He was up and on his feet. The first thing he grabbed from the dresser drawer was a blue pair of shorts that hadn't even registered as he hauled them on over his briefs. There was no grace in the stumbling movements that carried him somehow (mostly) upright through his bedroom, through the outer sitting room, through the obliging sliding door and into the hall.

He even made it down said hall and into the Command Center without so much as tripping over the laces of his boots. Didn't mean he was actually awake to hear what his father said, though he knew that by the time he got his flight suit on in Thunderbird 2's cockpit as she clicked her pod into place, he'd remember it all because in some strange, supernatural way, reality always caught up to him around that point of these things.

Still and all, did rescue calls really need to come in at...he glanced at his watch as his painting upended him into the chute...two-fifteen in the morning? Groaning and happy as shit that the automatic coffee maker in his 'Bird would have a cup ready for him, Alan and Gordon by the time he was ready to trundle them out to the runway, Virgil allowed his descent to magically do what it always did: wake him up inch by inch as he barreled toward his destination.

Turned out it was a pretty straightforward rescue, all things considered. As they went, this one would go down in the log as short and sweet, he knew, as he lifted a gigantic boulder out of the way with Two's grabs. Ease up on the throttle, let his baby move just a sliver ahead, drop the boulder, and come back for the last one. Easy stuff, then Al and Gordo would head into the small above-ground cave and lead what was hopefully going to be five live victims out into the rising sun, and that'd be it. Scott was a good half-mile down the beach, safe and sound away from the cave in question and the big boulders.

"After all," Scott had joked with him once Mobile Control had been set up, "I know how you are on only four hours of sleep."

Virgil grinned, remembering that Alan from the seat behind him had asked why it was okay for Scott to send his little brothers into where they could get their bones crushed, but was all sorts of protective to keep the same thing from happening to his precious computers. Then Virgil had to stifle a full-blown laugh to keep his hands steady on the grab controls as he recalled Scott's short reply. "You're getting two extra laps around the island for that, soldier."

Yeah, best not to mess with the field commander, Virgil thought as Two signaled the incoming call.

"Thunderbird Two from Mobile Control."

He didn't take his attention from the monitor that was zoomed to that last boulder. "Go ahead, Scott."

"Double-time it, Virg. Local geologists are saying the rest of that hill could come down any second."

"F.A.B.," Virgil replied, though he wasn't going to double-time anything. Because really, he couldn't make the grabs move any faster, couldn't try to rush getting its long, metal fingers around the biggest boulder of the five he had to remove in total. And he honestly didn't need to put a rush on moving barely two feet with the boulder so it could be dropped on the shore of the Atlantic. Maine, for all its lobster glory, was also well-known for its little caves that cropped up here and there on the coast. But unfortunately for this group of early-morning spelunkers, a car careening off the cliff top above them had caused a fantastic crumbling of said cliff.

Virgil shook his head. The drunk driver could have killed five people if they'd been standing anywhere else but actually inside the cave, and here International Rescue had to be called out just because some pissed off college kid decided to get tanked and go for a wild drive to his ex-girlfriend's with the sole purpose of forcing her to take him back, was precisely the correct thing to do.

He'd heard the whole story over Scott's main line when the drunkard's (apparently) new girlfriend (maybe four hours into it, anyway) had come screeching to a halt at Mobile Control bawling her story out and begging for forgiveness. Before, that was, she realized what a "hot guy" his older brother was (her words, he added mentally) and thought drunkard Jimmy was nothing compared to big, manly rescue guy (again, her words) Scott.

Virgil rolled his eyes at the memory as the grabs dropped the final boulder. Reporting it on their multiple-line bandwidth, he got a chorus of F.A.B.s in return, followed by instructions from his field commander about where to set down. Then came the call from Gordon informing them all that the five tourists were perfectly fine, just scared shitless, and they'd have them in the hands of local EMTs within minutes. Virgil grinned as he walked out of the pod. His eyes zeroed in on his brother not twenty feet away sitting at Mobile Control with a local police officer.

