Thunderbirds and the Tracy Family are the creation of Sylvia and Gerry Anderson
Author's Note: My grateful thanks as always goes to my Medical Advisor and friend, FellowRiverrat for advice given on how to deal with Scott's post traumatic stress during his latest and most powerful flashback as well as to my new 'member of staff', my Combat Veteran's Counselling Advisor, JamesTKent, for the valuable advice and insight provided on flashbacks from post traumatic stress in combat veterans. As my humble tribute I dedicate this whole Medal of Honor scenario to, not only, those brave and courageous men who have been recipients of their country's highest award but also to all those whose lives have been affected and changed forever by things they will never forget and who continue to suffer very real flashbacks as a result.
See, the lengths I go to for your enjoyment! I'm so tempted to say, so why the heck not…I will. "The things I do for Recovery." Or should that be, "The things I do for International Rescue."!
Chapter 91
At the breakfast table the following morning nudges and mischievous grins passed between the two younger Tracy siblings as Virgil came in.
"Hey Virg….must've had a good time yesterday, huh," Alan conjectured with a broad grin.
Virgil shot John a worrying glance. Their activities yesterday could hardly have been described as 'having a good time'.
"Yeah….she must be really something," Gordon mused with mock seriousness.
"Huh!" Virgil grunted, screwing up his face now in puzzlement. Sometimes he just did not understand the cryptic riddles his youngest brothers engaged in but then, Virgil never was at his best in the morning.
"Yep. She must've been pretty keen. You gonna tell us her name, Virg?" Alan went on with eager delight.
"Huh!" their totally bewildered brother grunted again. "What are you two on about?" he croaked out, his voice having become more rasping overnight as the bruising developed.
"The high neck sweater, Virg….that's what we're on about," Gordon grinned knowingly. "Gee….that must be some hickey to have to hide it like that," he added in a cheeky grin, a hickey being one of those noticeably tell-tale marks left behind by an overly eager partner during a rather amorous display of affection.
John let out a spontaneous snort of laughter, which earned him a severe frown from his brother.
"And what's up with your voice, Virg……wear it out swearin your undying love!" Alan continued with the good-natured banter.
"I do…NOT…have a hickey…..and I was…NOT…swearin undying anything ," Virgil shot back irritably in a pouting frown and feeling annoyed for his eldest brother's sake. "If you must know……," he began his explanation, hoping to get his nosey younger brothers off his case.
Eager and grinning faces hung on his every word and they weren't the only ones interested to hear how he was going to explain away high neck sweaters in the warm, tropical climate. As well as John, his father, who was well used to his sons banters, peered around the side of his morning newspaper, eyeing him over the top of his reading glasses in a silent reminder to be careful in what he said; his morning papers having been restored now that the media interest had died down and moved on to the most current, sensationalist newsworthy topic, as is usually the way with the press.
"…..I just have a bit of a sore throat, that's all……no big deal," Virgil informed them simply, much to the disappointment of the two youngest boys.
"Oh Virgil…..I do hope you're not coming down with anything," Grandma fussed worriedly, putting the back of her hand to her grandson's forehead when he had sat down at the table. "I think you should just get yourself back to bed young man and I'll bring you some of my Grandma Lori's potion…..that'll fix your sore throat good and proper. Why….my Grandma Lori swore by that potion……now…where did I put it," she went on mumbling to herself.
Poor Virgil's eyes went wide.
"Urgghhhh." "Eewwww," Gordon and Alan chorused in unison, putting their hands to their throats and making gagging sounds, for Grandma Lori's potion wasn't exactly the most pleasant of medicines to have to take, in fact, the boys almost always preferred to have the sore throat.
And, unfortunately for Virgil, there was always plenty of it to be had, since Grandma had given Brains some of her original sample, which he analysed and so could produce synthetically by the bucket load if necessary.
"Aw gee, Grandma….that's great….but honestly, there's nothing that wrong with me. It'll go away in a couple of days," Virgil tried to assure her but, as is the way with grandmothers, she paid him no heed and busied herself until she found what she was looking for.
He looked to his father for some much needed help and support but his father seemed to have conveniently ducked behind the safety of his newspaper, knowing better than to interfere in his mother's tending of her grandson's supposed ailment. All John could do was shrug his shoulders in sympathy.
Virgil sighed in hopeless resignation and opened wide. If it wasn't his eldest brother trying to choke him to death or break his neck then it was his Grandma trying to poison him! All he could do now was put a brave face on it, reminding himself it was for a good cause, to protect his eldest brother.
