PINK FEATHERS by JULES RATED FRPT

Brothers can have their moments, especially when the practical joker of the family is up to no good. A certain Tracy never imagined, though, that the distress Gordon would cause him would be for a whole different reason.

Anyone For Tennis?

The two men faced each other across the tennis court. It was match point to the server. He took a ball from his pocket and bounced it a couple of times on the ground. Then he peered closely at it and brushed off a speck of imaginary dirt. He prepared himself, threw the ball high and then hit it hard. It smashed into the net. He cursed. He took another ball from his pocket and readied himself to serve again.

Waiting to receive the serve, Gordon bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. He had no idea how the game had got to this state of affairs. Usually, he had little trouble beating Virgil at tennis. Virgil had viciously powerful serves but that was the only advantage to his game. Gordon, on the other hand, had a major plus in the agility stakes and found he could usually tire his big brother out by running around the court faster and longer than him. If that failed, he resorted to a non-stop verbal commentary which usually irritated Virgil enough to put him off his game.

Today, unfortunately for Gordon, Virgil was focused and determined. Gordon didn't like this state of mind in Virgil. On rescues it was a huge bonus but back at Base he preferred it when Virgil was relaxed and laid-back as it made him a whole lot easier to deal with and meant he was an easy victim to Gordon's practical jokes.

"I've got you rattled, admit it?" Gordon suggested hopefully. Virgil didn't reply. He served and hit the ball with such force that Gordon barely saw it land in the service box, bounce up and whistle passed his ear. There was a clink as the ball hit the wire fence behind him. Gordon looked across at Virgil. Virgil appeared surprised at the shot but when he saw Gordon watching him he quickly changed his expression to smug.

"Game, set and match!" he said cheerfully. He walked across the court grinning from ear to ear and held his hand over the net for Gordon to shake. Gordon walked over to him and shook the proffered hand.

"Not bad for an old guy," said Gordon.

"Leave the 'old guy' cracks for Scott."

"Okay, not bad for a fat guy."

"Fat? This is all muscle, skinny butt."

"You got lucky."

"Luck had nothing to do with it. I'm just a better player than you."

"You wish!"

Virgil was still smiling. "Just accept your defeat gracefully. That's 200 bucks you owe me."

"We said 100!"

"It was definitely 200. Cash would be good but I'd accept a bank transfer as long as it's in my account by tomorrow."

"Double or quits?"

"In your dreams. Just pay up and shut up." Virgil strode off the court with a barely-concealed swagger. Gordon watched him go with narrow eyes. Oh, he'd pay his smart-ass brother back alright and soon.

Pink Feathers

Two days later and Virgil had spent a constructive morning in Brains' lab with his head bent over a circuit board. During a recent rescue they had had problems getting the Laser Cutter Vehicle out of pod 2. They initially hadn't been able to release it from the clamps that secured it to the pod floor during the flight. Brute force had got the vehicle into action eventually but a solution needed to be found for the future. Virgil had presumed it to be a mechanical problem and had spent a fruitless day tinkering with the release mechanism. He got Brains along for his opinion and the two of them had tracked the problem down to a 10 centimetre rectangle circuit board. A component on the circuit board had disintegrated, melting a hole through the board. The failed thyrister had prevented the mechanics from working.

In Brains' lab, Virgil had replaced the component and resoldered new links and enjoyed a couple of hours having the software versus hardware discussion that he and Brains indulged in periodically. Virgil was always complaining that the software crashed more often than the beautifully constructed hardware but Brains maintained that all Virgil's hardware was run by a software program in some way and he should stop complaining. They never reached a conclusion but just enjoyed the argument and left it at that.

Now Virgil was walking down the hallway to the kitchen. His stomach told him it was lunchtime.

"Whatcha doing?"

Virgil turned at the sound of his elder brother's voice. Scott always had to know what he was doing. He had learned to live with it. He tossed the board to Scott.

"That little beauty will no longer be stopping us getting equipment out of the pod."

"You fixed it?"

"Of course. And now I'm going to get some food. Coming?"

"Don't you think you ought to reinstall the board first?"

"No, I think I ought to have lunch first."

"But Virgil, if there's a call-out it would be better to get the board in first."

"You think there's going to be a call-out in the next twenty minutes while I eat my lunch?"

