22. Virgil – Critical
He could see the vitals in his own visor. John hadn't turned them off. He should have. Because right before his eyes, Virgil could see his own life slipping away.
"Heartrate slowing… Blood pressure falling away… Yup. Time for bye-byes."
When he blinked, the display was gone.
"I musta said that out loud," he said, the words scratching at his throat.
He had been torn to pieces on the side of the mountain. Where he was now, he didn't know. He wasn't even certain that all of him was in the same place. But, in one piece or many, Virgil knew he was going home in a body bag.
"Yes, you did. And I need you to stop thinking that way."
It was John's voice.
"Ah, Jay," Virgil said, once again not knowing whether he was thinking or speaking. "You were always bossy… Not a bully but bossy. Always tellin' me what t' do… Like y'knew everything…"
"I do know everything," John snapped. "Trust me. I need you to think positive, Virgil. Gordon's on the way in the ski pod. He'll get you out of there."
Unable to stop the wet chuckle that escaped his throat, Virgil shook his head – or at least tried to. He opened his eyes but closed them again as fat snowflakes landed on them. He wasn't even cold any more…
"You'll feel the cold once Gordon gets you into the pod," John said. "And yes, you did say that out loud. Listen to me, Virgil: you will be fine. Do you understand me?"
Lips moved but no sound came out. Virgil tried to open his eyes again but they were glued shut. Yes, Jay. I understand you…
"Virgil! Do you understand me? Answer!"
I'm trying… I'm trying, Jay…
"Goddammit, Virg!" John's voice rose to fever pitch. "You can't fucking die. We need you. Christ, we need you more than anything. Now listen to me: you are going to answer me right now or I swear to god, I am using the Space Elevator as a claw machine again and I'll pick your ass up off that mountain. Do you fucking understand me? Answer, you asshole!"
Virgil couldn't help it. He really couldn't. Never before had he heard John lose his cool on a mission. He was always so level, even under pressure. It was something Virgil had always admired – and envied.
And in the moment, lying in pieces on the side of a mountain, with the snow digging him a shallow grave, Virgil began to laugh. It was light at first but grew and grew.
"I always thought Gordo would be the one to die laughing…"
Those were the last words he spoke.
~oOo~
Quite where and how and what, he didn't know. But who. That was a different story. There was only one blue who could have had such vibrant hair combined with such a dreadful shirt.
"Jay?"
Blinking a few times, Virgil tried to clear the cobwebs from his head. His mouth tasted like mothballs and every move he made sent splinters of pain all through his body. But sure enough, within a few moments, John's pale face swirled into focus.
"Yeah, Virg. It's me."
His attempted to sit up failed miserably so instead, Virgil settled back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling tiles of the sick room.
"What happened?"
"Exactly what I said would happen. Gordon got you into the ski pod and brought you back – just in time."
Chuckling lightly – though wincing at the movement of his ribs – Virgil smiled.
"I guess you were right after all."
"I'm always right," John replied.
"I'm totally going to kick your ass for cussing me out, though," Virgil said.
This time it was John who chuckled.
"I'll accept my punishment," he said. His tone sobered. "I'm just glad you're okay."
"Me too, Jay," Virgil said, allowing his eyes to slip closed again. "Me too."