Slowly he made his way toward the compact computer setup, allowing himself a moment to check out the landscape as he did so. The entirety of this part of the coastline was craggy cliff face, with only about a thirty-foot wide strip of beach littered with the same brown craggy rocks that made up the wall. Thunderbird Two was half in the water with her struts and pod as it was, but it was low tide and so she would be off again before any real danger of flooding out the pod came their way.

When it happened, it was like every cliché he'd ever heard about Time seeming to stand still. Everything was in slow motion from the second he heard the big crack, to the following nanosecond when his eyes darted up to see what had caused it, to the shock of realizing a bus-sized shard of the cliff face was breaking away from the wall, to the visual projection of the shard's fall, to the all-over tightness of muscles and chest that came when he realized where it was going to land, to the sickening knowledge that his bellowed warning to Scott was not going to change the outcome.

And that's when Time decided to speed up again, to put the shard and his body into hyperdrive. To make sand fly up from his heels even as the sickening crunch of metal, and he was sure he heard more than metal crunching, washed over him like a tidal wave. He'd seen it. He'd seen it happen with his own eyes, but he wouldn't believe it. Not when Gordon and Alan came running and yelling from down the beach. Not when the bloody and ripped hat was yanked from the outer edge of the shard. Not when red, red blood began tinging the wet sand around the smashed screens and circuitry.

He didn't believe it. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Sinking to his knees next to the rock, hat clutched so tightly in his fist he could feel his own nails cutting into his palms through the fabric, he felt the primal scream gurgle up from his belly as shock and disbelief and anger and grief churned his gut. But the scream wouldn't emerge. It stuck right there in his throat, stopping his heart, he was sure. Stopping his breathing. Stopping coherent thought. It couldn't be. There had to be some mistake. He felt himself hyperventilating, hands desperately pushing against a rock he knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell he could move.

Hands on his shoulders, gripping hard, trying to pull him away. Then the sound of Thunderbird Two taking off, where had that come from? The whine of her engines overhead as the hands grabbed him under his armpits and dragged him away and he didn't even fight. He shouldn't be letting them take him away from Scott, Scott needed him. Scott couldn't be left alone there, he needed help. He wouldn't survive unless Virgil helped him and yet for all his brain screamed that into itself, he found he couldn't move a muscle.

All he could do was watch as Two's grabs lowered, secured themselves around the rock and began to lift it away. He felt someone drop next to him on the sand, and vaguely registered small waves making it past his knees to soak the fabric of his pants, but the sickening reality of what was caught on the bottom of the rock and in the sand below it made him turn to the left, retching violently as the image burned itself into his brain.

He never would remember how it was exactly he got home.

Chapter Two

He was up and on his feet. The first thing he grabbed from the dresser drawer was a blue pair of shorts that hadn't even registered as he hauled them on over his briefs. There was no grace in the stumbling movements that carried him somehow (mostly) upright through his bedroom, through the outer sitting room, through the obliging sliding door and into the hall. He got a sudden feeling of deja vu – the klaxon yanking him out of bed at oh-dark-hundred. Man, didn't I just DO this?

He made it down said hall and into the Command Center without so much as tripping over the laces of his boots. Didn't mean he was actually awake to hear what his father said, though he knew that by the time he got his flight suit on in Thunderbird 2's cockpit as she clicked her pod into place, he'd remember it all because in some strange, supernatural way, reality always caught up to him around that point of these things.

Still and all, did rescue calls really need to come in at...he glanced at his watch as his painting upended him into the chute...two-fifteen in the morning? Now why does that seem so familiar? Groaning, he could only grumble to himself, What the hell was I thinking taking a job that gets me up this early? But that half-hearted thought was replaced with the fact that the automatic coffee maker in his 'Bird would have a cup ready for him, Alan and Gordon by the time he was ready to trundle them out to the runway. Steadying himself with the thought of the finest Kona coffee money could buy being only seconds away, Virgil allowed his descent to magically do what it always did: wake him up inch by inch as he barreled toward his destination.