"Could be. Come on, it'll only take five minutes to slot it back in."

"Yeh, and another hour to put all the flooring back."

"Quit complaining, I'll give you a hand."

"You ever get bored of being conscientious?" enquired Virgil.

"Nope. Glad you appreciate me."

"I didn't say that."

"You said I was conscientious."

"That wasn't a compliment."

The two continued to bicker amiably as they took the lift to the pod storage bay. Eager to get to lunch, Virgil was ahead of Scott as they approached pod 2. Virgil stepped inside and then halted in surprise as a huge glob of something sticky landed on his head. The sticky goo started to run down his arms and the front and back of his shirt. Virgil was about to react when a single feather floated down from the ceiling of the pod and stuck to the goo on his shoulder. Virgil looked at it. Then he looked up. The feather had been a hint of what was to come. Suddenly, what seemed like a ton of feathers dropped from the ceiling on top of him. Worse than that, these weren't ordinary feathers, they were bright pink, fluffy feathers, the sort of ones that Lady Penelope might have on a feather boa when visiting the Swinging Star nightclub. The feathers fixed themselves onto the goo and Virgil was instantly covered in them from head to toe. Then a blinding flash went off. Virgil looked into the middle of the pod and saw a camera dangling from the ceiling, pointing directly at where he stood. Virgil felt anger rising within him. Gordon!

"He is dead meat. Today is the day that Gordon dies," Virgil stated as calmly as his anger would allow. Behind him Scott was chuckling.

"Oh come off it, Virg, you've got to admit that was good. One of his better ones, in fact."

"And would you be saying that if you had gone into the pod first?

Scott didn't reply to that so Virgil spoke again.

"Just go take a look at the camera and see if it's a stand-alone one. If it is, bring it here so I can smash it."

Scott squeezed passed Virgil, keen not to get any of the goo and feathers on himself. He examined the camera and then glanced around. He went to look at something else in the gloom of the pod and then went back to Virgil trying, and failing, to keep a grin off his face.

"No luck. The camera's Bluetoothed to a laptop which is connected to the network. Gordon will have emailed that picture around the globe by now."

Virgil's expression may well have darkened even more at this point but it was hard for Scott to tell because of the pink feathers stuck to Virgil's face. He could tell, however, that Virgil appeared to be shaking with anger.

"Looks like we're going to need a new aquanaut," said Virgil threateningly.

"Calm down, Virg, it's just a joke."

"It's one joke too many. His final one, in fact."

"Look, we haven't had a rescue needing Thunderbird 4 in a while. Gordo's just bored and you know how restless he gets when he's bored."

"But why me? Why does he always take it out on me?"

"Brotherly love," snickered Scott and then instantly regretted it. He realised now that Virgil was seriously wound up and he needed to calm him down before he took his anger out on something important. Like the pod. Or Gordon. "Just go grab a shower and then get some lunch. I'll slot the board back in."

"I'll kill him."

"Shower then food. Then I'll help you put that flooring back and we'll work out how to exact your revenge."

"You can't exact revenge on a dead man," replied Virgil ominously and trudged off towards the shower. As he walked, pink feathers occasionally floated off him onto the hangar floor. Scott quickly went back into the pod so that Virgil wouldn't hear him laughing.

Half an hour later Virgil stomped into the kitchen. It had taken some time to get the sticky stuff out of his hair. Around the table Scott, Gordon and Alan were eating lunch. Virgil frowned at the sight of Gordon.

"Hey, Virgil," said Gordon, "Rob loved the photo. He thinks you look great in pink." Virgil frowned even more at the mention of one of their friends who had lived down the road from them when they were growing up in Kansas.

"You sent the picture to Rob?" asked Virgil, his anger apparent again.

"Let me take another look," said Alan, laughing as he reached for the printout on the table in front of him. Virgil stalked across the room to Gordon, obviously as mad as hell.

"Of all your little jokes, that was the most infantile," stated Virgil.

Gordon looked surprised. He had expected Virgil to take it better than this. Virgil came towards him, his body language threatening. Virgil reached Gordon and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauling him up out of his chair.

"Let go!" yelped Gordon.

Scott, across the table, recognised the signs and realised that Virgil was just about to be on the wrong side of in control. He started to get to his feet to restrain his younger brother. He spoke in a soft, warning tone.

"Virgil...."

