In Too Deep – Chapter Fourteen
(The Penultimate Chapter)
John's gaze was pulled from where he stared out at space, deep in thought, as one of the nearby consoles emitted five quick bleeps and then began spewing out paper. He hurried over, struggling to fold the reels of paper tumbling out faster then he could manage it, and began glancing over the finds.
After relaying Scott's call to his father, he'd continued with all his many tasks but he'd found that his mind was drifting and he was struggling to concentrate. Another cup of coffee didn't seem to help; in fact it just made him feel guilty that he was drinking coffee whilst his brothers were being shot at. Deep down, he knew he was just tired and that if he could've afforded the luxury of just an hour's sleep, it would have done him the world of good. He didn't even want to think about how long it'd been since he'd slept. Not that he was complaining, they were all in the same boat as far as rest was concerned but it was a big factor in his inability to concentrate. And, unlike on the ground, there was no one else on Thunderbird Five to rally him into action.
It was something that he'd learned to cope with over his years with International Rescue. There were times when rescues stretched over days, or came in quick succession, when sleep wasn't always available. It was something you had to tolerate and John had found that if he worked through the sleep barrier, energy normally returned.
Not this time though. There wasn't anything normal about this rescue.
Scanning over the information in his hands, he opened a channel to base, "Thunderbird Five to Base, come in please."
"Go ahead, Son, what is it?" John's monitor was replaced by a rather anxious looking picture of his father.
"Just to let you know that I've got the results of the background check on Annie Mansfield," John reported, still reading over the finds as he spoke. "Nothing major to report; her military files were classified, it seems she did a lot of work for the Special Operations Branch. Honorably discharged three years ago after an operation in Northern Ireland," John shrugged and pulled a face.
"Good," Jeff nodded and rubbed a hand along his chin, "I didn't doubt it after Penny suggested her but I'd rather we were sure." He paused, "Nothing from Scott yet?" the furrows on his forehead deepened.
"No," John shook his head, wishing he could somehow relieve the deep worry his father obviously felt, "I'm expecting him to call in at any moment though, Father," he added, attempting to provide some kind of optimism.
"Okay," the nod by means of reply was a disappointed one, despite John's best efforts. "Tin-Tin's readied Ladybird and Tracy One for flight. I'm going to ask her to pick your Grandmother up."
John understood why his father might need his own private jet too, but didn't comment or ask questions. He was about to speak again when the beeping of another system stopped him. He moved quickly to attend to the noise, hoping it was Scott.
"Is that Scott? Patch him through," it was evident Jeff was thinking along the same lines but John had to disappoint him again.
"No, sorry, Dad, but it's not Scott, it's the voice recognition program. I've got a match," John's words slowed as he took in what the system was telling him. He frowned, "Damn it!" he cursed, "I can't believe I didn't check that sooner!" he muttered to himself before looking up to meet his father's expectant gaze. "The guy from the recording and the chief fire marshal from the Research Center are one and the same; a guy called Foster from what I can make out."
"You'd better warn your brothers," Jeff's tone was curt, showing his displeasure. "Do it quietly though, John, they may be in the middle of something," he warned, bearing in mind their last situation report of shots being fired. "If his voice matches the one of the special agent on the recording, I think we can conclude that he ranks a little higher than 'fire chief'."
"You think he was in charge of this place?" John bit his bottom lip and thought before beginning to nod in agreement with his father's logic.
"It makes sense," Jeff replied, "the agent from the recording was obviously responsible for that facility." The words echoed in Jeff's mind, he'd listened to the conversation so many times in the hope that he might be able to pick out some kind of missing link.
"I'd better contact the guys. If this guy, Foster, is at the crash site, we might be in trouble," John offered him a brief but stern nod and closed down the channel, already making preparations to put in a discreet call to one of his brothers using their own secret Code Five.
XxxxX
Scott collapsed to his knees and skidded along the floor, coming to a halt alongside Virgil's head. His heart began to echo in his ears as his eyes took in the scene in front of him; two bodies collapsed together in a huddle, neither making any attempt to move.
Scott swallowed and reached out to Virgil's limp shoulders, manoeuvring round the dead weight on his brother's chest. He was ever aware that behind him, Gordon and Alan were huddling closer, eager for some kind of news.
"Virgil?" Scott's pupils were wide and frantic, darting about in the confines of his eye-sockets. His tone of voice was strained, portraying his strong sense of anxiety as he willed his brother to move, open his eyes, do something. Anything. "Virgil, wake up," he bit his lips together, taking Virgil's shoulders as best he could and giving the limp body in his hands a shake. The action didn't have the desired affect, mainly due to the fact that Luke's weight on Virgil's chest pinned him to the ground with little leeway.
"How is he?" Gordon asked, a deep frown of concern marring his features as he knelt down alongside Scott. "He's okay, isn't he?"
Scott swallowed back his revulsion at the mess of congealed soot and blood all over Virgil's face, together with the large gashes and bruised, swollen flesh. He offered Gordon what he hoped was a reassuring glance.
"Virgil, can you hear me?" he turned his attention back to his stricken brother and sighed in relief as Virgil's eyelids slowly parted to reveal sluggish brown eyes. "Thank God!" Scott exclaimed, a smile breaking out on his features. There couldn't have been a more beautiful sight, in his mind, than his brother looking back up to him. The smile soon slipped from his face as Virgil's gaze penetrated him and he realised that his brother wasn't mirroring his relief, instead there was a panic contained in Virgil's eyes that Scott rarely ever saw.
Virgil tried to be rational, afraid to hope that his brothers might have reached him at long last; he knew he couldn't take the disappointment if it was just Luke again. He struggled to divide his concentration between focusing and forcing air into his lungs, it was such an effort to breathe that his wheezing echoed in his ears.
"S-Scott?" he managed to pant out, as the dark colours combined to form a blurry image of his brother. He still wasn't one hundred percent sure why his brother was dressed in a black coat of some kind but he'd recognise those blue eyes anywhere. The more his vision cleared the more certain he became. "Can't…. b-b-breathe," he gasped, chest shuddering with every attempt to get oxygen into his battered body.
Scott gripped his shoulder, hoping to reassure him as he moved closer. The anxiety Virgil exuded was unmistakable but the words he uttered were indistinct. His voice was faint but Scott soon became acutely aware of what his brother was trying to tell him when he realised how hampered Virgil's breathing sounded. Driven into action, he broke Virgil's intense gaze to look up at Gordon. "Get this guy off him, he can't breathe!" he ordered, moving his hands to Luke's torso, he rolled the dead weight off Virgil and towards Gordon. Gordon was careful, supporting Luke's head but Scott's frustration at Virgil's injuries manifested itself with an angry shove, more concerned at allowing his brother to breathe again.