It didn't take long now for the two youngest boys to notice a continued absence from the table, remembering that they hadn't seen him at any mealtimes yesterday; come to think of it, they hadn't seen him at all. "Hey….where's Scott? Isn't he coming in to breakfast this morning either?" Gordon inquired curiously. "Is he havin another lie-in?"
Well, that was a bit of an understatement considering he was more than likely going to be having a 'lie-in' of almost 48 hours. Virgil and John exchanged quick, though unobtrusive glances while a clearing of a throat came from behind the newspaper. Folding his paper and laying it on the table Jeff casually reached for his cup of coffee.
"Yes, Scott is having a lie-in this morning. In fact, he's going to be resting up for the rest of the day…he's been overdoing it lately with his long walks…..so I don't want him disturbed….is that clear?" Jeff informed his active and boisterous youngest sons.
"Yeah, sure Dad…..but we can go see him later, can't we….keep him company! We promise we won't annoy him," Gordon responded, followed by the same sentiments from Alan.
Jeff cleared his throat again but kept a calm and casual composure. "Well, Brains has given him something to help him sleep…so he's going to be out of it for the rest of the day…..and more than likely tomorrow too," he continued in a calming manner, as if it should be the most natural thing in the world to sleep that long. He took another sip of his coffee while Brains, too, showed no sign that there was anything to be concerned about, as he continued on eating his breakfast.
'Something to help him sleep'! That was a bit of an understatement. Well….I guess it was true to a certain extent. After all, Brains did provide the 'something to help him sleep' but they were hardly likely to admit to everyone that he had been shot full of tranquillizer!
It was Alan and Gordon's turn now to exchange glances, clearly worried that something might be wrong with their eldest brother.
"But he…he is alright, though….isn't he! I…I mean….there's nothing wrong with him….is there! Dad!" Alan queried worriedly.
Jeff's face softened in recognition of his youngest sons obvious concerns. "Yes, of course, Scott's alright. It's like I said….he's been overdoing it…..and just needs a good sleep," their father assured them. "Nothing for you to worry about."
John and Virgil exchanged a quick glance and a nod across the table, rose and went to put a comforting hand on their young brothers shoulders in a re-assuring gesture.
"Sure, Scott's gonna be alright. You know him….he just doesn't know the meaning of rest. You'd have to tie him down to make sure he took enough of a rest," Virgil assured them, his face breaking into a wry grin, with the same sentiments echoed by John. "That's why Brains gave him something to help him sleep. Look……why don't you both come in and see him for a few minutes……see for yourselves he's sleeping like a baby," he suggested in an effort to put their minds at rest, at which Gordon and Alan did just that, though both Virgil and John knew it would take more than a good sleep to sort out their eldest brother's head, to deal with his clearly delusional behaviour of yesterday but already, they had been formulating a plan. They only hoped their brother would let them help him.
After almost 48 hours Scott began to stir from his deep sleep. Stretching, he slowly opened his eyes, wincing from a dull ache in his left side as well as from some minor cuts where he had stumbled and fallen through the foliage, to find two pairs of concerned eyes watching him from beside his bed.
"Gawd, what hit me! I feel like I've been shot with an elephant gun!" Scott groaned, blinking several times and trying to shake himself more awake.
Virgil and John exchanged a quick glance and prepared themselves for the non-too-happy tirade they were sure would follow. The gesture wasn't lost on Scott as he looked from one to the other with a querying frown etched on his face.
"Look buddy…we're sorry. We…we didn't want to…..if there had been any other way……! We had to get you home….what with the storm comin in," Virgil apologised with heartfelt sincerity.
"Yeah Scott…..it was the last thing we wanted to do…honest……but there was no choice," John joined in with his apology.
"You…you guys shot me! You really shot me!" their still sleepy brother exclaimed, as he pushed himself upright to rest against the back of his bed and continuing to shake the remainder of sleep from his head. He searched his memory, questioning why his brothers would feel it necessary to shoot him with what was obviously a tranquillising dart, judging by the way he felt. And, slowly it dawned on him.
"Gawd….I really went off on one…..didn't I!" Scott realised, the upset clearly evident in his face. "I…I don't remember. All I remember is…starting off on a walk. I…I took the north trail….but I'm…not sure what happened after that….except……," he reflected audibly as he desperately searched to piece together his hazy memory.