Virgil paused in mid-yank. After a few seconds he shoved Gordon back in his seat. Then he picked up Gordon's bowl of apple pie and ice-cream, tipped it upside-down and dumped it unceremoniously onto Gordon's head.

"Who needs a shower, now, pool-boy?" he growled. He turned on his heel and walked smartly out of the kitchen.

Virgil, his mind no longer on food, stormed out of the house and out across the Island. He was so angry he didn't trust himself to stay near the house and not kill Gordon.

The Trouble With Gordon

Virgil generally had a lot of time for his water-obsessed younger brother. Like himself, Gordon was laid-back and enjoyed a joke. Despite only being in his twenties, Gordon had been through some difficult times in his life. His Olympic glory had not come without many years of preparation and training which Gordon had committed himself to despite the fact it meant missing out on some of the high-spirited antics of his teenage peers.

Gordon's hydrofoil accident had also taken its toll and meant several operations on his back and months in hospital. These Gordon had borne stoically and without self-pity which had impressed Virgil immensely.

Gordon was also an expert oceanographer. Virgil had no interest or awareness of the immense world beneath the waves but that did not mean he didn't appreciate Gordon's proficiency in the area. Gordon would try and explain to him some of the mysteries of the deep, keen to pass on his knowledge, and he would do this without arrogance or condescension making Virgil feel enthused at what he was learning rather than embarrassed by his lack of understanding.

Right now, though, Virgil hated Gordon from the depths of his soul. He knew Gordon had been cross when Virgil had beaten him at tennis but he had been the butt of many of Gordon's jokes in the last few months and it had started to wear thin. Gordon had made him look a fool too many times and he was so angry he wanted to hold his stupid brother's head under the water in his precious pool until he stopped struggling. Virgil realised this was not a healthy state of mind to be in and kept walking until he could trust himself to go back to the house and not hurt anyone. Although his raw anger soon dissipated, his annoyance at Gordon did not.

On the whole, Virgil was not big on wasting energy. He seldom bothered to get angry but, when he did, he expressed it with the same force that a volcano expresses lava. Usually, though, he got over it pretty quickly and returned to a state of being so laid-back he could fall asleep during dinner. He was also not big on bearing grudges. Being mad at someone over an extended period of time was a definite energy drainer so he rarely bothered with it. Gordon relied on this when he played jokes on Virgil. On this occasion, though, Virgil could not get over his irritation. For the next two days he refused to speak to Gordon. He glowered at him whenever he came close and, if it was necessary to impart some information to Gordon, he made Alan pass on the message.

It was stupid, childish behaviour that everyone, not least Gordon, ignored to start off with. Finally, Scott realised he would have to do something. The bad atmosphere between his two brothers was easy to overlook on the Island but Scott realised that if Virgil carried this feud into a rescue then it could be, quite frankly, dangerous. He decided he had to talk with Virgil and tracked him down sitting on some rocks not far from the Round House.

Scott clambered over the rocks towards him and saw Virgil staring into the distance. Virgil had a sketchbook and pencil in his lap and the crumpled balls of paper around him told of a fruitless morning's drawing.

"Whatcha doing?" asked Scott. Virgil looked over at Scott, his expression explaining nothing of what he was feeling. Then he pointed into the distance.

"Trying to pin down the relationship between that rock, the sea and the sky."

Scott followed his gaze.

"Uh-huh," he replied, trying to sound like he understood what Virgil had just said even though the sum total of his own artistic leanings was doodling during boring vid-conferences. "So...," he continued, "...going to forgive Gordon anytime soon?"

"Doesn't look like it."

"Lighten up, Virgil, it was just a joke."

"A joke he shared with the world."

"He promises me he only emailed it to Rob, no-one else."

"That's more than enough."

"You know Rob, he'll have forgotten it by now," persisted Scott.

"Maybe, but what if he showed it to Amy?"

"Amy? His sister? Gawky kid with a retainer?"

"She grew up," replied Virgil.

Light dawned on Scott's face. "Is she hot?"

"Oh yes." Virgil then fixed Scott with a look and prodded his chest to make his point. "And I saw her first."

Scott held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I was just asking. Is that why you're so upset?"

Virgil looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not really but it doesn't help. God knows it's hard enough to meet a woman doing this job without Gordon shutting down any avenues of possibility I might be working on."