"Is he okay?" Gordon abandoned Luke, to shuffle closer to his prone brother and became aware of Alan hovering nearby, eager for reassurance of Virgil's condition.
Scott had returned to Virgil's side, his vision drawn to the mess of bruises on his brother's chest, where his shirt had been ripped away. Meeting Virgil's panicked gaze again, Scott tried to appear unruffled and in control, in the hope it would calm Virgil too. "Easy, Virg, just breathe, nice and slow."
Having seen the way Scott had manhandled Luke, Virgil's interests lay with his wounded rescuer rather than his inability to breathe and he turned his head towards Gordon. "Luke," his chest shuddered and he had to pause to let the tremor run through him before he attempted to go on, "Luke…" he tried again but his lungs betrayed him.
"It's okay, Virg," Gordon reached forward to grasp his other shoulder, "it's okay, he's gone. It's over," he tried to reassure him but Virgil began to shake his head. Pain erupted somewhere deep in his brain but the moan he let out wasn't just agony, it was frustration as well.
Gordon misunderstood, so Virgil turned to Scott, hoping he'd understand. "No…" he tried to swallow but it was a mistake, further depriving himself of the vital seconds he needed to drag air into his lungs.
"Try to calm down, Virgil, it's alright," Scott's tone was firm and his hand moved to brush against Virgil's grubby hair, doing his best to soothe his brother. "Just concentrate on breathing first, okay?" Virgil managed a nod and closed his eyes, trying to unite every ounce of energy he had left. "Alan," he heard Scott order, "go back to Thunderbird Two, get a stretcher and the med kit." Alan didn't respond to the order immediately, instead staring at the scene in front of him in a state of shock, until Scott's voice rose, "Go! Now!"
Virgil winced as the loud shout echoed in his pounding head. A sudden memory flared, "No!" he tried to sit up grasping Scott's arm and squeezing it tight. Partly to get his attention and partly to ride out the pain as he attempted to move. "Don't go…"
Scott shook his head, frowning at the uncharacteristic vulnerability. "We're not going anywhere, Virg," he forced through his lips, despite the way his heart fluttered at seeing his brother in such a weak, confused condition. Scott's attempt was comforting but it only frustrated Virgil further that neither of his brothers understood what he was trying to say.
Taking a deep breath, Virgil held it in the hope that it would ease the spasming in his chest. He rode out the fiery pain for as long as he could, before letting the breath back out in a controlled push through pursed lips. Taking a few unsteady breaths, he managed to start a rhythm going where he could control his breathing.
"No," he managed to say, still breathless but no longer wheezing. He squeezed Scott's forearm again, where he'd grasped it earlier. "Don't go," he breathed. He glanced across at a blurry blond figure behind Scott and hoped that it was Alan, meaning his youngest brother hadn't already rushed off. "Got to get out…" he began to gasp for breath again, anxious at the thought of what he was about to say, "bomb."
Scott's frown deepened causing craters to form where lines of worry had once appeared, and he leaned closer, "Bomb? Virgil, what 'bomb'? There's a bomb here?"
Virgil just nodded, devoid of all energy to speak but it was unnecessary. The alarm in his eyes told Scott more than words ever could.
"Damn it!" Scott cursed, looking up to his other brothers and glancing between Alan and Gordon. "We've got to get out of here." His tone was urgent and he was already taking Virgil's arm to wrap around his shoulder as he spoke, "Now!"
Virgil felt himself being lifted, his arm being pulled until it was draped around Scott's shoulders. There were more hands on his waist as Gordon and Alan helped him to stand, he resisted yielding to the pain coursing through his body and bit his lip when Scott's hand snaked round his waist to hold him up, rubbing against bruised skin. His knees buckled, too weak to handle his weight at first but Scott's grip increased in order to hold him. He cursed himself as he heard a grunt escape his lips, his head buried in his brother's shoulder against the agonising pain.
"Easy!" Scott tensed with the extra weight, "Alan, help me out here," he strained. Alan did his part, supporting Virgil as best he could until Scott got a better grip. "You alright there, Virg?" Scott asked, hoping to get Virgil's attention away from his shirt. He lowered his head so he could see Virgil's eyes and began to take a few steps forward but Virgil didn't budge.
Virgil turned back, searching the dark room until he caught sight of his new friend, unmoving on the floor. He defied every muscle in his neck to lift his head and face his older brother, meeting Scott's gaze in the knowledge that his brother wouldn't like what he was about to ask. "Scott, take him with us," he swallowed against the shudders in his chest, his lungs still adjusting to being able to breathe again.
Scott's eyes widened. He lowered his voice to match Virgil's tone and looked deep into his eyes. "What?" Scott was shocked into disbelief, "Virgil…" he shook his head, letting out a sigh that caused Virgil's grimy hair to sway.
"He saved…" Virgil stopped to take a breath again. "He saved my life, I promised him I'd…promised I'd take care of him." Scott tried to take a step towards the exit but Virgil resisted being pulled away. Scott was surprised that even in his weakened state he still had the will to stand his ground. Virgil met his gaze again, putting everything into conveying how much he needed Scott to do this for him, "Please," he lowered his tone, not wanting his younger brothers to hear him, and blinked in order to keep Scott's face in focus, "please, Scott. Don't make me beg." He didn't move until Scott gave a quick nod of the head.
Scott twisted back to see Alan was already checking on the man sprawled out on the floor, "Is he alive, Alan?" Alan gave a brief nod but didn't look too hopeful as he glanced at the pool of blood staining the wood. Scott followed his gaze but came to a decision, "We can't just leave him here. You two bring him, I'll take Virgil," he ordered. "Make it quick!" he added. Softening his tone, he placed his head alongside Virgil's, "You okay? Can you walk?"
"Scott!" Alan hissed, "We can't move him, he's being tracked and we don't know how sensitive their trackers are!"
Scott cursed himself for allowing his concern for Virgil to overtake his ability to consider every aspect of the situation. He raced to think of a solution that would satisfy Virgil and, at the same time, not look suspicious to anyone tracking Luke. He thought he heard Virgil express his surprise but by the time his brother's quiet voice floated up to his eardrums it was too faint to make out the words. "Alan!" a thought suddenly occurred, "Brains said that these trackers worked on a similar system to ours so presumably they have the same anti-dote."
"Yes," Gordon nodded. "Brains did say that but we don't have any…" he trailed off as Scott delved into the pocket of Parker's coat and withdrew the syringe he'd placed there earlier.
"Take it! It's dissolver," Scott explained, struggling to juggle Virgil's weight and the swaying movements with keeping the two of them on their feet. "I thought I might need it earlier, when we thought it was Virgil at the airport."