"Except what, buddy?" Virgil asked hopefully and feeling for his brother at seeing him struggle to remember.
"I…I thought I was in the middle of a bad dream…..you know….back there in Nam. It was so real…..and then the last thing I remember…I was lying face down in the dirt….you guys were there and it was raining," Scott continued to reflect, screwing up his face in his effort to remember. But Scott had put two and two together now. "It wasn't a dream, though….was it!"
His brothers could only sadly shake their heads.
"It was bad….wasn't it?" Scott conjectured, figuring that was the reason he had been shot full of tranquillizer.
His brothers could only nod in response. "It was pretty bad…..but you couldn't help it, Scott. It wasn't your fault," John was quick to point out.
"So….which one of you guys was it! Who shot me!" Scott asked now out of curiosity.
"You don't remember that?" John inquired tentatively.
Scott shook his head. "Everything got kinda hazy."
The two boys fidgeted uncomfortably and exchanged a sheepish look.
"Well….he shot you first," Virgil was quick to point out, indicating his blond-haired brother for which he received a tight-lipped, sarcastic smile. "And I….well…I guess I…just finished the job. Well, you just wouldn't lie down, Scott," he added quickly at seeing his eldest brother's eyes grow larger.
"You both shot me! You shot me twice!" Scott exclaimed again. He continued to search through the foggy mist of his memory. "Guess that's why I felt I was in….like slow motion."
"Yeah, well…it's like Virgil said, Scott. You just wouldn't lie down. We had to stop you from running off….and we just wanted to get you back home," John explained apologetically.
"So…what are we sayin here! That I'm a stubborn 'SOB'!" Scott suggested with a saddened half-laugh. "Guess I am at that," he conceded at which his two brothers gave him a weak smile. He studied the two of them for a moment, looking from one to the other. "And you figured if I was going to get mad then you might as well share the blame, huh," he conjectured, nodding at the logic behind their forward thinking.
"Something like that," John sheepishly confessed.
But the expected angry outburst, however, never came. Instead, just questions from a concerned young man about what had happened to him.
"So….how bad did I get! When exactly did you find me?" Scott asked, searching the faces of two, now growingly uncomfortable, brothers. "Tell me…..how bad did I get!" he repeated louder, having that feeling they were keeping something from him.
But now that he was more awake, something odd had caught his attention. What Virgil was wearing! It seemed out of place for the warm climate. Scott wasn't stupid and soon his sharp, intellectual mind was rapidly working overtime, piecing together fragments of his flashback. Just what had been real and what was imaginary was hard for him to separate. He dreamt he had his 'enemy' in a deadly headlock but what if that part wasn't just imaginary, what if he really had 'somebody' in a headlock. That sudden thought sent a cold chill down his spine but he had to know the truth.
He locked eyes with Virgil then looking to his high-necked sweater Scott reached out his hand only to have his brother automatically back off. In that instant he knew.
"No…no… No, Virg….tell me I didn't," Scott frowned in heartfelt anguish, shaking his head.
"Scott don't. You don't need to do this. It wasn't your fault," Virgil assured his much-troubled brother.
But he had to know, had to see for himself. Scott broke out in a cold sweat and his breathing increased rapidly as he reached out his hand again. Hooking his fingers over the neck of his brother's sweater, he pulled it down.
He drew in a breath and winced at seeing the bruise he knew he had been the cause of. He felt sick. Even though the bruise had not been that severe and was already starting to fade he felt so bad that he could cause his brother any kind of harm.
Virgil had never intended to let him see it or draw any attention to it; intent on protecting his eldest brother from what he knew would really upset him. He had hoped it would have gone completely without Scott noticing he was even wearing a polo-neck sweater, for his voice had been restored and was no longer rasping but then his brother was just too observant.
The shock and hurt in his eyes was painful to see.
"Gawd, Virgil…..I'm so sorry. I…I didn't mean to hurt you," Scott immediately apologised.
"Hey…I know that, buddy. Look, let's forget it. No one else knows about this….well…apart from Dad and Brains," Virgil encouraged him with a smile.
But Scott shook his head. "I…I can't. Gawd…I could have killed you, Virg….don't you realise that? I could have killed you," he replied, searching his brother's face in anguish.
Virgil could see how seriously this bothered him, how troubled he was. He put a reassuring hand on his brother's arm and looked intently into his eyes. "But you didn't, Scott. You couldn't do it….you knew something wasn't right…..you couldn't follow it through. That's what you've gotta hold onto, Scott."