Turned out it was a pretty straightforward rescue, all things considered. Wasn't the last one straightforward, too? This one would go down in the log as short and sweet, he knew, as he lifted a gigantic boulder out of the way with Two's grabs. Ease up on the throttle, let his baby move just a sliver ahead, drop the boulder, and come back for the last one. Easy stuff, then Al and Gordo would head into the small above-ground cave and lead what was hopefully going to be five live victims out into the rising sun, and that'd be it. Scott was a good half-mile down the beach, safe and sound away from the cave in question and the big boulders.

"After all," Scott had joked with him once Mobile Control had been set up, "I know how you are on only four hours of sleep."

Virgil grinned, remembering that Alan from the seat behind him had asked why it was okay for Scott to send his little brothers into where they could get their bones crushed, but was all sorts of protective to keep the same thing from happening to his precious computers. Then Virgil had to stifle a full-blown laugh to keep his hands steady on the grab controls as he recalled Scott's short reply. "You're getting two extra laps around the island for that, soldier."

Yeah, best not to mess with the field commander, Virgil thought as Two signaled the incoming call. He did a double-take as Scott's face appeared on a smaller monitor to his right.

"Thunderbird Two from Mobile Control." Scott frowned. "What's with the face? You got trouble?"

"Face?" Virgil repeated. "No, just a little deja vu, I guess. What's up?"

"Double-time it, Virg. Local geologists are saying the rest of that hill could come down any second."

"Good thing you're out of the way," Virgil replied, then frowned as Scott's feed winked out. Now why do I feel like...oh, never mind. I need to get more sleep!

He shook his head. The drunk driver could have killed five people if they'd been standing anywhere else but actually inside the cave, and here International Rescue had to be called out just because some pissed off college kid decided to get tanked and go for a wild drive to his ex-girlfriend's with the sole purpose of forcing her to take him back was precisely the right thing to do.

He'd heard the whole story over Scott's main line when the drunkard's (apparently) new girlfriend (maybe four hours into it, anyway) had come screeching to a halt at Mobile Control bawling her story out and begging for forgiveness. Before, that was, she realized what a "hot guy" his older brother was (her words, he added mentally) and thought drunkard Jimmy was nothing compared to big, manly rescue guy (again, her words) Scott.

Virgil frowned as the grabs dropped the final boulder. Reporting it on their multiple-line bandwidth, he got a chorus of F.A.B.s in return, followed by instructions from his field commander about where to set down. Then came the call from Gordon informing them all that the five tourists were perfectly fine, just scared shitless, and they'd have them in the hands of local EMTs within minutes. Virgil grinned as he walked out of the pod. His eyes zeroed in on his brother not twenty feet away sitting at Mobile Control with a local police officer.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His eyes narrowed as they darted around. He couldn't explain it, but there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that had firmly taken root. Slowly he made his way toward Scott and Mobile Control. The entirety of this part of the coastline was craggy cliff face, with only about a thirty-foot wide strip of beach littered with the same brown craggy rocks that made up the wall. Thunderbird Two was half in the water with her struts and pod as it was, but it was low tide and so she would be off again before any real danger of flooding out the pod came their way.

When it happened, it was like every cliché he'd ever heard about Time seeming to stand still. Everything was in slow motion from the second he heard the big crack, to the following nanosecond when his eyes darted up to see what had caused it, to the instantaneous feeling that he already knew what was going to happen, to the shock of realizing a bus-sized shard of the cliff face was breaking away from the wall, to the visual projection of said shard's fall, to the all-over tightness of muscles and chest that came when he knew where it was going to land, to the sickening knowledge that his bellowed warning to Scott was not going to change the outcome.

And that's when Time decided to speed up again, to put the shard and his body into hyperdrive. To make sand fly up from his heels even as the sickening crunch of metal, and he was sure he heard more than metal crunching anyway, washed over him like a tidal wave. He'd seen it. He'd seen it happen with his own eyes, but he wouldn't believe it. Not when Gordon and Alan came running and yelling from down the beach. Not when the bloody and ripped hat was yanked from the outer edge of the shard. Not when red, red blood began tinging the wet sand around smashed screens and circuitry.