Alan gave a small smirk of admiration at Scott's foresight and set about the task. Virgil was fast becoming even more confused at the conversation but had neither the time nor energy to questions his brothers. Instead, he concentrated on keeping his eyes open and using Scott's sturdy frame to keep himself upright. He knew he just needed to hold on a bit longer now, just a few more minutes and he could let the darkness envelope him but until then he had to fight it. Just like he'd been fighting it for the infinite amount of time that had passed since the very first blow.
Scott meanwhile, turned back to the brother still hanging off his shoulder. "Okay," he blew out a breath of air, letting out some of the stress. "Can you walk?" he asked again.
Virgil's answer came in a shaky step forward as he leaned on Scott and they made their way to the door, "Thank you," he muttered as Scott checked that Alan and Gordon were behind them, carrying Luke between them.
"Don't thank me," Scott replied through gritted teeth, struggling under the exertion of supporting Virgil's weight. "You're the one explaining it to Dad."
Feeling Scott pick up the pace in his hurry to get out, Virgil bit down against the pain any movement, let alone this quick, was causing. By the time they reached the end of the corridor, Scott was practically dragging Virgil along and his head hung from his neck, limp and swaying with every movement as if his neck muscles had just given up.
The daylight hurt Virgil's eyes as they made it outside and he squeezed them shut against the pain it caused deep in his head. He wanted to turn round to check on his brothers and Luke but he couldn't move, he just didn't have the energy anymore and though the will was there, his muscles weren't responding to willpower anymore.
When Scott had put what he felt was a safe distance between themselves and the building he lowered Virgil to the ground, dropping to his hands and knees alongside him and panting to get his own breath back. As Virgil opened his eyes again, he recognised the familiar greens and concluded that Scott had taken shelter underneath Thunderbird Two's nose.
There was the sound of rushed footsteps approaching, then more panting as Luke was lowered to the ground and Alan and Gordon took a few moments to recover, "Jeez, Scott," Alan gasped, "did you have to come this far?"
"If I know the Secret Service, that bomb'll be big enough to take that whole building with it," Scott replied, swallowing in an effort to lubricate his dry throat and rubbing a hand over his face. He sat alongside Virgil, looking down at his brother and unable to stop himself staring at the damage to Virgil's wrists and chest. "You okay?" Scott wasn't sure he wanted an answer to that question, really, but it slipped out without much thought. "Not much longer now," he reached down to squeeze Virgil's hand in reassurance but stopped himself when the sight of Virgil's bandaged wrists made his nose crinkle in disgust.
Virgil didn't have the heart to tell Scott how much pain he was in or how bad he felt. He was just content in the knowledge that his brothers had arrived in time to save him and that his ordeal had come to an end. Almost.
"'M'Okay," he nodded even though his vision was blurry and unfocused. Making the mistake of blinking, he then struggled to open his eyes again. It was obvious he was going to pass out soon but he was determined that he'd at least make it into the sick bay first.
"Hmm," Alan grunted, turning to scowl at the building behind them, "that was a waste of energy," he shook his head, "so much for a…." he was cut off by a loud explosion as the building erupted into a fireball that licked the heavens.
Virgil jumped at the loud bang, startled, and instinctively Scott covered him with his own body, holding him close. They were far enough away not to be pelted with debris but pieces of wood from the barricaded windows fell to the ground a few metres away. There was a second explosion as the fireball claimed Scott's borrowed vehicle and Foster's truck. When Scott sat back, he turned to see Alan and Gordon in a similar pose, sheltering Luke's body. Alan too, sat back and stared at the remains of the building. The bricks had crumbled and the flames of the fire still reached high up into the sky. It looked more like an earthquake had struck than a bomb. Raising an eyebrow, Alan sat himself up on his elbows, "….bomb," he finished his earlier statement, still in awe of the damage.
"Yeah, and that was some bomb," Gordon was wide eyed.
"Alright," drawing his concerned gaze way from Virgil's drooping eyelids, Scott decided he'd seen enough. He gripped Virgil's elbows, pulling his brother to his feet and wrapping strong arms round him in order to support him. He knew it was essential that Virgil got medical treatment and soon. His brother wasn't half as 'okay' as he'd have had them believe – anyone could see that. The movement spurred Virgil into opening his eyes. He didn't want his brothers to know how weak and unsteady he felt, not yet. "Let's get inside. Al, get the door."
Obeying, Alan stood up and walked over to the concealed controls, operating the door that would lead them straight into the pod. The internal lights flickered on, bathing the interior with a warm glow and Gordon and Alan struggled, working together to manoeuvre Luke's limp body through the one-man door. Scott watched them as they disappeared inside the pod before following with Virgil, increasingly worried about his brother's lack of exchange and the way Virgil seemed so flaccid against him.
As Scott turned to close the door, he left Virgil leaning against the side of the pod. A brief respite to regain some vital energy but it was taking all Virgil's power to stay standing. His legs shook and the metal was cold against his clammy skin. He found himself looking around, desperate for something to focus on in order to keep his eyes from drooping any further. His blurry vision, obscured by heavy eyelids, rested on the Mole. It sat in the centre of the pod, charred from the explosion at the research centre, a little askew on its undercarriage. He felt a shudder run through him, half expecting one of his captors to appear.
Scott returned and began to wind his arm round Virgil's waist again but the younger man flinched away with such force that he nearly collapsed. Scott caught him, frowning at the jittery behaviour, until he realised the focus of his brother's gaze. "It's okay," he whispered in encouragement, not sure what else to say or do, as Virgil sagged against him. He couldn't be sure, at this time, why his brother needed the reassurance but he was more than willing to oblige in providing it, if it helped Virgil in any way.
Sensing that Virgil was approaching his pain threshold, both emotionally and physically, and also allowing him to salvage some pride, Scott called out ahead of them to where Gordon and Alan were waiting at the lift. "Go up ahead of us," he ordered. Virgil began to slip from his grip and he was encouraged to add, "And send a stretcher back down."
"No," Virgil was determined he wouldn't need it and took a step forward, still shaking but forcing Scott to move too. "I can make it." He couldn't see further than the end of his nose without taking at least fifteen minutes to focus his vision and he felt weak, so weak that his legs didn't feel his own. Not to mention the fact that every time he blinked, what seemed like a few seconds to him was actually a lot longer in the real world.
"Virg…" Scott was unsure, he didn't like the way Virgil's knees kept buckling or the frequency with which his eyelids were drooping, lower and lower. One look at his brother though, a real look, and he could see how important it was to Virgil that he did this himself.
"I've been humiliated enough, Scott," Virgil's reply was small but his eyes were determined, even if they were also a little unfocused. "Let me do this," there was an element of exhaustion in his tone and Scott didn't have the heart to deny the request.
He hesitated and then turned back to Alan as the lift arrived, "Scrap that, we'll manage. Go check him out, we'll be up in a minute," he lowered his head, directing them to take Luke.
