"Virg? Virgil, wake up."

Virgil Tracy was a heavy sleeper, and the command to wake up barely registered on his consciousness. After a few precious moments of silence, the 32-year-old man sat bolt upright in his bed.

"Aaaaa! Son of a... ! Gordon..."

"Wake up, Virg."

"Geezus, what time... Two... Gordon, it's two o'clock in the morning! I don't hear an emergency alarm. You better have a damn good reason for waking me up, or I swear, I'm going to kill you."

Gordon cocked his head. "You told me you wanted to know when he was at it again, so I'm telling you. He's at it again, and I'm going to bed."

"Crap. Okay, I'll take care of it. Oh, and Gordon? If you ever, ever stick a wet thumb in my ear again, I'm going to break it off and stick up your tail, you understand me?"

"Virgil, I called and shook you for five minutes and you didn't even roll over. Desperate measures were called for."

"Yeah, yeah. Go to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night. Good luck."

Virgil grunted, slumped on his bed. The soft mattress called to him, but he forced himself up. Standing with eyes closed, he decided a quick trip to the bathroom to toss some cold water on his face was in order.

A few moments later, he padded down the hallway of his family's home. Gordon had not said where his brother Scott was, but Virgil's step was sure. He crossed the lounge and went out on the balcony. With a glance toward the pool on the lower level, Virgil took the winding stairway two steps at a time, coming out on the patio.

He stopped. The poolside lights were on, and he took a moment to take stock of his older brother who sat oblivious to his presence. Scott had always been a handsome man, but Virgil thought with some sorrow that the years had not been good to him.

At 35, Scott's hair was already salt and pepper. Their father had ruefully reminded them that he himself had been totally gray by forty. But it wasn't just the hair. Years of responsibility and difficult decisions as the field commander of International Rescue had prematurely lined Scott's face, giving it a certain cold hardness. Virgil stared, wondering when Scott's dimples had become cracks.

Sighing, he walked over and flopped down on the chaise lounge next to Scott's. Scott didn't so much as glance up from his scrutiny of the shot glass in his hand. Virgil saw the nearly empty bottle of scotch and bit his tongue. He had promised himself that this time there would be no fight. This time he would let Scott talk at his own pace. There would be no accusations, no pious sermons.

His brother had always liked the occasional scotch to help him unwind, especially after difficult rescues. But lately, the single glass sipped slowly, had become half a bottle or more on almost a nightly basis. Virgil watched as Scott tossed the shot back, taking the smooth liquid in a single gulp. He had to stop himself from commenting.

Scott sat staring at his glass, running a forefinger around the rim. After a few moments, he looked over at the bottle and casually picked it up and poured another shot. He lifted the glass and silently toasted the night sky, a habit he had picked up when their brother John had started his first shift in Thunderbird Five.

Virgil gazed up into the sky. "Actually, I think Thunderbird Five is a bit more to the left. Closer to the Southern Triangle than the Southern Cross."

Virgil waited for a response but Scott sat silently. For want of anything better to say, Virgil reminisced, "Remember when you taught John the constellations? The look on his face when he realized you made it all up?"

Scott almost smiled for a moment but remained silent. Virgil waited for any sign that Scott would answer. He had just about given up when in a low sad voice, Scott said, "I was just a kid. I didn't think it was important."

Trying to lighten things, Virgil responded. "Well, John sure did. What was that you called Capricorn?"

"The Goat Fart. It amazes me that Johnny has any faith in me at all."

"Ah, it was a long time ago."

"Remember when he was afraid of the boogeyman?"

"Oh God, what was he, three, maybe four years old?"

"Five. He was five years old and he needed someone to believe him. He needed someone to believe him and all I did was laugh."

"Come on, Scott. I doubt he even remembers that. As I recall, you laughed at my monster in the closet, and I wasn't permanently scarred."

Scott resumed his inspection of his shot glass. After several minutes, he slowly shook his head. "Your monster wasn't real."

It wasn't a response Virgil expected. "What? Scott, it was just night terrors. We all went through them. John's boogeyman was no more real that the flying monkeys outside of Gordon's window or the scary clowns under Alan's bed."

