They looked like tiny little pillars sticking up from his gums as though each had been individually placed to be just-so, spaced apart rather than butted up against each other like most peoples' teeth he'd ever seen.

It was the last image burned into his brain, the lips of average shape and size smiling in a way that had instantly made his stomach plummet to his feet…and those teeth.

He blinked his eyes slowly open, only to find the familiar black nothingness was there whether opened or closed. The first sound that registered was a slow drip-drip that seemed to echo – whether round in his head or round the walls of wherever he was, he couldn't be quite sure.

Virgil remembered the rescue. Remembered the old, deep well that had been uncovered at a building site in the US state of Delaware, in the midst of what had once been fertile farmland. They weren't far from Delaware Bay, but he couldn't make his mind remember the coordinates or the nearby towns. All he could remember was Scott remarking from Mobile Control how strange their self-proclaimed local contact was, both in looks and manner. At the time, Virgil had been getting as close as he dared to the edge of the old well where two workers had fallen.

And then all Virgil saw in his mind, were those teeth.

He tried swallowing past the cotton lining every surface of his mouth, and found he could speak only after a handful of dry coughs. "Anyone here?" he asked, concentrating on the task of mentally cataloging how every inch of him felt. "Hello?"

His voice echoed back at him, which led to the conclusion that he, too, must've fallen down the well. And yet…if he'd fallen the distance Mobile Control had calculated the well to be – namely eight hundred and seventy-four feet – every bone in his body would be shattered right now.

He moved first his arms and then his legs. He ached a bit, but could tell nothing was broken. So he rose to his feet, reached out and found something damp, slimy and cold beneath the palm of his hand.

So. It was the well.

But he hadn't fallen to get here.

Teeth, as Virgil had taken to calling the man since he couldn't remember what Scott had said his name was, had he somehow gotten Virgil down here to the bottom of the well? If so, why? Had he also put the two construction workers down here the same way? But again, why?

There wasn't a pinprick of light to be had. Even if it'd been midday, he knew he wouldn't have been able to see the well opening. Last he was aware, it'd been ten at night local time. But of course he didn't have a clue how long he'd been unconscious.

His right hand came down to his left wrist automatically. But instead of finding the gold modified Rolex that he never took off – even in the shower – he found nothing but his own flesh. That's when it hit him. His wrist wasn't the only thing that was bare.

Virgil Tracy was completely naked. At the bottom of a well.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, because…really? Just…really?

"What is that?"

"It's a wishing well, Virgie."

"Wishing well?" A small face scrunched in concentration, little brow puckered as chestnut hair was tossed side-to-side in the light breeze. "Is that like 'get well soon'?"

Her laugh, a musical laugh that always made a three-year old Virgil smile, rang out over the park.

"No, Dear Heart." She crouched down so she was eye-level with him, as she always did. "A wishing well is for making a wish. You toss a penny into the well and make your wish as it falls."

His eyes widened. "And the wish will come true?"

"It will," she nodded, rising to her full height. "I met your daddy after making a wish that my move to a new town would make me happy." She looked down at him, a soft smile that he liked an awful lot, gracing her features. "All these years and sons later, and Daddy still is making me happy."

"Then I want to make a wish, Mommy, I want to!"

She dug in her purse for a penny, hoisted young Virgil up so his toss of the penny would make it over the edge, and whispered into his ear, "Okay, now make your wish, but don't tell anyone what it is, and then toss the penny in."

Virgil nodded. He knew exactly the wish he was going to make.

He woke with a start to find himself still unable to see, and shivering cold. He realized he'd broken out in a cold sweat and wondered why…how…what had changed in the well to make it so much colder than it had been before.

Then he realized, it must be nighttime. He wasn't sure that would affect things so dramatically down here, but then why else would he be…?

Virgil felt his forehead. It was on fire.

He checked his pulse at the carotid on his neck. It was racing like it was making a circuit round one of Alan's tracks.

Virgil swallowed hard…or tried to. His mouth was completely dry.

And he continued to shiver.

"I've got a fever," he croaked, shocked at the sound of his own voice.

But Virgil didn't remember having felt at all sick prior to this rescue, nor when he'd first awakened down here.

"How could I be sick?"

His gravelly voice echoed back at him from the damp stone walls.