Alan and Gordon both nodded their assent and moved Luke into the lift, disappearing from sight but not without a few concerned glances in Scott's direction. Scott was grateful for the few minutes alone with Virgil as they took the first few faltering steps across the pod floor, slow but steady.
Virgil stumbled allowing a painful grunt to sneak passed his tightly sealed lips. His limbs no longer obeyed him and it was only thanks to Scott that he didn't fall. Half embarrassed, half defeated Virgil allowed Scott to take his weight for a few minutes, holding him upright. Pain reared its ugly head once more and Virgil gripped the shirt on Scott's back, taking fistfuls at a time in order to ride out the agony and humiliation of this feeling of frailty. As Scott began to respond to the semi-embrace, Virgil felt the protection and shelter of a hold he never thought he'd experience again and closed his eyes, fighting against the onslaught of emotions that were congealing in his chest. Clinging to Scott as if his life depended on it, he pulled his brother closer, burying his own head into Scott's strong shoulders and trying to block out the rest of the world.
Scott frowned harder, a little in surprise at the sudden closeness, a little in discomfort as Virgil's grip became so hard that it dug through his shirt and into his back. He returned the hold but when he felt Virgil tremble and shudder against him, he lowered his mouth to his brother's ear. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, concerned that now they were alone, the true toll of Virgil's experience was beginning to show.
"I'll be alright," Virgil mumbled, between muffled moans of pain and unsystematic shuddering. "Just give me a minute, huh?"
"It's okay," Scott whispered, his concern growing by the second, "it's over now." For a long few moments, the supportive hold was more than just a steadying influence on Virgil's battered body, it conveyed a relief that they'd made it and a strong faith that in the safety of their family, everything would be all right now. Virgil tried with desperate accuracy to burn the moment into his memory; the feeling of safety and security, the smell of Scott's aftershave mingled with the smoke that clung to his uniform and the sounds of his older brother's steady breathing against his own haggard attempts.
Scott was prepared to give Virgil some time and just held him close, as tightly as he dared, waiting for the younger man to withdraw first. Sure enough, after a few more seconds, Virgil took two or three deep breaths and let them out slowly, before extracting himself from Scott's arms. "I'm okay," he muttered, trying more to convince himself than Scott, "I'm okay."
Scott waited for Virgil to look at him, his concern reaching new heights as he realised just how pale his brother's features were in the cold, harsh, artificial light of the pod. "You're going to be fine," he assured Virgil, trying to hide his own distress at his brother's alarming conduct. His attention was drawn by the red edges around Virgil's eyes and he found himself adding, "You're safe now, I promise."
Virgil nodded his understanding and then swallowed hard, "I'm sorry," he shook his head when Scott only smiled back at him, untainted relief sparkling in his eyes.
"Come on," Scott moved his arm so as instead of being face to face, they now stood side by side. "Let's get you checked out," he took a step forward, forcing Virgil to move too, and began rubbing the top of his arm in a small gesture of reassurance.
The truth was that Virgil's injuries were frightening in themselves but his behaviour was terrifying. The man that Scott was guiding towards the sick bay with words of support and a comforting arm was weak, exhausted and afraid. Not the man Scott recognised as his brother and certainly not the man that had left Tracy Island bound for Wales behind the controls of his precious Thunderbird. Virgil was frail, about as far removed as possible from the strong, brave, resilient brother Scott knew. That sudden change in his demeanour, Scott realised, was more frightening than the vast array of obvious injuries and he prayed to God that Virgil would snap out of it. Soon.
"Okay, it's just me and you now," Scott kept his tone soft as they continued the short journey, "how bad is it?"
Virgil sniffed and tried not to laugh, he should've known better than to think he could fool Scott. If felt good that there was no longer any pretence, no longer any need to look over his shoulder all the time; he could speak freely, honestly, and not have to worry about what he was saying. "Bad," he muttered, not even trying to hide it. "Can't keep my eyes open much longer, took a hit to the head and I think I've cracked a few ribs or something," he winced at the thought; ribs were always the worst. "I'm so thirsty," he swallowed, grimacing at his dry throat, "my chest's tight too, can't breathe properly," he tried to take a deep breath, wheezing and shuddering as if to prove the point.
"Okay, take it easy," Scott knew what he was saying and was beginning to regret allowing his brother to walk. He watched Virgil carefully, lending more help where he could as they made their way.
As they reached the lift and the doors opened, Scott was relieved to see a bottle of water on the floor. As he pulled Virgil inside, he picked up the bottle and uncapped it. Ever thankful for his Alan and Gordon's foresight, a smile graced his features for a few seconds.
"Here," he turned to Virgil as he set the carriage moving, "drink some of this."
Virgil held his hands out for the bottle, his eyes sparkling in relief and longing to feel the cool sensation against his dry, raspy throat. His hands shook as he took the bottle from his brother and any attempt to guide it to his mouth became futile. He felt a mix of relief and embarrassment as Scott placed his own hands around Virgil's and steered the bottle towards Virgil's lips.
Scott watched, swallowing back his repulsion at his brother's condition and trying hard to ignore the way his heart tensed at this desperation Virgil seemed to be riddled with.
"Take it easy, Virg," he said softly, trying to pull the bottle away. Virgil grimaced as the cool sensation was withdrawn and tried to override Scott's hold on the bottle to bring it back up to his lips but he was too weak. Scott's tight hold remained as he raised the bottle again in a controlled motion, encouraging his brother to take moderate sips.
It seemed to take forever to reach the sick bay, and as they approached Scott could already hear Alan's voice.
"I don't see why," the youngest brother could be heard to say, "for all we know, he's the reason Virgil's in such a state! He doesn't deserve our help."
"Al, you saw how Virgil reacted," Gordon was replying, trying to calm Alan and at the same time, the situation, "and you saw the way we found them; he was trying to protect Virgil."
Scott could only just make the conversation out and hoped that Virgil was too engrossed in concentrating on walking, to be taking any notice; the younger man certainly didn't seem to be reacting in any way. When they finally arrived, the place was already a buzz of activity, with Alan and Gordon assessing Luke's condition. They had the grace to cease their conversation in Virgil's presence.
As soon as they stepped inside, Virgil brushed Scott off with sudden and newfound strength. "Luke…" his voice was barely a whisper as he tried to pull away from Scott, in order to step closer to his friend.
"Virgil…" Scott tried to steer him towards the nearest free bed but his younger brother just shrugged him off, in favour of heading straight over to Luke's bedside. "Virgil," Scott took a firmer grip, "Come on, we need to look you over."
"I'm fine," Virgil muttered, coming to stand by where Alan and Gordon worked feverously. "Leave me alone, Scott," he dismissed his elder brother's support, looking up to Gordon and Alan, who were exchanging technical jargon. "How is he?"