"I'm sure Gordon had no idea."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

"Look, if this is all just over a woman...."

"It's not! I'm just sick of Gordon's infantile, immature...." Virgil appeared to be struggling for the next insulting word.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You gotta let it go, Virgil."

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

Virgil had just taken a breath to reply angrily to Scott when a sound reached them. The emergency klaxon warning of an impending rescue was blaring out across the Island. Simultaneously their wrist comms started to bleep with the emergency signal. There was no need for words as the two leapt to their feet and scrambled back over the rocks.

Sparks

"Alan, tell Gordon he needs to get in the pod and get the Fire Truck ready."

Alan sighed at Virgil's request. He was heartily sick and tired of being piggy-in-the-middle between Virgil and Gordon. The three of them were in Thunderbird 2's cockpit, nearing the danger zone. Gordon could hear what Virgil was saying perfectly well so Alan merely turned to Gordon and raised his eyebrows. Gordon was also heartily sick and tired of the fact that Virgil seemed to have lost his sense of humour. He got to his feet and started to leave the cockpit. As he did, he voiced his own opinion.

"Alan, tell Virgil that he can stick a nitro shell up..."

Alan was already on his feet and hustling Gordon out through the door.

"I'll go help Gordon," he said loudly over his shoulder to Virgil, covering up the end of Gordon's sentence. Heading towards the pod, Gordon angrily shook Alan's hands off him.

International Rescue had been called to a power station in central England. The power station used co-firing of biomass to generate 3,500 mega watts of electricity. A military aircraft from a nearby RAF air-base had got into difficulties soon after take-off and crashed into the central turbine area of the plant. The turbine was housed in a strongly reinforced concrete building that was built to withstand a light aircraft ploughing into it. Unfortunately, it couldn't withstand a C-30 Globemaster transporter loaded with explosives heading for a destination that the British Government wasn't about to disclose anytime in the next 30 years.

Loss of life had begun from the outset. The two pilots had left their ejection from their plane too late as they wrestled with the controls to steer it away from the power station. There had been several plant employees, working in the vicinity of the turbines, who had also perished at the time of the crash. There was also staff working near the generator and condenser, and the rescue efforts needed to be directed towards them as they were now trapped by fires and collapsed buildings and equipment.

While on-site emergency services were able to make the machinery safe, International Rescue's efforts were directed towards the rescue of the trapped men and women. Scott set up Mobile Control and began to manage his team and equipment. He wasted valuable time ensuring that Virgil and Gordon both worked alone or with Alan rather than each other and cursed himself for not addressing the situation sooner. He felt that both of them were too professional to carry their grievances into a rescue but, on the other hand, he had an inbuilt need to minimise risks and there were enough sparks flying around the danger zone without his brothers adding to them.

International Rescue carried out their part of the rescue speedily and efficiently. Everything went to plan, which made a nice change, and Virgil was pleased when he finally parked the Mole in pod 2. He walked back down the ramp and was about to call up Scott to find out if he had finished for the day when a flash of blue and orange caught his eye. He saw Gordon heading in his direction on foot. Gordon had been working with Alan using the Fire Tender and was presumably looking to get a supplementary piece of equipment out of the pod.

Virgil watched Gordon thoughtfully. There was nothing like a rescue to put things into perspective. Perhaps he should proffer the olive branch of peace? Perhaps not. He was still pondering this point when an earth-shattering bang blasted his ear drums. Virgil watched in horror as the small outbuilding, which Gordon was walking passed, exploded. The force of the blast lifted Gordon into the air and flung him to the ground several metres away. Debris rained down on him.

"NO!" Virgil didn't recognise his own voice as the scream was wrenched from his throat. He stood shocked and transfixed for a moment. Then his legs began to move and he ran full pelt towards the inert form of Gordon. He skidded to a halt next to his brother and dropped to his knees.

"Gordon, Gordon, are you okay?" Gordon?" There was no reply, no movement. Virgil thumped his wrist comm into action.