"But that's what I'm capable of. I hurt you, Virg," Scott reflected, the shock of realisation in his tone.
"Just because you're capable doesn't mean you will. Scott….you could no more hurt us…than we could hurt you," Virgil continued to reassure his brother, knowing he needed his confidence building and intent on doing everything he knew how to do just that.
"Virgil….it's not the same thing and you know it. I…I didn't know it was you….did I? I thought I had 'Charlie'," Scott responded sharply, trying to make his brother understand.
"Which just goes to show all the more that something kept you from following through, Scott. You knew something wasn't right. You have a…a…I dunno…..call it a…fail-safe mechanism. Because…deep down your sub-conscious knew you weren't really in that situation….you weren't really in danger," Virgil reassured him with an excitement in his tone that he hoped would encourage his brother.
"Yeah….maybe. But I still hurt you, Virg," a forlorn and dejected brother responded.
So forlorn and dejected at his actions was he that Scott drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and buried his head in order to think through his options. This was not something he could let go. Having flashbacks that simply resulted in him breaking out in a cold sweat was one thing but when it came to actually interacting with someone else to the extent of causing them any kind of bodily harm, that was quite another.
The two brothers exchanged worried and concerned glances, recognising that their brother was on a real downer. Well, Scott had come through too much already for them to allow him to sink in total despair now. John called Virgil off to the side for a few moments and after some hurried whispers they returned to his bedside.
Wearily Scott lifted his head. "And what if it happens again? What if I go off on one again….and hurt somebody else. Maybe I should just sign myself in," he pondered dejectedly, referring to signing himself in to the Air Force wing of the military hospital for re-evaluation of post-traumatic stress.
The two boys shot each other a quick glance. Gee, their brother was really down on himself for him to suggest that.
"That's not gonna happen, Scott. We're gonna make sure it doesn't happen," Virgil told him adamantly, joined by nods of agreement from John. "Look…we all knew this wasn't gonna be easy for you….and this was just a bad episode….that's all. And you needn't be too hasty about signin yourself in anywhere either…cus we got a plan, buddy," he added with a wry grin.
Puzzled and intrigued, Scott sat upright, a faint glimmer of hope lighting his face. "A plan, huh! What are you gonna do! Keep me tranked up!" he quipped with a weak smile.
John and Virgil broke into a smile, glad to see a little of their brother's trademark dry wit return. "Not a bad idea," John returned playfully. "Especially after callin us….what was it….oh yeah…..'a bunch a pansy-assed pussies'…..I believe."
Scott winced. "Oh gawd….I said that! I must've been really out of it."
"Well…to be fair….you did think you were yelling at 'Charlie'…..and you were pretty doped up at the time," John informed him. "At least…we hope you were yelling at 'Charlie'!" he added with a grin, hoping to make his brother smile. And he did. Just a little.
"No…seriously, Scott….we do have a plan to help you….if you'll let us," John continued earnestly.
"Well, let's hear it. I guess anything's worth a shot right now," Scott conceded willingly.
"We figure a little de-sensitising therapy is what you need….to help you feel more comfortable about being in a jungle environment without associating it all the time with bad memories," Virgil began to explain.
"Yeah….I guess that sounds like a plan. What have you got in mind?" Scott asked beginning to find himself a little more uplifted and hopeful, much to his two brother's delight.
John carried on eagerly. "Well, it's simple really. We take you on walks into the jungle….short walks at first….say ten minutes….and just going a few steps up the trail. If you start to feel uncomfortable we come straight back out again….no sweat. And gradually….we just build up the length of the walks and how long we stay….until it just feels like home again," he beamed with a smile, for it was, indeed, such beautiful simple logic.
They eagerly awaited their eldest brother's response.
Scott fought hard to hold back the sudden choking emotion that was overwhelming him. "You….you would do that…..for me!"
It wasn't quite the response they expected from their self-confident, 'Mr-I-can-handle-this-by-myself' brother and, as such, they found themselves choking up with emotion.
"Ye..yeah…su..sure we would, buddy. No matter how long it takes. We..we'll be with you every step of the way," Virgil assured him. And indeed, that's what it would take; one step at a time on the long road to recovery, a road Scott would be destined to travel more than once in his lifetime and a road his other brothers would be also destined to travel.