Gordon and Alan exchanged glances before Gordon stopped in his work to explain. Virgil stared down at his unconscious friend, only half listening to his aquanaut brother. "He's been shot, it's not looking good. We're trying to control the bleeding but it's too much; I think the bullet must've nicked something major, there's no exit wound. I'm sorry, Virgil… his chances aren't good. We're doing our best, but…" he promised, watching Virgil take the few remaining steps to be right at the bedside. Gordon was taken aback by Virgil's traumatised expression and looked across his brother's shoulders to Scott for some back-up.
"Virg…" Scott began, stepping forward to place a hand on his brother's back.
"No, he has to make it; he saved me…helped me...," Virgil pushed his older brother away again. "He's the only reason I'm alive, he can't die! Luke?" he placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, hoping to rouse him. "Has he regained consciousness?" he turned to Alan who shook his head with a great deal of reluctance. "Not at all?"
"Virgil," Gordon stepped forward, "you're hurt; let Scott look you over, we'll take good care of Luke, I promise." He looked to Scott, concern and distress contained in his eyes at the sight unfolding as Virgil began to disintegrate in front of him.
"Luke?" Virgil ignored him to give Luke's shoulder a firmer shake. "Wake up."
Scott looked away, unable to watch his brother in such a desperate, heart wrenching plea. He swallowed back his own distress as he felt the pressure build in the form of Alan's and Gordon's glares, both of them shaken and stunned at Virgil's desolation.
"Virgil, please," Scott found his voice and stepped forward, taking Virgil by the shoulders. "You need help…"
"He needs help!" Virgil retorted, gesturing to where Luke was laid with an angry, painful, shake of the head.
"And he's getting it, Virgil," Alan did his part. "You know you're not helping him right now so why don't you go with…"
He was cut off as Luke moved his head on the pillow and then let out a gentle sigh.
"Luke?" Virgil was at his side, Scott's anxious exchange with Gordon and Alan passing high above his head. "Hey," Virgil smiled down, grimacing when the action pulled on abused muscles. Luke forced his eyes open. "You're going to be okay," Virgil leaned closer, watching Luke screw his face up in pain and struggle to focus his bleary vision. "He's going to be okay," he smiled up at Scott, who was looking less than hopeful, "he has to be." The three remaining brothers traded disturbed expressions at the blind faith Virgil exuded in that statement.
"B-Ben?" Luke swivelled his head in the direction of Virgil's voice. "You're here," Luke's pale face lit up in delight but Virgil's joy at seeing Luke awake turned to despondency, the expression dropping from his face like snow melting from rooftops in the heat of the sun.
He hesitated, his bottom lip trembling, "No," he swallowed back his grief. "It's me, it's Virgil," he tried to comfort his friend. Luke moved his hand to one side of the bed covers, palm up, and Virgil accepted the gesture, taking it in his own and running a thumb over his knuckle. "It's okay, now," he soothed, fighting hard against his trembling chest.
Scott watched the interaction, taking in every movement with a bizarre mixture of surprise, apprehension and unease. Feeling his younger brothers' increasing discomfort at witnessing the intimate moment, he swallowed and attempted to step forward. He couldn't bring himself to move though.
"Lisa…." Luke heaved, forcing Virgil to lean closer in order to hear and further stretching his battered chest. "I love her…"
"I know you do," Virgil nodded, gulping against the tears that he could feel burning in his eyes.
"Tell h… her," Luke's eyes closed of their own accord.
"You can tell her yourself," Virgil tried to smile in assurance. "Just hold on a bit longer, Luke. It won't be long now, I promise," he squeezed his friend's hand with gentle reassuring pressure. "We've come so far, you can't just give up," he pleaded, "not now. We're so close." Luke didn't open his eyes again and Virgil began to shake his arm, "Luke? Luke, wake up!"
"Hmm," Luke managed to open his eyes but let them slip shut again, unable to keep them open. "You're a good man, Virgil."
"That sounds like goodbye. Don't give up," Virgil shook his head and felt a knot form in his stomach, rising quickly to the back of his throat. "We're over the worst of it now, it's almost over. Luke…" he tried to control the emotion that was causing him to shake, "please… please don't give up," he begged.
Virgil took a few moments to gather himself whilst Luke smiled contentedly and allowed his eyes to close fully.
Luke mumbled something, blissful confusion reigning. Virgil bit his lips together, fighting tears that were already brimming in his eyes but couldn't find his voice to speak. In those few moments, he could see no-one else in the room but the man laid before him. He settled for just returning the pressure against his hand, only for Luke's grip to slacken. "Luke?" Virgil asked, fear beginning to rise within him. "Luke?" his voice rose, as did the panic contained within it. "Luke, wake up! Wake up!" he began shaking his friend's shoulders in a frenzied, frantic attempt to revive him. Alarms began to sound and Alan and Gordon took a simultaneous step forward.
"Pressure's dropping…" Gordon reported, "… oh God."
The alarms continued to wail, driving the two younger brothers into action but Virgil remained close to Luke. "No," he shook his head, emphatically ignoring the tears that were beginning to wander down his cheeks. "No, he can't, this can't be happening! It can't!"
Scott stepped forward, feeling now was an appropriate time to pull Virgil away, "Come on, Virgil, come away," he urged.
"No!" Virgil tried to push Scott's arms away. "Don't do this, Luke!" he shuddered as he felt Scott's strong arms embrace him from behind, pulling him from the scene. "Please, no," he muttered, only semi-resisting as Scott pulled him back.
"Let them work, Virgil," Scott said in a soft reassuring tone. "Give them some space."
"No," Virgil shook his head, watching in horror as Gordon began pounding on Luke's chest with brutal power. "We've got to do something, Scott," he heard himself say, turning to look straight into his elder brother's eyes. "Help him… please…" he beseeched his only older brother with a helplessness Scott hadn't seen in him for many years. "He saved me! He saved my life, Scott … do something!" he begged with absolute faith that his big brother could right all the wrongs.
Hearing the shrill sound of the defibrillator powering up, Scott wound an arm around Virgil's shoulders, holding him firmly and leading him away from the scene. "They're doing everything they can, Virgil," Scott assured him in a positive tone, "Come on, you don't need to see this."
In a state of shock and feeling a sudden lack of any sensation, Virgil could do nothing but allow Scott to lead him across to the opposing bed. "I…I ….I promised him," Virgil found himself saying, nausea rising despite the fact there was nothing left to come up. "I promised that he'd… I promised…"
"Shh," Scott tried to calm him down, noting the sudden change in ferocity of Virgil's breathing. "Sit down," he pushed Virgil gently against the free bed and the younger brother took a seat, feeling numb and disconnected from what was happening. "Second thoughts, I think you should lie down," Scott instructed, moving the pillows on the bed.