"Scott, get an ambulance to the pod. Gordon's been hurt." Scott gave an acknowledgment which Virgil scarcely heard. He looked at Gordon, hating the stillness in his usually active brother. First aid! He had to check Gordon over. He did this to people on rescues all the time. Why was it suddenly so hard to remember what to do? Breathing? Yep. Pulse? Weak but steady, good. Anything obviously bleeding? A piece of debris had managed to have a fair impact on the side of Gordon's head and it was bleeding profusely. Virgil pulled off his sash and managed to fashion a sort of pressure bandage to stem the flow of blood. Anything broken? Gordon's left arm looked to be at a bit of an odd angle. What about his back? What if his back was injured again? Unable to think of anything else to do, apart from worry, Virgil sat back and waited for the ambulance.

Operation

Scott and Alan arrived shortly before the ambulance. Virgil explained what had happened and then concentrated on Gordon, leaving Scott to get in touch with the rest of the family. When the paramedics arrived, Virgil chivvied them into hurrying up and gave them a run-down on Gordon's current and previous injuries, making sure they knew to lift him carefully onto the stretcher so as not to jar his back. He made a thorough nuisance of himself and insisted on going in the ambulance to the hospital. Scott organised a police car for himself and Alan to follow the ambulance.

At the hospital, Gordon was taken into an ER room and the brothers were made to wait outside. Virgil paced, Scott spoke with a senior member of staff to sort out proper security arrangements to protect their anonymity whilst they were there, which left Alan to fill in several long, dull forms on Gordon's behalf.

After what seemed like a long time a doctor, who looked to be in his late-teens but presumably had at least made it through medical school, came out to address them.

"Your colleague is still unconscious but breathing on his own. We are a bit worried about his head wound. We are going to take him for a scan and then up to surgery."

"An operation? Why?" demanded Virgil, before Scott had a chance to speak.

"Well, we think the scan will show us a fracture to both his left arm and skull. We want to do some re-setting of the arm and a little work on the head wound."

"Is an operation really necessary?" asked Alan.

"We have a top class team of surgeons here and we wish to do the very best for your colleague. If International Rescue is going to keep on saving lives we need to make sure our patient is not only well but recovers full use of all his faculties."

"So, he'll be back to full health after the operation?" asked Scott.

"Well..." started the doctor. Another doctor joined them. This one looked a little more senior with a few flecks of grey in the hair above his ears.

"We can't be sure," he stated cautiously. "The patient has suffered severe head trauma. The effects of concussion can be quite serious. I would say we will re-evaluate after the operation and see where we are."

"Which means?" asked Virgil.

"Which means....we will have to be patient. He is young and strong and there is the finest medical care here. He has the best chance possible." Platitudes. Meaningless words. Virgil turned away, not wishing to hear more. Scott frowned at his brother's departing back.

"Thank you, doctor," he said, courteously.

"The nurse will show you to a waiting area upstairs. Be assured, we have no intention of being the hospital that let a member of International Rescue die."

With that, the two doctors left. Scott and Alan looked at each other.

"He'll be okay, right?" asked Alan.

"He's a stubborn son-of-a-gun, you know that. He's faced this sort of thing before. I think Gordon's got nine lives. Reckon he must be down to 7 by now but he's got a way to go yet before we've seen the last of him."

"Yeh, yeh," agreed Alan readily, happy to soothed by Scott's optimism. Scott looked after Virgil who was wandering down the corridor. Virgil would not be so easily placated.

"Stay here, Al. I'll be right back." Scott jogged after Virgil. When he reached him, he put his hand on Virgil's shoulder to pull him back around.

"Virg, we have to go to some waiting area."

Virgil swung around to face him and Scott was shocked by the expression of terror he saw there.

"Virgil? Are you okay? They're doing everything they can for him. Gordon'll be okay."

"But what if he's not? You heard what that doctor said. Wait and see."

"He's strong, he's..."

Virgil interrupted. "I didn't mean it, all that stuff I said after the feathers thing. I said I was going to kill him, that I wanted him dead. I didn't mean it, none of it!"

Scott's mouth dropped open. He had all but forgotten Virgil's dire threats in the pod a few days earlier.

"Of course you didn't, don't be silly. You were just mad. We all say stuff like that when we're angry."

"But I said such nasty things and then, the last few days, I've just been ignoring him. I've been stupid, so stupid. What if he dies, Scott? What if he dies thinking I hate him?"

"He doesn't think that and he won't die," replied Scott fiercely. "He knew you guys were just having a quarrel and he knew you'd get over it. Anyway, he never heard those threats you made."