"Yeah, of course we would, Scott…..and I'm sure there's some medication that Brains could give you too that would help. And he could also try some hypnosis therapy….you know….help you disassociate!" John added helpfully.
Their brother winced a smile. "You guys have really thought this through….haven't you?" Scott mused in quiet reflection.
"Yeah, buddy…we have. We want you to know we're there for you…all the way. We want to help you, Scott," Virgil encouraged him. "And…..if that doesn't work….or you feel it's not helping….well, then you can think about signing yourself in….but at least give this a shot first, huh."
Scott let out a relieved smile and gave his brothers an affirmative nod, feeling a little more hopeful than before as he allowed his brothers infectious enthusiasm to lift his spirits. The three high-fived each other then grasped their hands together as though sharing some secret pact, with the two boys assuring Scott this would remain between them.
And his brothers were as good as their word. Without drawing any undue attention to the fact Virgil and John began accompanying Scott on walks along the trails of their island home, starting with just those few simple steps and gradually building up his duration. Over the weeks Scott found himself relax more in his brothers company and at times Gordon and Alan joined them without even knowing that for their combat scarred brother this was all useful and supportive therapy, along with the short-term medication Brains had prescribed for him. Scott also found himself admitting the hypnosis sessions were proving both useful and relaxing.
Now he wouldn't say he never again experienced another flashback, for that would just not be realistic but he never experienced another such powerful, let's say, 'hands on' episode as that first time he re-entered a jungle environment.
And then it was time for more saddened farewells. After six long weeks of extended compassionate leave it was time for his brothers and Tin-Tin, with the exception of Virgil, to go back to their respective careers and education, for another short while at least, until their father's 'little project' came fully into fruition, when they would all be united together again for the good of others.
They left, though, with the promise that they would all be meeting up again in another two weeks in Washington DC, the date having finally been set for their brother to, at last, be honored with the awarding of his Medal of Honor; a further two weeks after that and he would be recalled to active duty.
It felt strangely quiet around the villa with most everyone gone, especially the excitable and boisterous younger Tracy siblings but it afforded Scott a much-needed time of quiet reflection as the time grew closer when he knew he would be thrust back into the limelight, somewhere he didn't want to be but then, he had no choice, did he; it was his duty.
Virgil still accompanied him on walks along the trails, as did his father at times, though now it was more for companionship than out of re-assurance and confidence building and sometimes Scott had walked alone, finding it easier and easier as time went by. Scott also spent time with Virgil and Brains in the vast underground hangars, pouring over design sketches and giving his much valued opinion into the ongoing preparations. He had to admit to being particularly excited by the prospect of the proposed reconnaissance/scout ship his father had envisaged and into which, he himself had invested his expert knowledge as a skilled combat pilot, incorporating the best design features from the hi-tech aircraft he was so well used to flying.
One afternoon found Scott sitting alone on the beach, staring out to sea in deep contemplation as he idly lifted handfuls of sand, letting it run through his fingers. He had gotten used to the quiet serenity of his island home and wondered now how he would cope with going back to the disciplined life of the squadron's base he had been away from for so long. He smiled quietly to himself at the change around in his feelings, remembering that's exactly how he had felt about first coming home and wondering how he would adjust.
"Mind if I join you?" a sudden deep base voice interrupted, making him jump just a little.
Looking round and up Scott winced a smile. "No….sure Dad."
Jeff eased himself down beside his son and together they sat for a while in companionable silence.
"Thinking about going back, Son?" Jeff surmised, knowing how he felt when his leave time was coming to an end, though he knew, for his son, this would be much harder.
"Yeah……I guess so," Scott admitted tentatively.
"It's always hard, Son…..especially when you've been away for a while. Just the same as it was for you to come home, I expect," his father responded quietly, offering the wisdom of experience.
Scott winced and puckered his face into a pained frown at that last comment. It was something they hadn't spoken of and he had tried his hardest not to make it that obvious for he hadn't wanted to hurt his family by having them think he didn't want to come home.
"I..I'm sorry…I didn't mean it to be like that. I mean….it…it's not that I didn't want to come home, Dad…it…it's…," Scott struggled to say, searching for a way of explaining how he felt.
"It's all right, Son…..I think I understand. It's just you didn't know….how….to come home," Jeff voiced his son's feelings, knowing his son would feel changed by his experiences and wonder how he should react around his family.
Relieved that his father had been able to put it into words Scott nodded. "Something like that."