Then he heard a sound that made him stop shivering completely…due to sheer fright.

Rushing water.

Only in the perfect circle of the well, he couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

How he wished Scott was here.

"Mommy took Johnny, Gordon and me to the wishing well while you were at Jared's house today."

"What'd you wish for?"

"I can't tell you, Scotty. Mommy tells us every time we go that you're not supposed to tell anyone what you wished for."

Scott grinned. "Well you can tell me all your secrets, Virgil. You know I won't tell anybody."

"Not like Johnny," Virgil pouted. "He's a blabbermouth."

"He is? What'd he do?"

Five-year old Virgil folded his arms over his chest, lower lip protruding even further out. His eyes welled up with tears. Scott sat down next to him in the plush grass of their Kansas home's back yard. He put an arm around his little brother.

"What'd he do?" Scott repeated.

"He told Daddy I was the one who painted the picture on the wall."

"And you got in trouble."

Virgil nodded. "Daddy took my paints away for a week."

"You know, Virg, since you're the only one of us who has a paint set, even if Johnny hadn't told Dad, he still would've known you'd done it."

Virgil was silent, tightening the fold of his arms over his chest in defiance. "Johnny still shouldn't be a tattletale."

"No, he shouldn't. But it's only a week, and you shouldn't paint the walls. Your easel with its paper is for painting."

"Scotty?"

"Yeah?"

"How long is a week?"

Scott chuckled. "Sometimes it seems like forever."

He was curled into a fetal position, but the cold, damp stones weren't helping him warm up. Nor was the rushing water he could still hear. He couldn't stop shivering. It felt like it'd been an eternity; as though he'd been down here for a week, if not more. However long it had been, to Virgil it seemed like forever.

Where was John, who would've known immediately that Virgil wasn't where he was supposed to be thanks to his watch no longer being on his wrist? Surely he would've immediately contacted Scott, and Scott in turn would've launched a search for him. They would've found the watch, wherever it was, and determined quickly that Virgil was no longer wearing it.

So then they'd start looking for him, right?

Then where were they?

The floor he was laying on shook. He flinched, hopping to his feet immediately. Water roared like a male lion preparing to defend his pride. Virgil's hands went palm-flat over his ears. Was a train barreling his way? He was so disoriented; he dared not move because he didn't know if one foot this way or the other would lead him straight to disaster.

Not that his current predicament was anything short of that already.

How humiliating, if his brothers did eventually find him here. To be naked, probably filthy, and trembling like a child scared out of his wits.

Tears rolled down his face. He was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. He shouldn't have wanted to go to the barn to see the horses, and he definitely shouldn't have let three-year old Johnny tag along. How many times had their parents warned them not to go outside when it was this cold, especially when there was a blizzard like there was now?

But Virgil had never been able to resist the solid, calm warmth of his grandparents' horses. He often went with his grandfather, or by himself. And normally that was okay, because Grandpa had taught him what to do and not do around the three horses to keep from getting hurt.

Bored on Day Two of the raging winter storm, Virgil had decided it would be much more interesting to hang out with the horses and feed them handfuls of apples and carrots, than to sit inside with Johnny who kept crying because he liked to be an annoying little brother. Scott was busy helping Grandpa and Daddy fix an upstairs window that a tree branch had broken through. Mommy was busy with Gordon, who was scared by the storm, and Grandma was cooking like crazy in case the power went out. Yes, very very bored indeed.

Except he wasn't bored anymore, he was scared. Because now here the two of them were, out in snow that was waist-deep on Virgil and shoulder-high on John, and Virgil had no idea where the barn was. Nor the house, for that matter. Normally he knew exactly which way to go, and he'd gone that way this time, too. Only for some reason the barn had moved, and he wondered when Grandpa and Daddy had done that and why no one had told him.

He couldn't see any further than John, who was whimpering as he clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his body. So Virgil did the only thing he could think to do...he sat down in the deep snow, pulled John onto his lap, and enveloped his small body in a big hug like Scott always did to them. He shivered harder as the wind blew snow into his face, and tears threatened to fall.

He was going to be in so much trouble for going outside, and in even more trouble for taking John with him. But if he could just keep them safe until someone found them, he was prepared to be grounded and scolded as long as Johnny was okay. He loved his little brother, he really did, no matter how much he sometimes annoyed him.