"He can't die, Scott," Virgil replied in a daze, not complying with Scott's order, probably not even hearing it. "He can't," he dropped his head, feeling his body shake as he finally let the tears fall without restriction and his shoulders heaved. He rocked forward until his head leant against Scott's chest. "If it hadn't been for him, I'd be dead. He's the only … the only reason I'm still here. It should have been me," he cried. "It should have been me," he repeated as he rocked.
Not sure how to respond to Virgil's apparent emotional collapse, Scott placed a hand on his brother's back, rubbing the nape of his neck hoping to provide some small comfort. "Don't say that," he said, letting his own head drop, burying his face in his brother's thick, smoky hair. "Don't ever say that." He closed his eyes against the continuous discharge of the defibrillator in the background and the subsequent tremors that, like an earthquake, ran through Virgil's whole body every time the machine released a charge.
"The bullet was meant for me," Virgil told his eldest brother, looking up at him and causing Scott's arm to fall back to his side. "I… I promised him I'd take care of him. I let him down."
"You let no-one down," Scott's tone was adamant, "you hear me?" he forced his eyes to become clearer, blinking back the effect that seeing Virgil so distraught was having on him. "Now, I promised Dad I'd make sure you were okay, so I need you to lie back and let us take care of you."
"But Luke…" Virgil protested.
"Is being looked after," Scott placed a firm pressure on his shoulder, encouraging him to lie back on the bed. Virgil resisted at first, turning to look across at where Luke was being treated. "Don't put yourself through this, Virgil. You've been through enough already," Scott murmured, increasing the pressure he was placing on Virgil's shoulder. Finally, exhaustion and despair merged to form compliance and Virgil allowed Scott to aid him in lying down.
Seeing Scott's success in checking Virgil out, Alan looked up from where he and Gordon were tending to Luke, moving to pull the partition across and hiding their work from Scott and Virgil. To Scott, the action spoke volumes; it told him everything he needed to know without saying a word.
Virgil tried to twist his head so as he could see Gordon and Alan but Scott stepped in the way on purpose, obscuring his view and attaching leads to Virgil's chest. His eyes flickered to the observation screen as it came to life and the leads began feeding back the data they were collecting. "How's the breathing feel?"
"Bit rough, hard going at times," Virgil was distracted, his eyes still wandered to the curtain behind which his two younger brothers worked, "got a lung full of smoke though." He felt Scott's hand grasp his forearm, in an attempt to get his attention. When that failed, Scott reached down to Virgil's head and encouraged his brother to look at him
"Concentrate on looking after yourself." Placing an oxygen mask across his brother's nose and mouth, Scott began fiddling to set the rate, "Here, this'll help you breathe easier."
Virgil moved his hand up and pulled the mask off, he waited for Scott to replace it but instead the action had earned him a glare of disapproval from Alan as the young blond materialised beside Virgil's bed, "You need to keep it on, Virg." Any other time, Alan would have delighted in telling his older brother what to do but right now, the constant frown of apprehension was a big indication that he was too concerned with Virgil's health to revel in the role reversal.
Scott eyed Alan's sudden appearance with a sinking feeling in his gut; if Gordon could spare an extra pair of hands, Luke's prognosis couldn't be good.
Virgil abandoned his struggle to remove the mask again when Scott held his forearm down before he'd even moved. He knew he was wasting vital energy in fighting his brothers. Energy that he needed to continue his hold on the thin thread that remained between him and dark blissful unconsciousness. "How is he?" he asked, trying to catch Alan's gaze and causing the mask to fog. "Tell me he's alive," Virgil pleaded. There was an ominous pause.
Alan avoided answering the question, too unnerved by Virgil's desperate loyalty to Luke, and caught Scott's gaze for a few seconds, indicating that there wasn't much they could do for Virgil's new friend. Virgil's constant concern, however, told Scott that his closest brother wasn't ready to hear that just yet.
"He's in good hands, Virg," as if to confuse Virgil more, the reply came from Scott, before Alan had a chance to answer. Digesting the words seemed to take forever in Virgil's confused mind and Alan took the opportunity to tilt his brother's head back with firm hands and check his pupil responses. Virgil flinched at the bright lights; turning away and groaning as white spots appeared in his vision and everything blurred. Before he'd managed to correct his eyesight, his little brother had taken him by surprise, pinning him down and flashing the light in his eyes for a second time. Virgil had neither the vitality nor the enthusiasm to resist any more.
"Did you hit your head, Virgil?" Alan was asking, "Were you knocked out?"
Virgil struggled to open his eyes after being blinded by the bright light but could hear his youngest brother's voice calling to him and turned towards it. "Tell me," he continued, not prepared to surrender to his brothers' assessment or the darkness that was clawing at the edges of his consciousness, until he was satisfied that he'd kept his promise.
Above him, Scott's and Alan's eyes met, conveying a deep sense of unease at the state of their brother. "He said earlier that he hit his head," Scott provided, "he thought he might have cracked a few ribs and that he was thirsty, I think he's been bleeding pretty heavily." Alan followed Scott's eyes to the reddened bandages covering Virgil's wrists and neck.
"Yeah, that'd explain a few things," Alan nodded to the screen showing Virgil's vital signs but made no effort to vocalise the specifics. He knew Virgil had the same training he did and didn't want to alarm or panic his brother further then Virgil already was. Scott glanced up to the flashing figures on the screen, realising what his youngest brother was insinuating. He moved to take Virgil's feet, removing his boots and tossing them aside, then raising his legs onto a folded blanket.
"Talk to us, Virg," Scott called out, "how are you feeling?"
"Cold," Virgil shuddered, trying to flex his fingers and toes where he felt it the most.
Scott suddenly appeared alongside him, a hand in his hair as he leant down to Virgil's face. "What was that?" he asked, straining to hear through the muffling of the oxygen mask.
"Cold," Virgil repeated. Trying to speak a little louder only succeeded resulting in pain and even more difficulty in taking successful breaths. He began to cough with such vigour that his body convulsed, lifting his head and shoulders off the mattress.
"Easy," Scott placed a firm hand on his shoulders, holding him down and increasing the flow of oxygen through the mask. "Try to relax," Scott was advising as he moved his hands to either side of Virgil's head, holding him steady. Virgil hated the feeling of being held down and tried to shrug his brother off, but Scott held firm, "Just try to keep still. You keep moving your head around like that and you're just going to make that neck wound even worse." Scott looked up to Alan, "Get him a blanket, Al, he's cold," he ordered. "We need to stop him from moving, pass me a cervical collar up here too, will you?"
Virgil knew what that meant and liked the idea of the restricting plastic even less than Scott's firm hold on his head. Out of instinct he tried to shake his head but he couldn't, "Scott, no," he breathed, "I'll stay still," he stopped for another breath, "promise."