"But what if he does die? I'll never forgive myself."

"You're jumping ahead of yourself, way ahead. Gordo's alive. We have to concentrate on that."

"Scott...." The despair in Virgil's voice tore at Scott's heart. He sounded like a little kid again. Scott, well used to being cool and in control, suddenly had the urge to throw his arms around his brother and tell him it would all be okay. At the same time he was very aware of their International Rescue uniforms and the public place they were in. He knew that people couldn't help staring at them in the same way they stared at film stars.

"Now listen up, Virgil. Gordon will be fine, okay? If he isn't, we'll deal with it when it happens." There was a catch in Scott's voice as he spoke but he continued, trying to sound like a Field Commander. "We need to get out of the ER and get to this waiting room so that the doctors know where to find us. We need to be aware of everything that's happening to Gordon so we can fully brief Dad when he and the others arrive. And, finally, we have to keep it together so that we uphold the honour of International Rescue and don't scare the crap out of the baby who, as you well know, idolises Gordon for reasons known only to himself. Okay? Okay, Virgil?"

Virgil finally looked Scott in the eye. After a moment he glanced past Scott to the worried-looking Alan and then looked back into the determined face of his elder brother.

"Okay," he agreed quietly, although, at that moment, Virgil very much doubted whether anything would ever be okay again.

Waiting

The wait was interminable. The room that the brothers had been provided with was small, although pleasantly furnished. The three strapping men filled it and they soon got fed up with tripping over each other. Scott kept himself busy keeping track of the rest of the family's journey to the hospital. He spoke many times to John who, on Thunderbird 5, was feeling frustrated and useless. He dealt with the members of hospital management who couldn't resist coming to introduce themselves to their important visitors. Alan was in charge of the coffee run, making sure everyone had a hot cup to keep them going. Virgil stared at a mark on the floor, barely acknowledging anyone.

Finally, a tired looking man in scrubs arrived in the room. The brothers leapt to their feet in anticipation.

"We've moved him to Intensive Care."

"How is he?" asked Scott.

"Well, we've patched up his wounds and plastered his arm which had a small fracture. I know you were worried about his back but the scan showed that the work that has been done on it previously has not been damaged so that isn't an issue."

"Great, just great," Scott couldn't help but say with relief.

"Can we see him? Is he awake?" asked Virgil.

"Well...no he isn't. The main problem is the wound inflicted on his skull. Your colleague is currently in a coma. He is responding to some stimuli but we will have to play a waiting game for now. I hope your friend will come around soon but nothing is absolute with head trauma."

"His name is Gordon," said Alan, irritated by how dispassionately the surgeon was talking about his brother.

"Gordon. Right. Well, you can go and look at him but don't expect too much."

The brothers were taken to the Intensive Care ward and shown into Gordon's room. Gordon appeared to be wired up to just about every machine in the hospital. He was breathing without a ventilator but that was as much as could be said for him. He had a thick white bandage around his head and a cast on his arm. Here and there were dotted other repairs to small cuts. Gordon was completely still apart from the rise and fall of his chest. The three looked at him, words seeming pointless. Virgil spotted a chair by the head of the bed. He sat down in it and decided he wasn't moving from it until Gordon was better.

Not long after, the others arrived. Kyrano had stayed at Tracy Island but Jeff, Grandma, Tin Tin and Brains had all made the trip. Scott found himself demoted to second-in-command as his father took over, quizzing the doctors and dealing with the security and administration of Gordon's admission to the hospital. Alan was reassured by Tin Tin's arrival and allowed her to slip her hand into his and murmur encouraging words in his ear. Grandma decided it was time her grandsons ate and, after tutting loudly at a nearby vending machine, went in search of 'proper food'. Virgil hardly noticed his family's presence.

A couple of hours later, Scott went into Gordon's room to speak to Virgil. His eyes flicked over the body of his ginger-haired brother but he could not bear to let them linger on the motionless form.

"Virgil, we have to get the Thunderbirds back to Base."

There were a few seconds pause before Virgil stirred himself and looked in puzzlement at Scott.

"What?" he asked, vaguely.

"Thunderbird 2. We have to get her home."