If only someone had known they'd left the farmhouse. If only someone could find them. Scotty would know, of that, Virgil was certain. When he finished helping Daddy and Grandpa, he'd ask where Virgil and John were. And he would just know, because Scott always knew when his little brothers were in trouble. Surely this would be no different.

Virgil felt a vibration on his feet. The air grew colder and colder, and he wondered if the rushing water that was so loud it practically drowned out his thoughts, was cold...if that's why the deep well air was more frigid now than it had been when he'd awakened.

And while he hated that he was alone right now, he was equally glad none of his brothers were with him. Because if they'd been there, then they would probably be naked, cold and hurt, too.

A moan.

Virgil forced himself to stop shaking. He couldn't have heard what he just heard.

There. Even with the rushing water he was certain he'd heard it again!

"Hello?" he said, trying and failing to keep his teeth from chattering. "Wh-who's there?"

"Ow," was the response.

Virgil's eyes widened. He'd know that voice anywhere! "John?"

"Huh? Virgil?"

How was John here? How could he be? Virgil was so confused, so lost. Hadn't John been on Five?

No! No, he hadn't been! He'd been back on Earth for only three days when this call had come in! Alan was the one on Five right now.

"John, what...where are you?"

"Shit. I don't know, it's pitch black. Where are you?"

"Keep talking, I'll f-f-find you."

"It's so...c-c-cold...why am I naked?"

Virgil barked out a laugh devoid of mirth. "You, t-too, huh?"

"What happened?"

"I d-d-don't know."

"Oh, my God-d-d, I'mmmm so c-c-c-cold."

Virgil followed the sound of his brother's voice as best he could. It took what seemed like a hundred million years before his foot, which felt like a block of ice, kicked something softer than stone.

"Owwww," John complained.

Virgil crouched down, putting his hands out. Sure enough, his nearly frozen fingers landed on bare skin. "You ok-kay?"

"N-n-no."

Body heat. Virgil had to get John warmed up, and in doing so, John would warm Virgil up. He felt around. It seemed there were no nearby walls, but by this time so much of Virgil's body was numb he wasn't sure he'd be able to tell a wall from John's body anyway.

"C-C'mere," Virgil said, doing his best to move his stiff limbs well enough that he could gather his brother close.

"What're you d-d-doing?"

"Warmth. We gotta g-g-get warm."

"C-c-can't m-m-move my legs. F-f-fu...d-d-dammit."

Soon Virgil was sitting there on the freezing cold floor, with John pulled into his lap as best he could. He dragged him up until his brother's back was against his chest, and wrapped his arms around him.

"H-h-hurts," John stammered. Virgil could hear his brother's teeth clacking together. Or maybe that was the sound of his own teeth chattering. "Water...I hear...w-w-water."

Virgil nodded, squeezed his arms even tighter around his brother and closed his eyes. A little rest, now that he felt some of John's warmth seeping into his skin. Maybe just a little rest...

Johnny had gone to sleep forever ago. Virgil kept his arms wrapped around his little brother, but felt his eyelids getting so heavy it was as though someone was forcing them closed on purpose. This thought made them snap back open, but it was so hard to keep them open. Especially because of how hard he was shivering.

This was all his fault. He was so cold, and Johnny was too and wasn't answering him anymore, and nobody knew where they were and—

"VIRGIL!"

Virgil's head jerked up.

"JOHN!"

Scott.

It was Scott!

"Scottyyyyyyy!" Virgil cried out at the top of his lungs.

His yell jolted Johnny awake, and the little three-year old immediately began to cry.

"SCOTTYYYY!" Virgil hollered again. He tried to get up but he couldn't, it was so hard to move!

And then a big, dark shape appeared through the blinding white surrounding them. "Oh, my God!"

It was Scott.

He'd found them.

And Virgil began to cry, too.

A weird sound woke Virgil from the twilight sleep he'd wandered into. "John?" he whispered, teeth clenched. He knew hypothermia was setting in. "John!"

"Mmhmph," his brother replied.

"What's that sound?"

"Nggh. Can't...Virg..."

Virgil couldn't move. Could still hear the roar of rushing water. Then a clank, a really loud clank that he'd not heard down here before.