Scott relented as Alan passed him the bright orange plastic contraption, "Okay, but it stays here," he put it to one side, leaving Virgil with the unspoken understanding that it wasn't out of the question yet. He leaned further over Virgil, so as they were eye to eye. Virgil's confusion grew when his brother appeared above him, apparently upside down and he knitted his brow together, moving his head in an effort to correct the anomaly. "Stay still, remember?" Scott's grip firmed up around his head and Virgil screwed his face up, uncomfortable at the constraint. "Virgil, look at me," Scott could see his attention was fading, "do you know how long these wounds have been bleeding?" he tried to keep his brother talking.
Virgil breathed out, blinking heavily again as he tried to comprehend what Scott was asking him. "Lots…" he tried to clear his throat, "lots of blood," he managed to wheeze out. "Kept bleeding, Luke tried to stop it…" his eyes were opening and closing now and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He could feel Alan's warm hands on his arm, it was almost therapeutic. He let his eyelids block out the bright lights of Two's sickbay. "Tell me he's alive, please, I need to know."
"Virgil, I need you to make a fist with your left hand," Alan's voice filtered through to his brain but he couldn't face opening his eyes and just acquiesced to the request by moving his fingers. He groaned as pain shot up his arm and the throbbing beneath the bandages on his wrists turned into a burning sensation, pulling at the skin. "No, Virgil, your left hand," the concern in Alan's voice was overpowering as he rubbed on the correct limb, "that's this one." Virgil frowned and relaxed his grip, tensing the other hand instead and causing a similar burning sensation under the bandages there. "That's great," Alan tapped on the correct forearm where Virgil could already feel the cooling sensation of the alcohol solution. Above the patient Scott was on the receiving end of Alan's apprehension as they both registered the struggle Virgil was encountering with his coordination.
"Sharp scratch coming, Virg," Alan's words hadn't registered before he felt the sharp pressure against his arm. His senses were telling him that the needle must be at least three inches thick but in reality he knew it was only a mere fraction of that.
The exclamations and hurried conversation that followed were a confused blur for Virgil and he gave up trying to make sense of what was happening to him. As he felt cold hands brushing against his skin, he realised that someone was cutting away the remnants of his uniform with even colder scissors. Making the most of a moment's reprieve from the cold metal against his skin, he took in a breath, unprepared for the probing, cold hands that placed firm force against his bruised and swollen chest. The groan escaped his lips before he could stop it and though he attempted to roll away, it was no use. The pain only increased until the edges of his blurry vision became dark and sinister. "I'm sorry, Virg, I know it's sore, but we have to check you over," he heard a voice tell him, distorted to the point that he was unsure whether it was Scott or Alan.
In that moment, the pain caused him to lower his guard and everything he'd been fighting devoured him within seconds. No more pain. No more suffering. No more reality. Only darkness.
XxxxX
John's finger tapped against his desk in a hurried rhythm, it had been nearly twenty five minutes since Alan had called him and Scott still hadn't called in. He glanced at his watch, anxious for news on Virgil's condition and aggravated that no one had seen fit to contact him yet. He glanced at his watch, make that twenty six minutes.
"Thunder…."
"Scott, finally! How is he? Is he okay? Can I talk to him?" John's frown was deep and his barrage of questions spoke volumes of his concern. Scott's image appeared in front of him, sat in the pilot's chair of Thunderbird Two and his heart sunk to his boots at the sight, many of his questions already answered. "How bad is it?"
"It could've been worse," Scott swallowed. He understood John's urgency and cut straight to the chase. "He's lost a lot of blood, Alan and Gordon are trying to get his pressure back up but he's all over the place, John." Scott ran a hand over his pale, tired features and looked deep in to John's eyes, "They really did a number on him; he's a mess, I need you to get the coordinates of the nearest hospital."
John nodded, biting his bottom lip in an unconscious sign of how worried he was. "He won't make it back to Brains?" the more that was revealed, the more John's concern reached new heights.
"We can't risk it, he's not stable enough," Scott replied, flicking switches to power up Thunderbird Two as he spoke.
"Okay, Dad and I talked about this, he's arranged for a friend of Lady Penelope's to take care of Virgil," John turned away from the screen for a few seconds and then returned. "You need to land at the co-ordinates I've sent you, I'll have Penny meet you and she'll take care of things from there. Tell Gordon to take Thunderbird Two to Foxleyheath." There was never any question that Scott would stay.
"A friend of Penelope's?" Scott screwed his face up, aghast at the idea. "This isn't a little cut that needs a few stitches! He's got slash wounds on his neck and wrists, not to mention the beating he's taken or the head injury!" the anger Scott felt at the idea of his brother not getting the best treatment available came out of nowhere and was probably also an outlet for all his pent up frustrations and fears, "I'm taking him to a hospital. He needs a doctor, John!"
"She is a doctor!" John fired back. He knew Scott's rage wasn't directed at him but it felt that way on the receiving end of the tirade and he couldn't help but snap back; his older brother didn't have the monopoly on worrying. "Look, she's a good friend of Penelope's, we can trust her not to ask any questions and if you hurry up and do what I told you then she won't have a clue about any links to International Rescue. I already ran a check on her and she's clean." He stopped to gauge Scott's reaction and then let out a haggard sigh, "Look, Scott, I don't like the idea either but we don't have a choice. She's got the knowledge and she's got a state of the art private hospital at her disposal."
Scott looked away from the screen, rushing to think this through, "What do you mean 'at her disposal'?"
"She's about to open a private hospital for ex-military officers. The main practice is in York but the hospital is deep in the North York Moors for security and anonymity purposes," John shrugged and tried to impart on Scott that this was their only option. "It's ideal for Virgil. He doesn't have to be there any longer than absolutely necessary."
With a great deal of reluctance Scott brought up the coordinates and plotted them into the computer system, "Okay, tell Penelope we'll meet her there." He paused, hesitant to go on. "Oh, and one more thing," Scott stopped attending to various controls to look at his astronaut brother. John raised an eyebrow. "Virgil isn't the only casualty on board," Scott confessed. John was taken aback, he cocked his head to one side to stare at Scott in confusion. "We found Virgil with another guy. He was alive so we brought him too," Scott began explaining, "Virgil said he saved his life, made me promise that we'd look after him."
"Look after him?" John replied, his tone rising as he put all the pieces together. "Who? There was only… oh my god," realisation dawned, "not the other prisoner?" John's face fell. "Scott! He's responsible for all this! What are you thinking!"
"It's not like that!" Scott defended, bristling at the thought that John was questioning his judgement. "Look, I admit that I don't fully understand what's happened but I trust Virgil and he must have a damned good reason for asking me to do this. You didn't see him; I couldn't turn him down, John, he made me promise."
"Well, I trust Virgil too," John agreed, "but after what he's been through no one would blame him if his judgement was a little off-center." He shook his head, "You said yourself he had a head injury, he's confused!"