"There's no need to apologise, Son. It's only natural you would feel that way….with all that you've been through," his father assured him understandingly.
They sat another while in contemplation.
"You don't need to go back, you know…….if you feel you can't. No one would blame you," Jeff suggested carefully, breaking the silence of their thoughts as they listened to the crashing of the ocean out on the reef.
Scott frowned heavily at his father's suggestion. "Run away….you mean! I've never run away from anything in my life…..and I'm not about to start now," he stated adamantly, appalled at the idea for it had never entered his head. Sure, he might find some things hard to cope with for a while but he inevitably always met them head on and found a way to deal with whatever problems he faced; never, though, had running away ever been an option for he would feel he had failed himself.
In truth, Jefferson Tracy hadn't expected anything less from his eldest son, knowing him to have that stubborn streak, that grit and determination that had always seen him through and which Jeff was thankful to see had not been extinguished by his whole traumatic ordeal.
"I didn't mean it to sound like that, Son. I just meant….if you really feel you can't face it….you don't have to," his father replied, his only concern being to protect his son from further pain.
"And what would you do, Dad…..buy me out!" Scott surmised, knowing full well his father's money could just about get him anything he wanted and with knowing the 'right' people too, it wouldn't have been a problem.
"If that's what it took, Son. And you know how much I've always wanted you in on this venture right from the start. This reconnaissance ship we have planned….she'll be the fastest thing there is…..and she's going to be all yours, Son. Your experience and knowledge would be invaluable…..we could use your help," his father encouraged, using the added temptation of what his son loved to do best…and that was fly.
"You have that already, Dad. I promised you I would help every way I could," Scott assured his father.
"I know, Son…and you have. But no one would see you as running away from your duty or obligation," Jeff reassured him.
"But I would, Dad….I would," Scott stated solemnly. "Dad, I appreciate what you're saying….and what you're trying to do….but this is something I have to do….I want to finish out my service. And then I'm all yours," he added, hoping his father would understand.
"I guess I always knew you would say that, Son. I just wanted you to know that you had a choice…if you wanted it," his father responded with quiet pride.
Scott nodded with a relieved smile, relieved and thankful that his father was not going to argue or try to talk him out of his decision but rather support him in whatever he decided to do.
"But you know I would have been proud of you no matter what your decision," Jeff told him, putting a firm hand on his son's shoulder and squeezing it lightly in a supportive gesture.
"Thanks, Dad," Scott acknowledged quietly.
After reassuring his son that he would adjust again to military life Jeff left him to his solitary contemplations and headed back up to the villa, for, in some things, it took a man to wrestle with his own soul to find what he was looking for.
And then it was here. That day when Scott was to be flown Stateside to receive his Congressional Medal of Honor, a day he had never asked for or wanted but rather was thrust upon him in the name of duty, being honor bound to receive it for his country's sake. It had been almost four months now since that fateful reconnaissance flight that had changed this young man's life forever, four long months of healing and clawing his way back to physical fitness but still he could not even begin to put the memories behind him, not until this very public reminder was done and out of the way. Only then, did he feel he could bury those memories so deep he would never have to think of them again. Life, though, has a cruel knack of turning round and biting you in the ass when you least expect it, as Scott was, inevitably to find out.
The Tracy household had once more been a flurry of activity over the previous few days as the remainder of the family prepared to leave for Washington DC, arriving the day before the ceremony to give Scott some much needed rest after the journey. They would stay, of course, in one of Washington's prestigious five-star hotels, where Jefferson Tracy had secured a whole floor to afford his family and especially Scott the privacy they would need.
There was much excitement as the packing was done with the exception of one solemn young man who seemed to grow quieter the closer the day for departure came.
"Can I help you with any of your packin, buddy? I've mine done," Virgil offered as he came into his brother's room.
"No…I'm almost done….but thanks anyway, Virg," Scott quietly acknowledged his brother's offer of help. He was just in the process of laying out his dress uniform on the bed in order to pack it into its special protective suit cover and then hang it up until they were ready to leave, Scott being as diligent and meticulous as he always was.
"And are you sure you've got everything…..?" his brother asked, automatically looking around to see if there was anything Scott might have forgotten in his anxious attempt to be of some help.
In truth, he had to admit to feeling a little nervous excitement as the enormity of the occasion his eldest brother was about to undertake began to sink in; after all, it wasn't every day a guy was given his country's highest and most coveted award. No one could remember the last time there had been a living recipient since the few medals that had been given had been given posthumously and received by the families, so this was to be a truly momentous occasion.