Out of nowhere a blinding light, so brilliantly white that Virgil squeezed his eyes shut against the pain of its sudden appearance.

"VIRGIL!"

Virgil's head jerked up.

"JOHN!"

It couldn't be. But it was!

"SCOTT!" Virgil croaked as well as he could. Everything felt frozen solid.

Out of the white light stepped a familiar shape, and in Virgil's delirium he would've sworn it was Scott, dead, appearing to him as an angel.

"Oh, my God," his older brother breathed.

It was Scott.

He'd found them.

Virgil awoke sometime later, feeling warmer than he'd felt in such a long time that he wondered for a few seconds if he and John had died. He and John...his eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright in what he quickly discovered was one of the beds in Thunderbird Two's sickbay.

"Whoa, there, killer." Scott's voice.

"John?" Virgil asked, knowing he should be embarrassed at the high-pitch squeak that represented his voice.

"He's still out, but he's going to be okay. You both are," Scott said, gently shoving Virgil back down on the bed as he sat down on the edge of it.

"What..." Virgil's eyes wanted to close so badly. "What happened?"

"Best we can figure is this is the place that serial killer Axel Hector Corizando's been operating out of. He captures victims and keeps them down in the caverns at the bottom of the well until they're so hypothermic they can't resist whatever he's got planned for them."

Virgil swallowed. "The man who's been torturing and killing men for the past eight years?"

Everyone knew about those murders. Men in their twenties, thirties and forties had been disappearing from three states for eight long years, then showing up dead, their bodies telling tales of the horror they'd endured at the hands of their captor.

"He waited until you and John were out of my line of sight. He got John first, we figure, then you. Used chloroform to incapacitate you. It took Gordon and me forever to figure out where you guys were."

"Jesus Christ," Virgil breathed.

He and John had almost become the killer's next victims.

"If you two hadn't found each other down there, you would've been dead anyway by the time we got to you. All the noise we were making scared the bastard away," Scott continued. "The local cops caught him at a roadblock. He won't be killing anyone ever again."

"Thank God," Virgil breathed, eyes finally drifting all the way closed.

"By the way," Scott said softly, "good thinking on the body heat."

Virgil smiled faintly as he started drifting off. He couldn't help feeling that the situation he and John had just come through was familiar somehow...but was asleep before he could figure it out.

Virgil awoke sometime later, feeling warmer than he'd felt in such a long time that he wondered for a few seconds if he and Johnny had died and gone to Heaven. He and Johnny...his eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright in what he quickly discovered was the bedroom he and John used when staying at the farmhouse.

"Whoa there, big guy," Scott admonished, coming to sit on the edge of the bed and gently trying to push Virgil back down.

"Johnny!" Virgil called out. "Where's Johnny?"

Scott turned and pointed at the twin bed on the other side of the room. "He's right there. He'll be okay, Virgil."

Virgil swallowed hard as he looked across the room to where John slept. "He's not...dead?"

Scott smiled. "No. Neither of you are. You're in a lot of trouble, though."

Fighting to keep from crying, Virgil nodded as his head hit the pillow.

"That was good thinking to hug Johnny really close out in the cold."

Virgil had been expecting a tongue-lashing from Scott, then their dad, and then their grandfather...not to mention Grandma and Mommy. He hadn't expected praise, that was for certain.

"You shouldn't have been outside to begin with," Scott admonished quietly. "But Dad said you saved both your lives by doing what you did when you got lost."

Losing his battle with tears, they flowed from Virgil's eyes, running down his temples and pooling in his ears. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make us almost die."

"I know you didn't," Scott whispered, petting Virgil's hair like he did every time his little brother got upset about something.

Then Virgil remembered something and opened eyes that insisted upon trying to close, long enough that he could look into Scott's. "I guess when you make a wish, it really does come true."

Scott frowned. "How's that?"

"When Mommy told me to make a wish at the wishing well, I wished that I would always be there to help my brothers if they ever got hurt."

"Well, then," Scott said, pulling the covers up to his brother's chin as the sounds of adults coming up the stairs could be heard, "I guess then maybe wishes do come true."

As Virgil drifted off to sleep, he heard Scott whisper, "That's funny. The first time Mom took me to the wishing well, I made the same wish."