"No," Scott shook his head with vigour and turned back to his controls, "he was genuine, John. I know Virgil, he was sure about this, I could tell."
"Well, I hope so for your sake," John muttered. There was a silence between them as the news sunk in and a sigh ruffled through the airwaves, "Okay, I'll let Penelope know. Will he need medical attention?"
Scott felt the power build under his fingertips as his brother's craft came to life beneath him, "He's got a serious head injury and he's been shot. I'm not convinced he'll make it. Gordon's still trying to revive him now but it didn't look good. I think he'll be more in need of a mortuary than an emergency room."
"Okay, well, I'll let Penelope know," John made a note of the information. "Dad'll want to come to England ASAP if Virgil's being treated there. He's already sent Tin-Tin out to get Grandma. I think there's going to be trouble in paradise, if you get my meaning."
Scott winced, "Yeah, I get your meaning alright." Their Grandmother could wreak havoc when she wanted to and Scott was certain that this would be one of those times. She would not be happy that her grandson had been injured and she certainly wouldn't be happy that she couldn't be by his side immediately. "Do you want to tell Dad about Luke or shall I?" he concentrated for a few moments, unused to the heavier controls of Thunderbird Two as he lifted off from the crash site and banked so as they were heading in the right direction. The cockpit hummed around him.
"Let's not tell Dad for now," John suggested, "he's frantic enough about Virgil and the last thing he needs is more stress. Besides it's better to tell him when he reaches the hospital, that way, when he has a heart attack he's in the right place," John's tone dripped with sarcasm but Scott wasn't amused at all and scowled his disapproval at his brother's dark sense of humour.
"That's not funny," Scott berated, his tone sullen. "I'll head to those coordinates, you get in touch with Penny."
"FAB," John responded, he moved his hand to close the link but hesitated. "Look after him, Scott," he said, not giving Scott a chance to respond and flicking a switch to end the conversation.
Scott looked at the screen but he was too late, John had already cut the connection. "I will, Johnny," he muttered to himself, "I will."
Scott heaved a sigh, taking Two to her full speed, pushing the atomic engines for all they were worth. Thunderbird Two was a mighty craft, capable of outrunning any other commercial craft a fraction of its size but there had been plenty of times in the past when Scott wished she could have gone that little but faster. Never more so than now.
XxxxX
Gordon stood by Virgil's head, a bag of clear fluid in his hand. "I still think I should've flown us, I'm Virgil's co-pilot," he was grumbling as he squeezed the liquid down tubing and into Virgil's arm.
"Scott was right, Gords," Alan replied, applying gentle pressure to Virgil's ribs as he made his way down one side of his brother's body before covering him again with several blankets, "he can get more speed out of her. Besides, it's done now." He slipped his hands under the other side of the blanket to feel Virgil's torso once more, glancing up for any kind of response every few seconds but there was none. "I think he may have cracked a couple of ribs on the left side, too. How's his breathing now?"
Gordon glanced at the screen and took out a stethoscope, "Still wheezy."
"At least he's not bleeding as much as he was, that's got to be a good sign," Alan muttered, as he held Virgil's eyes open to check his pupils again before mirroring Gordon's pose to face the screen, "His blood pressure's still on the ground, though." Alan paused, about to go on when he caught sight of movement in the corner of his eye. "Scott," he acknowledged as their pilot entered the medical bay.
"Are we here already?" Gordon sounded surprised and raised an eyebrow when Scott gave a quick nod to the affirmative, undecided whether the young aquanaut was being uncharacteristically sarcastic.
"How is he?" Scott asked, moving forward to the head of the bed where Virgil laid, resting a hand against the raised railings. "Any improvement? Is he still unconscious?"
Alan shrugged, unclipping various monitors and placing them on the bed around Virgil's body, ready to move. "He's been drifting in and out, his pressure's up a little but still far too low. I'm pretty sure he's cracked some ribs and I'm worried that he might have some internal bleeding, there's definite bruising around his kidneys and spleen."
Scott nodded, taking the information in his stride as he peered down at his unconscious brother. "Okay, Penelope should be meeting us here any minute. Then you guys need to take Two to Foxleyheath."
Gordon opened his mouth to speak, probably in protest, but was silenced as Virgil groaned and all attention turned to him. "Virg?" he asked, moving a little closer to his stricken brother. "Virgil, can you hear us?"
Virgil didn't open his eyes to begin with but made an unsteady effort to remove the mask on his face. He was stopped in his tracks by a firm hand and the restriction of what he knew would be the cervical collar Scott had threatened him with. He reverted to plan B, forcing his eyelids ajar. "Gordy?" he muttered, trying to focus on his younger brother's winning smile as Gordon slowly came in to focus, leaning over the bed to fall within Virgil's restricted sight.
"Hey," Gordon's smile widened, "just relax, we're at the hospital now, we're going to get you fixed up."
Virgil attempted to clear his throat and caught Gordon's gaze, "Luke?" he asked.
Gordon glanced across the bed to Scott and then placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder. "You're going to be just fine," he replied, blatantly avoiding the question. "Scott's here, we're going to leave you in his capable hands and then the doctor's going to fix you up." He repeated his earlier words, "Al and I will see you later, you'll be feeling better by then," he said with confidence.
"Hey," Scott came into Virgil's line of sight as Gordon gave a soft squeeze of his shoulder and then retreated. "So, you decided to grace us with your presence, huh?" he smiled as he reached down to move the bed away from the wall, not giving Virgil chance to ask after Luke again.
Virgil placed one hand over Scott's and then pulled the oxygen mask away with his other hand. The plastic around his neck offered him harsh opposition but he manipulated Scott's arm until he had a firm grip on his brother's hand. He then pulled Scott until he was in a position where Virgil could look up, deep into his eyes. "Luke's dead, isn't he?"
He wanted confirmation of what he already knew in his heart and it came when Scott clutched his hand, gentle but tight. "I'm so sorry, Virgil," he replied, a frown developing on his brow where he towered over the bed. "I know you wanted to help him but … he didn't make it."
Virgil began to shake his head but found himself unable, "Oh, God," he mumbled. Turning away from Scott's voice wasn't an option either so he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, feeling the tears building behind his closed eyelids.
"We did everything we could," Scott went on hating himself for being the bearer of such distressing news, "but we couldn't get him back. There was nothing anyone could have done. He was too badly hurt."
The words faded until they were unrecognisable and Virgil screwed his eyes closed again, making a desperate bid to ignore the tears that were already making their way towards his pillow.
"Virgil?" Scott was at his side, his hand squeezing Virgil's in a gesture of support, "Virgil, say something…" he sighed.
But there were no words to express how Virgil was feeling in that moment. All the words in the English language couldn't do his despair justice.