"What! You think I can't pack for myself, now! I was shot in the back…not the head," Scott snapped irritably. He crossed to the window, his face set in a heavy frown, annoyed with himself for letting fly.
The outburst took Virgil a little by surprise but then it suddenly dawned on him and he gave himself a mental slap up the side of the head for being so idiotic and thoughtless. While they as a family were extremely proud and excited by the prospect of this prestigious ceremony and seeing him honored as they felt he deserved, for Scott it meant something totally different, a stark and very public reminder of the memories he was trying to forget as the citation would have to be read out, as well as the fact he knew his brother felt he didn't do anything out of the ordinary in rescuing his buddy and comrade.
"No, of course I didn't mean to imply you weren't capable or anything," Virgil apologised right away. "Guess you're not really lookin forward to this….are you? Scott, I'm sorry….I just wasn't thinkin."
Scott breathed out a heavy sigh and turned to his brother. "No….it's me that's sorry, Virg……I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. And no….I'm not looking forward to this….I wish it was over and done with." He turned to gaze again out of the window and began slowly shaking his head. "I…I don't know why they're giving me this, Virg. I don't deserve any of it. I took two guys out without any thought whatsoever…..and…and I stood by and watched all those people suffer….and couldn't do a damn thing about it…..and for that….they're giving me a medal!" he continued in reflection, sounding incredulous at the idea.
Scott turned to look at his brother and Virgil could see his eyes glistened over. "It's not just any medal, Virg. It's the Medal of Honor. You have no idea what that really means to me. I know the price guys have paid for this medal…..even making the ultimate sacrifice. Honor! Honor is everything, Virg…..and I guess …I just don't feel very honorable," he added with a heavy heart, the respect and awe of which he spoke clearly evident and the medal's significance not lost on him.
Virgil could only smile weakly with sympathetic understanding and a shake of his head. He should have known it of his overly modest and unassuming brother; that he would feel totally undeserving. It wasn't unusual, though, for those few men who had been living recipients to have felt the same way when they had been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor; that they were nothing out of the ordinary or had done anything worthy to warrant being awarded such an honor but then, that is one of the traits that governs this small and elite band of men.
"You have no idea of what it is you really accomplished….have you, buddy?" Virgil smiled in wonderment.
Scott winced at the obvious intended praise. "All I did was get Jez back to where he would get the medical attention he needed. Anybody else would have done the same thing."
Virgil shook his head. "They might have tried, Scott….but lesser guys would have folded…panicked under that sort of pressure. You did what you had to do…with no thought for yourself….and you carried….yeah carried Jez for two nights…even when you were injured yourself. Hell, Scott….even when you were badly wounded and under heavy fire you managed to get him outta there. And I know you feel bad about those people….but Scott…you stayed…at great risk to yourself….and you brought what was happening to them to the attention of the Peace Alliance…their own country can't pretend they don't know anymore…and that's all down to you, Scott. So don't tell about the price all those other guys paid….I got all I need to know about honor right here in front of me, buddy," Virgil stated with quiet pride.
Scott winced uncomfortably, so choked with emotion he could barely speak. He turned to gaze at the tranquil scene from his window and drew a deep breath. "I…I just wish it was over."
A comforting hand reached out and grasped his shoulder. "I know, buddy…I know…..and it will be…soon. And then you'll have those two weeks with Cass…at the Retreat before you have to go back on duty. It'll do you good….but hey….I'm sure gonna miss you, buddy. I feel like I only just got you home…you know," Virgil assured him and beginning to feel pretty choked up himself now as he forced a smile, trying to put a brave face on it.
Scott just wincingly nodded, not trusting himself to speak and the two brothers automatically pulled each other into a tight embrace; something Scott felt unable to do when he first came home. He was looking forward to this retreat time with Cass and, although his father had been initially disappointed that his son would not be coming back home with them after the ceremony for those last two weeks, he understood Scott's deep-seated need for what Cass would be able to give him. I guess, somewhere in the back of Scott's mind, he was hoping he could recapture that part of his Vision that had brought him peace and happiness.
It was a solemn young man who stood now in front of the long mirror in his hotel suite that morning, impassively staring at his reflection, once more, handsomely resplendent and immaculate in his full dress uniform.
"Are you ready, Son? They're here for you," his father interrupted his faraway thoughts.
