, I'll be fine. Just keep me updated?"
"Sure thing, son. Why don't you look into this power station for us? Alan's got his hands full with the bizarre 'disappearing people', so if you could check out any useful information about the station, that would be great."
"Yeah, sounds good to me, and it'll kill the time. I'll be sure to check in with the others if I find anything. You should get back to Alan though Dad, before he accidentally breaks something from stress - you know how he gets." replied Virgil.
His father laughed in agreement before responding with a quick "F.A.B." and signing off, and Virgil was left alone in the coffee shop with just his thoughts for company. Considering his father's words about the unusualness of the current mission International Rescue were responding to, Virgil settled down to pass the time by researching the area. If he couldn't actually be physically on a rescue, there was no reason why he shouldn't help in other aspects. Taking a sip of his coffee, the middle Tracy settled down to work.
Apologies again for the length but the next chapter is longer!