"Screw Thunderbird 2." Virgil suddenly registered the shock on Scott's face and mentally rewound to find out what he had said to so astonish his elder brother. "Oh, yeh, right. What I meant was that Alan is perfectly capable of piloting Thunderbird 2 back to Base. No, delete that, you are perfectly capable of piloting Thunderbird 2. Alan's used to Thunderbird 1. Let him fly her."

"You're not coming, then?"

"No." Virgil seemed pretty definite in his reply. Scott stood up and walked over to the door, more worried than ever. Virgil's voice stopped him.

"Not a scratch on her and you know I'll check. And that port-side ram-jet needs babying for the first 2 minutes after take-off."

The touch of normality from Virgil made Scott give an inward sigh of relief. Virgil was just worried, they all were. Gordon would be fine. He was like a rubber ball, he just kept bouncing back. There was no way Gordon would die. He wouldn't let it happen. But deep down, Scott knew that Gordon's condition was one of those things that he had to accept was outside of his control and Scott didn't like not being in control as things usually went wrong when he wasn't.

Virgil's Vigil

Despite efforts from his family to move him, Virgil insisted on staying by Gordon's bedside. The guilt monster had Virgil by the throat and wouldn't let him go. He figured that the least he could do was watch over Gordon if that would make a difference to his chance of recovery. Maybe it would encourage Gordon to wake up just so he could continue their argument. Whatever the case, Virgil felt he had to be there and, apart from trips to the restroom, the seat by Gordon's bed became his world.

The family were well used to Virgil's stubbornness and, in the end, worked around him as they alternated spending time with Gordon and getting some rest back at the hotel a few blocks away where Jeff had reserved some suites. Virgil was lost in thought most of the time and didn't even comment when both Alan and John appeared in Gordon's room at the same time, Scott presumably having decided that John should be brought back from Thunderbird 5.

After a couple of days, one of the nurses took pity on the man sitting by her patient's bed. She had already worked out that there must be some familial connection between the two but had been instructed by her manager not to pry.

"You should talk to him, you know."

"Sorry?" replied Virgil.

"Talk to him while you're sitting there."

"But he's in a coma," said Virgil, puzzled.

"Coma patients can often be aware of what's going on around them. It's important that he hears the voices of people who care for him. That may help him make the right decision."

"The right decision?"

"About whether there's anything worth waking up for."

"Oh...right..." Virgil stared at the still form of Gordon, wondering whether Gordon would consider Virgil a particularly good reason to wake up for right now. Still, anything was worth a try and it sure beat sitting around doing nothing.

Virgil was generally not prone to speaking unless he had something to say. He left the verbal diarrhoea to Alan and Scott. To start with he had no idea what to say to Gordon, especially since he was so used to Gordon wise-cracking back. He began by telling Gordon about the hospital and why he was there, reminding him of what had happened on the rescue and describing the hospital room they were in. Then he moved onto his hopes that Scott and Alan had got Thunderbird 2 back to Base in one piece despite their assurances that they had. This then brought him on to providing Gordon with a long description of some refit work that he and Brains were going to do on his beloved Thunderbird machine.

By the next day, despite various interruptions by the rest of the family, Virgil had run out of things to say. On the way to get coffee he had come across a newspaper so he had picked it up and, by late evening, had read The Times cover to cover to Gordon. The next day Grandma had insisted that he go for a walk out of the hospital and he had happened across a bookshop. Rifling through the shelves he came across a high-school text on marine biology. He decided that a badly written, ill-conceived and inaccurate book on Gordon's favourite subject would be bound to irritate Gordon enough to bring him around.

It was mid-afternoon and Virgil was alone with Gordon and halfway through a chapter on "Marine organisms: functions and environment" when Virgil became aware of a gentle coughing. He looked up sharply, realising the sound must have come from Gordon. The book slid to the floor as Virgil leaned towards Gordon's bed.

"Gordon? Gordon? It's Virgil. Wake up."

Gordon's lips looked like they were trying to form words but no sounds came out. He coughed again and this time was able to speak. It was only a whisper and Virgil put his ear close to his brother's face, eager not to miss anything Gordon had to say. With enormous effort Gordon managed to push the words out that he had been longing to articulate.

"Shut up," said Gordon.

Virgil sat back. Suddenly a big grin covered his face. He had never been so glad to have Gordon insult him in his whole life.

Gordon's Dream

Gordon's desire for peace and quiet was not satisfied for some time after that. Nurses, doctors and the family all descended on his room after his whispered words. Tests were carried out and Gordon was declared to be over the worst with every possibility of a full recovery in time.