Again silence dropped over the conversation. Virgil yawned, wondering if he should give it up and go to bed. It was several minutes and another shot of scotch before Scott spoke again. "Do you remember that woman? The pregnant one in Ecuador?"

Virgil was caught offguard by the change in subject. "Last summer? Yeah. She was damn lucky."

Still staring up at the night sky, Scott nodded. "Lucky. Five years ago she would have died."

"Maybe, maybe not." Virgil wondered if his brother had any point.

"She would have died and that baby we delivered would be motherless right now."

Virgil shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. "Yeah, but she didn't die. Thanks to that Clonpinedinex, she's fine and the kid is fine."

"Yeah. A wonder drug. One shot and just like that, a happy ending." Scott again toasted the starry sky.

Virgil sat perplexed. Usually he could follow Scott's train of thought with no problem, but that almost psychic connection he shared with the man was now quiescent. He had no idea what was going on in his brother's brain.

"When is Brains due back?"

Virgil started. This time the silence had gone on for almost ten minutes, and he had started to drift off. Pulling himself up straighter, he responded. "In two days, and it can't be soon enough for me. Every time he and TinTin go off to those conferences, Alan climbs the walls."

"You remember that time device Brains was fooling with?"

"What, the time machine? Yeah, I remember it. I never understood the physics of the damn thing, but I remember it. It would have been nice if Brains could have worked the bugs out. Imagine being able to get to the danger zone within five minutes of the initial call. God, remember that flood in Turkey?"

"We could have saved those people if we'd gotten there quicker."

"It's just as well it didn't work, though. I mean, if you can get there after the call, why not before? Before the disaster even happens?

"What would be so bad about that?"

"You can't change history, Scott."

"Why the hell not?"

Virgil was a bit surprised at the anger in Scott's attitude. "Okay, suppose you go back to say, 1933. You kill Adolf Hitler. You've just saved millions of people, right?"

"Right. That's our job, saving people."

"Ah yes, but because you've killed Hitler, there is no World War Two to force development of the atom bomb."

"Another good thing."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But it was fear of nuclear war that drove the Cold War of the fifties. And it was the Cold War that led to the space race. It was the Apollo moon landing that inspired Dad to join the Air Force instead of the Navy like his Dad. It was the Air Force that stationed Dad at Edwards where he met Mom. So in a very weird and roundabout way, Adolf Hitler is responsible for you and me."

"So you're saying you and I are worth more than the millions who died because of Hitler and his Nazis."

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all. That's like one little thread in a huge tapestry. What I am saying is you change one thing in the past and you can't tell what effect it will have on the future. Who knows? Maybe killing Hitler would open the way for someone even worse. Someone who succeeds where Hitler failed. You kill Hitler and you may doom the world to the Thousand Year Reich."

"I don't give a damn about Hitler."

Again Virgil was surprised by the venomous reply. "Scott?"

The silence stretched on. This time Virgil had no problem remaining attentive. Scott was so tense that Virgil feared he might actually break the shot glass he was holding, white-knuckled, in his hand. When Scott finally spoke, it was in a voice so low that Virgil had to strain to hear it. "It works."

"Huh? What works?"

"The damn device works, Virgil."

"No... it can't. Brains said it didn't?" Virgil was thoroughly confused, not just by the conversation, but also by Scott's obvious anger.

"No, Brains never said it didn't work. He said it couldn't be fine-tuned enough to be useful. Dad said if it wasn't precise enough to get us there after the call was made he didn't want to risk it."

Feeling as if he were in some science fiction movie, Virgil replied. "I can understand that. If we started showing up before the distress call was even made and people are going to know something is up. All sorts of people will be trying to get our secrets. God, can you imagine the damage a guy like the Hood could cause if he had access to a time machine?"

Scott seemed oblivious to Virgil's question. He said as if to himself, "I don't need it to be precise. I just need to target a nine month period."

Realization hit Virgil like a ton of bricks. "Oh my God... Mom."

"Yes, Mom. All I need is to hit anytime while she was pregnant with Alan. Just one shot of Clonpinedinex."

"Scott... you can't..."

"The Hell I can't."

Virgil's head was whirling. "Okay, okay... let's say you go back and save Mom. What makes you think things would be any better?"

"Virg, I can save Mom. Do you understand? I can save Mom! Why are you arguing?"

