Here you go preludeinz! Virgil and hope. Sorry that this has taken so long. Set in OS Thunderbirds, after "Terror in New York City"
Virgil Tracy leaned on the railing and watched the progress of the rebuilding of Thunderbird Two. The visual signs of his injury were all but gone; however he was still aware that he was unable to go a full day without a blinding headache.
The headaches were getting better - they only lasted an hour or so now, and he no longer needed to down heavy doses of painkillers for them. Instead, he found he could lie down on his bed and close his eyes and nap through them.
Still… he wanted to be rid of them so that he would be able to test his re-built 'Bird. He knew that Brains had made some improvements, particularly in her handling and he agreed wholeheartedly with Scott who had requested those changes be made. He never wanted to be in that situation again. He could still feel in the pit of his stomach that sickness as Two had wallowed in the air, heavy and crippled from the missiles that had hit her.
The leaden feeling in his belly persisted as he relived in his mind the sound of metal, twisted, buckled and screaming as it tore from Two's hull. The sound of the explosion of the missiles as they hit, the electrical systems sparking, fusing and the flames taking hold. The smell of his beloved 'Bird on fire, the acrid fumes of electrical systems burning assaulting his nostrils. His hands clenched on the rail as that smell hit him like it had only just happened.
Sweat beaded on his brow and it was almost like he was back there. His own 'Bird hurting, burning, and dong the same to him as he fought to keep her airborne. Scott's voice in his ears, giving instruction, trying, it seemed, to control Two by the power of his voice alone, begging Virgil to stay with him, desperate to keep his younger brother alive.
All his life, Virgil had looked to his oldest brother, knowing that "Scott would fix it". There was only three years between them, but to a small child, three years was a lifetime.
The same sense of hope that the child-Virgil had felt when taking broken toys to his older brother to fix had been felt when adult-Virgil had listened to his brother talking him out of a potentially fatal crash. That hope that "Scott will fix it" was a constant in his life. Even when he learned that some things Scott couldn't fix, and somethings that the ultimate person in their lives – their father – could not fix either.
But for four Tracy brothers, the hope that their oldest brother would be there to fix it never wavered. Scott always knew what to do. And proved so time after time.
The acrid smell assaulted his nostrils and he focussed to see his father moving along the hull of Two, plates open and working to fix all the electricals in place. Normally, repairs of this nature were handled by Virgil himself, but that had been vetoed until the headaches went. Until the dizzy spells that happened when he crouched over to work stopped.
Resentment surged. It should be him down there. Repairing his injured 'Bird. His hands replacing buckled plates, installing new electricals. His voice telling Two of the improvements, and how they would soar across the skies again. He restoring the hope that rebuilding Two would give – the hope that was inherent in all the Thunderbirds.
Virgil jumped as a hand was placed on his shoulder and he looked up into the intense blue gaze of his oldest brother. "Sorry, I was miles away," he said.
"Dreaming of flying her again?"
"Yeah. And apologising to her that I'm not able to do the repairs."
Scott nodded, understanding. He'd feel the same way if it was One. "Father and Brains say that she'll be ready for testing in the next couple of days."
"Good. I'm looking forward to taking her up and seeing how the improvements go." Virgil's heart felt lighter as he said the words.
"Sorry Virge," Scott replied, his hand tightening. "Nobody but me goes up until I've tested the heebie-jeebies out of her and passed her for flight."
"That's my 'Bird down there Scott. I'm the one who has to know she's OK."
"You will. But you also know Father's rules about testing. The only 'Bird I don't touch is Four – and that's only because Gordon's best qualified to test her. Besides, I'm not confident to let you fly alone until you've gone two days without one of those headaches. And passed the new sims."
Virgil's mouth opened and closed for several seconds as he tried to find arguments that would work, but gave it up as he knew Scott was right. In fact, if it had been anybody else, he would have been firmly by Scott's side backing up everything he said. "What new sims?" eventually made it out of his throat.
"The ones I've just finished coding. It'll test you on the handling improvements. Including some combat sims."
"Combat?" Virgil was incredulous.
"Virge – how many times now have we been shot at? Sometimes by friendlies, sometimes by unfriendlies. Virge – you and Alan. You aren't combat trained. I…" Scott's voice cracked. "I've almost lost you because of circumstances that you had no knowledge of how to handle. I'm not going to put you – or any of my brothers – in that situation again. I can't risk your lives. Can't keep running on luck and hope."
"Hope…. It's not a bad thing to keep running on Scott. It's what we do."
"Not when it's hope we don't kill ourselves. Especially that we don't kill ourselves with our own equipment. That's not what the hope we do is about."
Virgil turned from his brother and raised his arms, grabbing the railing above the gantry, hoisting himself up and swinging slightly as he watched the work below him. After a few seconds, he lowered his feet to the ground, daring Scott to say something.
"Hope's pretty powerful, Scott. Sometimes, it's the only thing that can keep you going. Y'know – I think that Ned had the right of it."
"Ned?" Scott looked confused at what seemed to be a sudden conversation change from Virgil.
"Yeah. When he was talking about us on his television show. He's right. We bring hope. Whenever somebody sends out a call to International Rescue, they're calling on hope. Hope that John'll pick it up. Hope that we're not tied up on some other rescue. Hope that we'll get there in time – to save lives. That's a lot of hope involved."
"For whom?"
"For everybody involved. Us. The people we help. The world. And we hope that our 'Birds can do what we ask of them. Because they're as much of the team as we are."
"They are." Scott's voice was solemn as he realised how deep Virgil had gone this time.
"So – I'll follow your rules. I'll do your sims. Because of all that hope that we give, and that we have to be able to meet." He looked Scott in the eye. "But it doesn't mean I have to like it."
Scott reached out and pulled his brother close, putting their foreheads together – a gesture from childhood that this oldest and middle child had used to show their connection. "I can always hope," he said.