SIXTEEN

Scott's next encounter with reality was not unsolicited. A weight was pressing against his arm, the repetitive motion of someone's thumb.

"Scott?" The call was soft and familiar, yet there was an element of urgency to it. "Can you hear me?"

Scott pulled his lips together and swallowed back the disgusting, dry feeling in his mouth. He braced himself to be blinded by the bright lights of Thunderbird Two's infirmary but when he opened his eyes, he could just decipher another human outline.

"Son?"

That narrowed it down somewhat.

"Dad." Scott swallowed again and let out a breath. "How d'you get here?"

"Here is home, Scott," his father reassured him. "You're back on the Island."

Scott took a fresh interest in his surroundings, waiting for his eyes to bring firstly his father, and then the rest of the room into focus. Sure enough, off to one side at the counter he could also see Brains and Tin-Tin working side by side under another dim light.

"I know you're tired son," Jeff was apologetic. "I'm sorry I have to do this to you but I need to know what happened. Did…"

"Virgil?"

Jeff was caught off-guard by the interruption and hesitated.

"Gordon lied," Scott ground out against a cough then concentrated on the frown his father was sporting. "He told me he'd wake me."

"No I didn't." Gordon spoke up from where he was entering the room with evidence bags in either hand. "I told you I'd let you know. This is me letting you know… via Dad." He nodded his head towards their father, as Brains and Tin-Tin moved forward to relieve him of the bags.

"There's no change, Scott. Virgil's doing as well as can be expected."

Jeff noted Scott's brow furrow as if he was formulating a response to Gordon, and was already preparing himself to nip this conversation in the bud. Luckily, Gordon's watch began to beep, saving him the trouble.

"Stand by, Thunderbird Five," Gordon spoke into the device but he was already moving towards the door. "Go ahead…" he said, as he disappeared.

Jeff attempted to steer the conversation back on track. "Now…"

"Where is he?" Scott was already trying to push himself up on to his elbows.

"He's right here," Jeff made a point of looking over Scott's shoulder and then waiting for his eldest son to follow his gaze.

As Scott did exactly that, he sank back against the mattress and his head rolled to the left. On the hospital bed beside him was Virgil but apart from the flashing lights above him, there were no other visible signs of life.

"Will he…. Is he … Is he going to be okay?"

"It's too early to say, son. The indications at this stage are all good. We have to take that as a positive."

"Gordon mentioned there might be complications? Organ damage?" Scott's attention remained on his brother.

"We'll know more when he wakes up."

"When will that be?" Finally, Scott turned to look up at his father, sensing there was something he wasn't being told.

"Soon."

"How soon?"

Jeff heaved a sigh, and raised a hand to rub at his eyes. "We just have to wait, Scott. Give him some time. His body has one hell of a recovery to make."

"But he will… recover?"

"I think you need to concentrate on getting yourself better, son."

But Scott wasn't about to give up there.

"Dad, I need to know his chances. What aren't you telling me?"

Jeff perched on the bed and studied his son; pale, exhausted and riddled with anxiety that deep-down Jeff accepted was a mirror image of his own.

"There are no guarantees with anything. You know that as well as I do. We have to wait. We've all done everything we can, you included, but it's up to Virgil now." He gave Scott's bandaged hand a squeeze of encouragement. "For the record, I'm cautiously optimistic."

"Dad, I was so focused on getting him out. I guess …. I guess I just thought that it was over, that we were safe but we're not safe are we?"

"You're safe here," Jeff stressed.

"Virgil's not. It seems so unfair that after all the fighting to get out, he's still got to fight some more."

Jeff swallowed hard. "Nothing about life is fair, Scott. We know that better than most." He tried to smile. "Virgil's fit, he's strong and he's young. He's got all those things on his side. He won't go down without a fight."

"Dad, he was exhausted. I don't know if there's any fight left in him."

"We're not going to think like that and we're definitely not going to talk like that." Jeff stressed, this time a lot more firmly. "You're still exhausted yourself."

"I'm sorry sir, I guess I'm just ..."

"Hey." Jeff eased back. "Come on, you're okay. You're both going to be okay. You need to rest and I'm sorry I had to wake you but I need to know if there's any risk to the organisation that I should be acting on."

"There's no risk, sir."

"You can be sure?"

"Yeah," Scott licked dry lips. "Yeah, I can be sure."

"How?"

"Dead," Scott swallowed thickly. "All dead."

Normally during a rescue debriefing those words would be received with sombre expressions, platitudes of having done their best and the usual line that they couldn't save everyone. Today, Jeff couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for allowing himself the luxury of relief.