"That's not fair, Scott, and you know it. Give me some time here. I have to think."

Scott wasn't inclined to give Virgil the time. In a whisper he said, "I've already tried."

The color drained from Virgil's face. "You already tried? You used that device? Oh my God, Scott, you could have been killed or lost in time or God knows what else!"

"Obviously I wasn't, Virg."

Virgil felt his face redden as his anger flared. "You think that makes it all right? You think just because you made it back this time that makes it okay? Geezus, Scott! What do you think would have happened to the rest of us if you hadn't made it back?"

"Calm down, Virgil. You're going to wake up the entire household."

Virgil sat stunned, staring at his brother in disbelief. Only Scott would deliver such mind shattering news and expect him to remain cool and collected. In a voice like cold death, Virgil said, "You're not going to try again."

Scott responded as if the flat statement were a question. "No. Not again."

It took Virgil only a moment to register the pain, the despair in that soft remark. The anger drained out of him as concern for his brother filled him up. "What happened?"

"The first time I tried..."

"Wait! The first time? You've tried more than once?"

"Yeah. At least a couple dozen times. The first few times it seemed to be okay. I mean, I missed the mark, but everything else seemed normal."

"What do you mean normal?"

"Like I was saying, the first time I landed up in John's bedroom. When he was five."

"When... oh, no! You? You were John's boogeyman?"

"Virgil, I felt so damn bad. I landed up in his bedroom. Before I could so much as move, he woke up and started screaming bloody murder."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Virgil couldn't help but smile. "As I recall, Johnny had a rather piercing scream."

"My ears are still ringing. I hit the return button before Dad could show up. I imagine from John's point of view I simply disappeared. I don't know why, but for the first few tries, I kept landing up in his bedroom on different nights."

"Um, you didn't ever land up in my closet, did you?"

For the first time, Scott glanced over at his brother, a wry smile on his face. "No, just John's room. The last time, he was waiting for me. He had a baseball bat, and I'll tell you, if I was just a tick slower, you'd be minus a brother right now."

"Oh, God, now that you say it, I think I remember Johnny telling me he had chased the boogeyman away. You know, it really did him good in the long run. He learned to face his fears instead of running."

Still smiling, Scott once again toasted the night sky. Virgil waited as his brother tossed back yet another shot of scotch. This time he couldn't restrain himself. "Scott, I want to hear what happened. Knock off the booze until you've told me, will ya? I don't want you passing out in the middle of this."

Scott's brow lowered, and Virgil froze, hoping he hadn't pushed too far. Scott froze for a moment also, but then let out a breath that seemed to drain away his anger as well as relax his tense body. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Virg. I know I have to knock off the liquor, the late nights, but I just can't stop thinking about it."

Virgil relaxed too. He knew his brother, and knew that talking about the situation would ease a lot of his stress. "Forget it, Scott. Just tell me what happened. Did you ever make it back to when Mom was pregnant?"

"Yes, and no. The first time I made it to the right time period was perfect, actually. It was Gordon's first birthday. You remember that?"

"The blue icing, right?"

"Yeah, the cake was decorated with Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. I'll tell you, it was even funnier now than it was then. I mean, Gordon was amazing. He had that icing everywhere. He was covered head to foot in blue icing, just as happy as could be. When I got there the little booger was shoving cake down his diapers."

"Ahhh! I remember that! He was always putting things in his diaper! Oh, I haven't thought of that for years. I remember one time he had about seven Hot Wheels shoved down there. Johnny and I chased him all over the house trying to get them."

The two brothers laughed at the memory. Virgil finally asked curiously, "So, did you give her the shot?"

"No. There was something I hadn't planned on."

"What?"

"Dad. I don't know why it didn't occur to me, but Dad was my age when Alan was born. I got there, and I saw him, and it was even a bigger shock than seeing Mom. I realized if I made any move on Mom, Dad would clean my clock. I didn't want to risk a fight with him. Even if I could take him, I could have hurt him, and who knows what that would have meant to the future?"

Virgil had stopped breathing, barely hearing most of what Scott said. "You saw Mom?"