Twenty-four hours later Virgil and Gordon were alone together again. Gordon had progressed to sitting up in bed and was able to talk, although he was easily tired.

"You told me to shut up, you know, when you first came out of the coma," said Virgil, teasingly.

"Did I? Well, I was trying to get some sleep and it seemed very noisy in here," replied Gordon.

"You were trying to sleep and we were trying to wake you up."

"I had a dream," stated Gordon.

"If this is one of those mermaid ones, I really don't want to hear it," said Virgil.

"It wasn't."

"Okay, go on."

"I was in Thunderbird 4. I guess we must have been on a rescue. I was sitting in the cockpit when I saw this amazing sea creature outside. Well, I couldn't actually see the creature itself but it had this wonderful bluish-white light around it which was really bright. It was fascinating and I knew I had to go out there and find out what it was. I put on my diving gear and went to the rear hatch. I was just flooding the airlock when I heard your voice on the comms. I thought you needed some information about the rescue or you were in trouble or something. Anyway, I knew I had to go back to the cockpit and talk to you." Gordon coughed a little, still finding talking hard work. "The next thing I remember I was back at the hatch and again I heard your voice and knew I had to deal with you before I could go out. It happened three or four times. Each time I was about to go outside of Thunderbird 4 you called me back. Then I woke up."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry that I stopped you from finding out what the sea creature was," replied Virgil.

"No, you don't understand what I'm saying. It was only your voice that stopped me from leaving Thunderbird 4. If I'd gone outside to discover what it was I'm not sure...well...I don't think I would have found my way back."

Gordon looked at Virgil. Virgil looked at Gordon. Virgil stood up briskly.

"As usual, I have no idea what you're talking about. Looks like that concussion is going to take a while to get over. Well, since you seem okay at the moment I think I'll go and catch up on a few hours sleep at the hotel. Dad or Grandma should be back in a minute." Without so much as a backward glance, Virgil hurried out of the room. Gordon watched him go and then let sleep overcome him.

Charlie

Gordon was quick to heal and made steady improvement over the next few days. As he recovered, the family started to go their separate ways again. Scott persuaded Virgil to go back to Base where they could be ready for rescues, albeit with a reduced number of rescuers as Alan stayed in England and John went back to Thunderbird 5. Grandma, Tin Tin and Jeff also stayed at the hospital to keep an eye on Gordon but Brains was side-tracked by some fellow research scientists and spent many happy hours in the labs at a nearby university.

Gordon appreciated the concern that everyone was showing him but with four members of the family taking shifts at the hospital and the rest of his brothers calling him up regularly he found it hard to get as much rest as he would have liked. One Wednesday afternoon he found himself alone in his room for once and was just drifting off into a snooze when the door to his room was swung open with a bang. To Gordon's astonishment a clown bounced into his room.

"Hello, Gordon!" exclaimed the clown, cheerfully. The clown then proceeded to juggle some balls as Gordon stared. Then he pocketed the balls, pulled out a balloon and proceeded to blow it up.

"I can make this into anything you want. What will it be? A sword, a dog...?"

Gordon finally found his voice.

"Who the hell are you?" At his tone, the clown's enthusiasm faltered.

"I'm Charlie...." Charlie noticed the extremely irritated expression on Gordon's face. "...the Clown," he finished lamely.

"I can see that. Lose your way to the children's ward, did you?"

Charlie looked confused. "You are Gordon, right?"

"That's right. Gordon who hates clowns," Gordon replied darkly.

The clown started to fish about in his pocket. "I was told you were an adult with learning difficulties." He consulted a small notepad. "It says here you have a mental age of 4?" Charlie looked hopefully at Gordon but could see by his patient's mounting anger that he had been misinformed.

"Who in the hell told you that?" demanded Gordon furiously. The clown thought for a moment and consulted his notebook again.

"Er...I don't think I have his name. Oh, I remember, he told me to give you this." The clown delved about in another pocket, pulled something out and passed it to Gordon.

Gordon looked at the object in his hand. It was a very pink, very fluffy feather. Suddenly his anger disappeared. He was generous enough of spirit to appreciate skill in others when he came across it.

"Good one, Virgil," he said and smiled.