He didn't believe it. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Sinking to his knees next to the rock, hat clutched so tightly in his fist he could feel his own nails cutting into his palms through the fabric, he felt the primal scream gurgle up from his belly as shock and disbelief and anger and grief churned his gut. But it stuck right there in his throat, stopping his heart, he was sure. Stopping his breathing. Stopping coherent thought. It couldn't be. There had to be some mistake. He felt himself hyperventilating, hands desperately pushing against a rock he knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell he could move.

Hands on his shoulders, gripping hard, trying to pull him away. Then the sound of Thunderbird Two taking off, what, who was flying it if not him? The whine of her engines overhead as the hands grabbed him under his armpits and dragged him away and he didn't even fight. He shouldn't be letting them take him away from Scott, Scott needed him. Scott couldn't be left alone there, he needed help. He wouldn't survive unless...in that single, sickening moment he knew exactly what reality he would see on the bottom of the rock and in the sand below. His mind shut down as he turned to the left, retching violently, the image burned into his brain.

He never would remember how it was exactly he got home.

Chapter Three

He was up and on his feet. The first thing he grabbed from the dresser drawer was a blue pair of shorts that hadn't even registered as he hauled them on over his briefs. There was no grace in the stumbling movements that carried him somehow (mostly) upright through his bedroom, through the outer sitting room, through the obliging sliding door and into the hall.

Virgil stopped dead in his tracks as the doors down the hall slid open one after another. First Alan raced past him, followed on-heel by Gordon. Scott darted out of his door next, skidding to a halt next to him. "What the hell are you waiting for?" he asked in a clipped tone.

He shook his head as Scott grabbed his arm. For some reason Virgil just couldn't quite grasp, this seemed way too familiar. Once he reached the Command Center, he just went directly to the floor-to-ceiling painting of the rocket ship. He didn't hear anything their father said.

Did rescue calls really need to come in at...he glanced at his watch as his painting upended him into the chute...two-fifteen in the morning? He froze as the chute barreled him toward his destination. Two-fifteen in the morning? Two-fifteen? Suddenly he felt sick. What the hell?

"Virgil, aren't you awake yet? You've had two cups of coffee."

His hands flew across the control panel, the scowl that appeared before Two had even taken off still etched into his face. "I'm fine."

"Then how come you're not talking?"

Virgil cut his eye back at Gordon. "Because I'm busy flying."

"You can fly with your eyes closed," Alan said before yawning none-too-quietly.

"Don't say that, he'll actually try it," Gordon said through his own yawn.

Virgil's retort died on his lips as Two signaled an incoming call. He did a double-take as Scott's face appeared on a smaller monitor to his right.

"Thunderbird Two from Mobile Control." Scott frowned. "What's with the face? You got trouble?"

"Face?" Virgil repeated.

"Yes, face," Gordon growled.

"Shut up," Virgil growled right back.

"What the hell?" Scott said sternly.

"Nothing, Scott," Virgil said, trying to quell the unidentifiable knot that had taken up residence in his stomach. "What's up?"

"Double-time it, Virg. Local geologists are saying the rest of that hill could come down any second."

"Good thing you're out of-" Virgil frowned.

"I'm what?" Scott asked none-too-patiently.

"That you're..." Virgil looked, really looked at his brother. Suddenly all he saw was red, red on sand, red covering a hat clutched in a hand. He felt his eye twitch.

"Virgil, report!" Scott demanded.

"Something's not right," was all Virgil could think to say.

"You have a fault?" Scott pressed as Alan and Gordon unstrapped and came to stand over Virgil's shoulders, their eyes alternately going from Virgil to the multiple screens and control panel.

"No signals," Alan murmured, brow knitted.

"I don't see anything off," Gordon replied, laying a hand on Virgil's shoulder.

"Except Virg," Alan added.

"ETA now five minutes," Virgil said, scowl deepening. Something's wrong, something's wrong, something's wrong! his mind screamed at him.

Scott studied his brother for a few seconds. "F.A.B.," he finally said. Virgil looked him in the eyes and felt like he'd been sucker punched as Scott's feed winked out.

Everything had gone according to plan. After all, this really was a straightforward rescue. But Virgil frowned as the grabs dropped the final boulder. He hadn't been able to shake the feeling of dread that descended upon him but could not for the life of him figure out why.