"What about the woman? The Colonel?"

Scott's eyes held a genuine sadness. "She's dead too. She was trapped."

"She couldn't have gotten out? You can be absolutely sure that she's dead?"

"She was shot and then a building collapsed on top of her. I think her chances are pretty non-existent."

"Okay, son." Jeff was finally convinced. "I don't need to know anything else. Try to get some rest now."

"Dad, if there's any change…"

Jeff didn't allow him to finish.

"Virgil's in good hands, Scott. Try to relax. You're both safe, that's the important part."

XxxxX

"Dad…Ugh!" Gordon grunted as, twenty minutes later he re-entered the room at a quick pace and promptly collided with Tin-Tin.

Bags and boxes went tumbling to the floor.

"Shh!" Jeff scolded before turning his attention to Scott.

"Sorry, Tin-Tin." Gordon was already kneeling on the floor, helping her to pile the items up as his father covered the short distance towards them.

"Dad," he looked up at his father, reducing the volume to little more than a whisper. "John said he's had the WSC on the line. They want to talk to you in person."

After his conversation with Penelope, Jeff wasn't surprised. He looked at his surrogate daughter and then his second youngest son, as they both pushed themselves wearily to their feet and dusted themselves down. Tin-Tin's hair was a mess and her eyes were red and puffy. Gordon looked pale and drained despite the clean pair of International Rescue casuals he sported.

"What exactly is all this?" Jeff turned his attention to the pile of evidence bags and boxes on the floor.

"Evidence, Mr Tracy. These are our firearms." Tin-Tin opened the box she had in her hand to reveal an International Rescue issue firearm zip tied into place. "Dr Jackson is an ex-police doctor so he secured all the evidence like this in case we needed it in the future. He suggested we might prosecute through the WSC. Brains and I will destroy it all in time."

Tin-Tin's hands were shaking and Jeff caught sight of Gordon who was watching her reaction, sadness in every line of his expression.

"Not tonight, Tin-Tin." Jeff was firm as he gently grasped her shoulders. "Gordon can lock those away in the arms cabinet for now." He gave Gordon a pointed look who took his queue to remove the box from Tin-Tin's hands. "The boys are comfortable enough, honey. Brains is here and Tom's sleeping just down the hall. Go get some sleep yourself."

For a moment, Jeff thought she was going to burst into tears but instead she composed herself with a nod, spared one last glance to both Scott and Virgil and then left the room.

Jeff turned to find Brains staring at him and then at Gordon, as if to draw his attention towards his second youngest son. He soon realised that Gordon was stood at the doors that led to the lab and the arms locker, looking at the evidence bag in his right hand and not doing a lot else.

"Son?"

He walked towards him.

"Huh?" Gordon broke from his reverie but his eyes still carried a vacant expression. "Sorry…. I was just…" He trailed off as he indicated the evidence bag in his hand unable to express what he was 'just' doing.

Jeff looked at it, really looked at it, and for the first time concentrated on its contents; the tell-tale blue material tarnished with darkened crimson, still damp enough to cause the plastic to stick together, trapping the syrup-like liquid inside.

Jeff could only imagine what it had been like dealing with it first hand, and his stomach flipped three sixty at the thought. He reached out and took the bag much like Gordon had done himself only minutes earlier.

"Come on," he encouraged, one hand creeping around his son's shoulders and leading him towards the door. "You too, get to bed."

"But…" Gordon faltered, looking towards Brains and then both of his brothers. "If there's any change…"

"I'll let you know."

Jeff was surprised when Gordon didn't pick up on the intended satire.

"What about the Security Council?" Gordon asked as the doors whooshed open.

"Don't worry about that," Jeff assured him as ushered him out the door. "It won't hurt the WSC to have a dose of their own medicine. I'll have John make contact with them in the morning."

Gordon still didn't step over the threshold. "What about you?"

"I'm going to stay here a little while longer." Jeff paused as Gordon's eyes strayed to the two hospital beds in the room once more. "I know how hard it must've been for you and Alan out there. You did well, Gordon. I'm proud of you. Both of you." He reinforced his words with a squeeze to Gordon's shoulder. "Now, go get some sleep, son."

Gordon finally disappeared down the hallway and less than half an hour later, Jeff dispatched Brains to check they were all sleeping peacefully before calling at the kitchen to replenish their coffee supply on his return journey.

As Brains stuttered out a 'Y-yes, Mr T-Tracy' and slipped from the dim lights of the infirmary, Jeff pulled up the comfiest chair he could find, placed it between the two occupied beds and settled down for the night.