Scott looked his brother in the eye, a wealth of empathy on his own features. "Yeah. She looked so wonderful, so full of life. You don't even realize how much you forget over the years. She was laughing at Gordon, and trying to clean him up, and talking to us, all at the same time. It killed me to leave, but I was afraid someone would turn around and spot me standing outside the window."

Virgil lowered his head. "Scott, I... I want to go see her. Just once. I just want to see her once. Like you did."

With something like a moan, Scott got up from his chaise and moved to perch on Virgil's. "I know. I wish you could. You and Johnny both, but I don't think it's possible."

"What do you mean, not possible? You did it, why can't I?"

Again, Virgil's voice was raised in anger. Scott shushed him, looking toward the house. "Quiet down. I'll tell you. I think... I think I broke it."

"You broke Brains' time machine? How?"

"After that one time when I had my chance but didn't take it everything went... I don't know... weird."

"Weird? In what way?"

"Okay, well the next time I tried, I was way off the mark. Johnny was about thirteen and Alan was about nine. You were in Juvenile Hall, I had run away, and Gordon had died in an accident when he was four. Dad was this emotional cripple who beat us when he wasn't ignoring us. I swear, Virg, it scared me spitless. I thought it was something I had done the previous time, and that I had permanently ruined all of our lives."

"Um, why was I in Juvie?"

"Selling drugs at school. Dad had you declared incorrigible. You were supposed to be incarcerated until you were twenty-five. And I could tell Johnny was following in your footsteps. It just about broke my heart to see him wasted like that."

"And Alan?"

"I know this sounds weird, but he was just the way I remember him at nine."

"Okay, so it must have been some kind of parallel universe or something."

"Yeah. I almost couldn't believe it when I made it home and everything was normal."

"I don't know, Scott. If you changed something, and it changed us, would you necessarily realize it? I mean, maybe we were way different before you left. How would you know?"

"God, Virg, my head hurts enough as it is. I don't even want to think about anything like that."

"Okay, it was just an idea. So you think the time machine moves you in time and dimension now?"

"Sometimes time, sometimes dimension, sometimes both. I tried a bunch of times and each time something was off. For instance, I'm becoming convinced that this is one of the only dimensions where Gordon made it through to adulthood. In most of them, he dies in a swimming accident as a four-year-old. I found one dimension where he made it through, but he landed up crippled in the hydrofoil accident."

"I'm glad we're in this dimension then."

"You better believe it! You don't do a hell of a lot better. You land up either in prison, or a junkie most times. You just wasted your life. John makes it through, but in most places he's an emotional cripple. In one, he has a wife and kids, but he beats them. He's just not a good person."

"Does Mom survive in any of them?"

"Yes and no. In the universes where she survives Alan's birth, she dies two years later giving birth to Wally."

"Wally?"

"Yeah. Named after Walter Schirra."

"And I thought Virgil was bad."

"I wish we could have had him in this universe. You should have seen him. The spitting image of Gordon, but with your talent. One place I went to a recital with you on the piano and Wally on the violin. It just made me cry not to have had a chance to know him."

Scott's voice had dropped to a sad murmur. Virgil could feel his brother's exhaustion in his own bones, but he didn't know what to say, how to fix it. The two brothers fell silent in the cool night. After a while, Virgil stirred. "Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For trying. For us all."

"I don't know if I should have, Virg. I don't know if it would have been better not to know... not to have seen..."

"Scott, you wouldn't be the man you are if you hadn't at least tried. You think you wouldn't have been out here night after night trying to drink yourself to oblivion if you hadn't tried? You would have, you know it. You would have gone crazy knowing there was a chance you could fix things. But now, you've tried, and you've found out you can't. Now it's time to let it go."

Virgil grasped Scott's shoulder, trying to impart his belief that it was over. Scott sighed deeply, then nodded. "I don't know, Virg, but I think this universe IS the fix. As much as I want Mom, I'm not willing to trade Gordon for her. Or you, or anyone else."

"So what do you say we go to bed now?"

"Yeah." Scott slowly and carefully got to his feet. "Yeah, let's go to bed."

Virgil got up and put a steadying arm over his brother's shoulders. "Oh, on the way, I need to stop in on Gordon."

"Gordon? Why?"

"Just a little matter of sticking a wet thumb in his ear."

Scott's eyebrows climbed, but he made no reply as the two brothers made their weary way back to the house.