Reporting the last boulder's removal on their multiple-line bandwidth, he got a chorus of F.A.B.s in return, followed by instructions from his field commander about where to set down. Then came the call from Gordon informing them all that the five tourists were perfectly fine, just scared shitless, and they'd have them in the hands of local EMTs within minutes. As Virgil walked out of the pod, his eyes zeroed in on his older brother not twenty feet away sitting at Mobile Control with a local police officer.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His eyes narrowed as they darted around. The urge to double over and let loose whatever was in his stomach became unbearable and he swallowed rapidly to keep the bile from rising. That's when he just knew.

"Scott!" he yelled, taking off at a dead run. "Jesus Christ, Scott!"

He saw his brother rise to his feet and look toward him. He heard the big crack and began waving his hands toward the cliff above Scott's head. The policeman and Scott looked up at the same moment as the bus-sized shard of the cliff face was breaking away from the wall.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!

"Scott, no!"

The sickening crunch happened when he was less than two feet away. He knew where the bloody hat was and fell to the ground next to it. His eyes filled with tears as he retched into the wet sand under his knees.

Virgil felt himself hyperventilating, frozen in the moment, in the swirl of images that stormed through his mind. He'd seen this before; he knew it as surely as he knew his own name. He'd known. Somehow, he'd known and now...Scott was gone. Scott was gone.

Hands on his shoulders, gripping hard, trying to pull him away. Then the sound of Thunderbird Two taking off, what, who was flying it if not him? The whine of her engines overhead as the hands grabbed him under his armpits and dragged him away and he didn't even fight. What was the point?

Scott was gone.

Chapter Four

He was up and on his feet. For one complete second he was sure his heart stopped beating. In the next second he glanced at his watch. Three seconds later he bypassed the dresser and sprinted into the hall. Alan and Gordon paid him no attention as they ran by. Scott darted out of his door next, skidding to a halt next to him. "What the hell are you waiting for?" he asked in a clipped tone, and Virgil watched his brother's eyes lower. "Not even shorts?" he asked with a grin, and then laid his hand on Virgil's shoulder as he rolled his eyes. "Come on."

He shook his head as Scott took off down the staircase. "No!" he bellowed, racing after him.

Scott was halfway down the steps looking up at him as he reached the top step. "Virgil?"

Virg shook his head. There was one thing on his mind and one thing only. "You can't go."

"Go? Where, on the call? Come on, Virgil, now is not the time-"

"No."

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Scott asked, trotting back up the steps until he stood eye-to-eye with Virgil, hand reaching out to take his forearm. "You look like somebody died."

Virg dropped down to the top step, head falling to his hands. He heard their father call Scott's watch, but it took a few moments for him to realize Scott had grabbed his wrist and was pretty much dragging him down the steps.

"We can't go!" Virgil protested as they came to a halt in front of Jeff's desk.

"What's going on here?" Jeff demanded, rising to his feet. "Your brothers are already halfway to Two!"

"We're not going out," Virgil said, stubbornly crossing his arms over his bare chest, forgetting completely that the only stitch of clothing he was wearing were white briefs.

Jeff's eyes flicked to Scott and back again. "Get going, Scott, Gordon flies Two."

Virgil's jaw dropped as he threw a panicked looked at Scott's retreating back. "We'll deal with this when I get back," Scott said, pointing directly at him before reaching up to grab his two light fixtures.

"Goddammit!" Virgil roared, climbing over the desk and nearly knocking his surprised father down in the process. Virgil's hand slammed down on the emergency stop, leaving Scott's wall only halfway flipped around.

The three men were frozen in that single moment in time, with Scott's and Jeff's eyes wide in shock and their mouths stuck open.

"What the actual fuck?" Scott hollered, breaking the spell as he stalked across the Command Center.

"Scott, you can't go," Virgil said, knowing it sounded like begging but not giving a rat's ass as he slid off his dad's desk. Every muscle in his body was taut, his gut on fire. "If you go, you'll die."

Virgil was now wearing shorts, though he didn't remember having gone and gotten them himself. The five people were still trapped in Maine. Virgil had woven his tale...at least, what little he remembered, it came in bits and pieces...flashes, mostly, but it always ended in the absolute certainty that Scott was going to die. The bitch of the entire thing was, he couldn't precisely recall how.

And so he'd been grounded, their father making it abundantly clear that if he stopped Scott from heading to Thunderbird One, or tried to keep Two from taking off, there would be serious repercussions.

"You're going for a psych eval," Jeff said as Thunderbird One roared into the sky.

Virgil was shaking and starting to wonder what the actual fuck himself, as his brother's angry words came back to him. Sinking onto a chair he watched and listened as Scott called in. They were thirty minutes later than they would've been if they'd left as soon as the klaxon went off. It sounded like things were pretty stable where a drunk driver had careened over a cliff and sent half the hill tumbling down to cover a cave where five tourists were now trapped, though, and Scott figured it for an easy in and out "...as long as nothing more falls."

The color drained from Virgil's face as Scott's feed winked out. His eyes widened. He knew, he knew, he knew.

"Son?"

"He can't land, please, Jesus, Dad, please, why don't you remember?" Virgil yelled not two inches from his father's face.

His heart felt like it was being squeezed right out of his chest and that's when his breaths started coming faster and faster and in a flash of light he saw the bus-sized rock fall from the cliff and was holding a bloody hat in his hand and puking his guts out on the beach. In the moment, Virgil turned away from Jeff and tossed everything left from last night's too-late dinner onto the hardwood floor.

"What the—Brains, get up here now!"

"Dad, please, don't let him..." Virgil felt his vision going black around the edges, felt like he was falling, "God, don't..." He tried to keep himself awake, pushed himself up to a standing position but Jeff put his hands on Virgil's shoulders and shoved him back down onto the floor.

"Stay down!" Jeff barked, and then started giving orders to whoever had come into the room, Brains probably, though Virgil's vision was spotty at best as darkness narrowed to only letting a pinpoint of light in and blood rushed through his ears like a freight train.

"Scott!" The word felt like it had been ripped from his chest and the last thing Virgil saw as his body and mind shut down was the blood, wet and warm all over the sand. Scott's blood. He knew in his last terrifying moment of consciousness that he'd never see his brother again.

Chapter Five

The klaxon sounded.

Virgil sat bolt upright and glanced at the alarm clock.

He raced out of his room, into the hall and was at Scott's door as it slid open. He shoved Scott back into his room, turned around and locked the door tight before his brother even registered his presence.

"Virgil, what-?" Scott started, anger flashing in his eyes.

"You're not going on that rescue," Virgil stated as though it was an absolute, indisputable, undeniable and non-negotiable fact.

Scott's mouth opened and closed, then opened again before snapping shut.

"Listen to me," Virgil said, shoving Scott backwards until he fell onto the love seat in his sitting room. "If we go to this rescue, we'll pull it off just fine and save those five people."

Scott twisted his head just slightly, eyes seeming confused.

"But then just when it's time to pack up," Virgil continued, "a piece of rock the size of a bus will fall right onto Mobile Control." Scott's mouth opened again, but Virgil grabbed his brother's biceps in a vise-like grip and shook him. "Right in front of me, Scott," he whispered fiercely, eyes burning bright.

"Crushes me," Scott whispered, frowning and shaking his head a little like he couldn't quite grasp the situation.

"Yes," Virgil said, nodding and shaking Scott again. "You remember?"

"I don't..." Scott looked into Virgil's eyes and Virg could see the vague recognition.

"Yes, it's happened four times already, Scott, four times. Tell me you remember. Please."

Scott's watch beeped and he automatically raised it to his face. "Dad."

"Scott, where the hell are you and Virgil?" their father barked.

Locking his eyes with Virgil's again, Scott flinched when his brother's grip on his arms tightened. "Please, at least if you go, don't land," Virgil pleaded, feeling a burn behind his eyes.

"Father, we're not going out on this one. I'll be down in one minute. Scott out." Rising to his feet, he pulled Virgil up with him. "I don't know what the hell is going on, but..." Their eyes hadn't left each other's. "I saw it, Virg." Scott's hand found his shoulder. More quietly, he whispered, "As soon as you said it...I saw it."

Virgil gulped air into his lungs, felt the sweat covering his body start cooling his flesh, goosebumps raising over every inch of him in response. He nodded as he puffed a breath out and let go of Scott's arms. "Okay," he said, nodding and looking away. "Okay."

"It came down right where Virgil said it would," John said from his video screen on the wall. "The local police had brought a mobile command center to that location and set it up in spite of our warnings. They lost two officers."

Virgil, Scott and Jeff closed their eyes. Gordon and Alan just looked at one another.

"I still don't understand how you lived the same day over and over again, Virgil," Jeff said. "And then how you convinced Scott about all this."

"I don't know, Dad," Virgil sighed, leaning forward and running his hands through hair that still stood out at odd angles because they'd been in the Command Center since Scott had informed Jeff in no uncertain terms they were not going out on this rescue, and then they'd all spent three hours trying to figure out precisely why Scott felt that was a good idea.

"I can't explain it either," Scott said, looking directly into his father's eyes. "Somehow, when Virg barged into my room and told me, I just..." Scott shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. We tried warning the local PD and they didn't listen. I'll write this up best I can, but I'm not even sure how to file it."

That night, when Virgil finally went to his room, he was exhausted and determined not to go to sleep. In fact, he even went so far as to type the whole story up, print it out and tape it to the insides of everyone's bedroom doors, which included sending it up to Thunderbird Five and instructing John to do the same.

"Why, Virg?" Scott asked as he dutifully taped the thing to the back of his door while Virgil hovered nearby. "What the hell good is this going to do if tomorrow is actually today starting all over again?"

"I'm not going to sleep," Virgil said, staving off a yawn. "So when the klaxon rings, the report will still be on everyone's doors, and it's date-stamped and, more importantly, time-stamped, so you'll all believe me in a heartbeat."

"Virg," Scott said with the same voice he'd used to talk his brother down from a treehouse twenty years earlier, "if the day's going to start all over again...and I'm not even coming close to saying I believe that completely, by the way...these papers will disappear as soon as the clock resets."

"Not if I don't go to sleep," Virgil insisted – very reminiscent of that same twenty-year-ago incident - and Scott began to wonder just how much Virgil had slept at all over these last five nights he claimed had happened over and over again.

"Come on," Scott said softly, steering Virgil to his bed. "Just lie down. I'll keep an eye on tonight."

"Scott, no rescues in Maine."

"No, I promise, no rescues in Maine. Okay?" he said, shoving Virgil back onto his bed. His brother pressed his head into the pillow but his eyes remained wide open and red-rimmed.

"Hey," Scott said, crouching down next to the bed and laying a hand on Virgil's wrist. He waited until his brother's eyes met his. "It's okay," he whispered, with a small smile. "It's okay."

Virgil awoke with a start. His eyes went to the alarm clock. 2:15am. They darted around the room, bright enough from the moonlight streaming through the wall of windows that he realized he was in Scott's room, in Scott's bed. And in the same moment that panic started to well up inside him, Virgil registered that the klaxon wasn't wailing. Ten seconds later he heard a soft snort and his eyes darted to the other side of the bed.

Where Scott rolled to his side and continued to sleep.

He felt a smile creep across his face and slowly got out of Scott's bed. Stopping for a moment to look at his brother, Virgil couldn't resist reaching down and resting his fingertips on his shoulder. Scott was warm. Scott was breathing. Scott was alive.

The door hissed shut behind him, then his own door did the same. He walked across the large room and stepped out onto the balcony. Closing his eyes for a moment, he brought his hands to rest on the metal railing and squeezed it tightly, willing the god-awful images away from the backs of his eyelids.

When Virgil reopened his eyes, he looked up into the inky sky filled with millions of stars and a three-quarters moon. "Thank you," he whispered, noting on his watch that it was now 2:35 a.m. And there was no klaxon. Inexplicably, his gut told him Scott would live, and he felt the tension leave his body at last. "Thank you."