FAMILIAR STRANGERS by PURUPUSS RATED FRT

When something unexpected happens to one of the team, how will they all cope?

Thirteen

"Gordon... Are you in here?"

"Alan?"

"Yep."

"Are you alone?"

"Yep."

"Thank heavens for that. How'd you find me?"

"When you leave a note on Dad's desk, in full view, saying you've gone up to the caves, you're pretty easy to find."

Gordon chuckled.

Alan swung his torch around until it lit up his brother. He made his way over the rocky ground and found a flat rock beside Gordon to sit on. "So... Why are you here? Why not somewhere on the beach in the light?" He switched off the torch and waited for his eyes to become adjusted to the gloom.

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Of course."

"I'm hiding from Virgil. He doesn't know about this place, I haven't brought him here yet."

"You're hiding from Virgil?"

"I know, it sounds awful, but I needed a break."

Alan frowned in the darkness. "Huh?"

"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad I'm able to help him. But I needed some time to do something that I wanted to do, not something that will help him as well."

"And what you wanted to do was hide in a cold, dark cave?"

Gordon was silent in the darkness.

"Gordon?" Alan prompted.

"No. I wanted to escape from him."

Alan heard Gordon give a sigh. "So you were hoping to get in a little quality time by yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Well don't worry. I won't break your cover. The only problem is everyone else will know where you are when they go past Dad's desk."

"Yeah. But so long as they don't tell Virgil I'm safe. He can't read well enough yet, especially when the words are written backwards. And I can be found if there's an emergency."

"What do you think your wristwatch communicator's for?"

Gordon chuckled. "Believe it or not I didn't consider that. I must be really tired."

"What you need is something to take your mind off things."

"Such as?"

"You haven't played any practical jokes in a while."

"I haven't had the opportunity. I haven't even had the time or energy to plan anything."

"So here's your opportunity. I'll help. Let's plan something against Virgil. He's an ideal target at the moment."

"Alan! I wouldn't!"

"Neither would I. But you can't tell me that the idea hasn't crossed you mind. We'll sit here and come up with a few hypothetical ideas."

"A little hypothetical revenge."

"If you like."

They spent the next half-hour hatching out plans, working out scenarios and devising details.

Eventually Gordon grew tired of brainstorming. "What's the use of these plans if we're never going to use them?"

"Regard it as harmless therapy. Next time you feel like telling Virgil where to go, you can smile sweetly and imagine his face when he finds you've swapped rooms." Alan shone a light onto his watch. "We'd better start thinking about getting back. Feeling more relaxed?"

"Yeah, thanks, Alan." Then Gordon gave a mischievous snicker. "I just thought of another one. I could tell him that Tin-Tin's got a crush on him."

He couldn't see Alan's face harden. "You what?"

"Relax. I've already told him she's off limits."

"Why?"

"Way back at the beginning he made some comment about her being pretty, and I told him we regard her as a sister, nothing more. He accepted that and hasn't said anything since, so I guess he's forgotten about it."

"Hmmn," Alan said darkly as he checked his watch again. "I've got to pack my bags ready for this afternoon. Are you coming back with me?"

Gordon heard him stand and could just make out his outline change position. "Yes, I guess I'd better," he said reluctantly as he stood, stretched, and started walking towards the dim light from the caves entrance.

Alan tagged along beside his brother. "I guess things'll be different, one way or another, when I get back from Thunderbird Five."

"I hope so. Fingers crossed that we've got the old Virgil back, huh."

"Fingers crossed."

Virgil sat alone up at the lookout. He often came up here. Sometimes it seemed to be the only place on the island where he could find something approaching peace with himself and his situation.

Sometimes it felt as if he'd only been alive for a single month, with only one month of memories to hold onto.

The strain was beginning to show – on everyone. People were getting scratchy. They were all trying to help, but Virgil felt that none of them really wanted to. They wanted him to go away.

That included Gordon. Virgil had noticed that recently he would ask for Gordon's help and a resigned expression would cross the redhead's face briefly before the usual relaxed countenance would reappear.

Gordon was clearly growing tired of his role as protector.

Virgil was saddened by the thought that their friendship was becoming strained.

He looked out at the horizon and thought about the other people in his life. He tried analysing his relationship with each of them.

Alan:

They'd started off okay. Once Alan had got over the fear of the amnesia, they'd become friends. But over the last few weeks, friendliness had turned to something else. It was as if Alan couldn't trust Virgil. As if he were suspicious of him for some reason.

And Virgil had no idea why.

John:

Virgil had liked John during the short time they'd been together. John had been friendly, and caring, and helpful, and understanding...

And then he was taken away. Sent back to 'Thunderbird Five'.

Why was it necessary for one man to remain alone in a space station that received and relayed emergency messages?

Virgil couldn't answer that one.

Jeff Tracy:

His father?

Why did he always think that as if it were a question?

Virgil had liked his... father. He'd felt safe around him when it had felt as if the rest of the world were spinning out of control. He'd liked him as a man, and for his principles and caring manner...

A manner that had changed over the last couple of weeks. Jeff Tracy was becoming distracted and somewhat aloof whenever he was around Virgil. While tutoring him in his reading, the lessons had become shorter and less entertaining.

It was as if Jeff Tracy was ashamed to be near him and was in a rush to get away. Was he ashamed of a son who couldn't even read properly?

Virgil wondered if he was ashamed of something else.

Grandma Tracy:

A kindly, caring old soul, who would make the most mouth watering concoctions, and then would look at Virgil as if expecting him to react in some way that he was unable to, and then move away...

Clearly she'd taken to heart the way he'd reacted when they first met...

'First' met?

Like so many others in this group she avoided him. Maybe not to the extreme of some, but she kept her distance, careful not to touch him in any way. It sometimes meant some strange contortions on her part, but it seemed to keep her happy...

And made Virgil feel guilty.

Brains:

What a strange name. If he was so clever why couldn't he come up with a cure for amnesia?

The only time Virgil really got to see Brains was for meals and when the latter put some new gadget on his head in hopes of finding a cure for the condition.

Virgil wasn't able to put much faith into Brains' inventions.

Kyrano:

Virgil felt that he didn't really know Kyrano. He knew he was Tin-Tin's father. He knew he was Jeff Tracy's servant. He knew Kyrano was very, very inscrutable.

That was all Virgil knew.

Virgil stretched his back, rubbed his neck, and ran through the list of people. Had he missed anyone out...?

Scott.

His closest brother?

It wasn't as if Scott was avoiding him. It was as if...

Who was he kidding? Scott was avoiding him. All through this last month people had been telling him how close he and Scott had been and yet Scott was doing all he could to keep some kind of barrier between them. He was never unfriendly or cold, but he was never friendly or welcoming either.

Maybe Scott didn't like him now that he had amnesia. Maybe something about him had changed so much that Scott couldn't stand it. Maybe...

Maybe it was a lie.

Maybe he and Scott hadn't been that close...

Maybe Scott didn't know Virgil.

Maybe none of them did.

In summary, the way Virgil saw it, Gordon was getting sick of him, Scott was avoiding him, Alan was suspicious, and John was simply absent. Jeff Tracy was aloof, Mrs Tracy was uncomfortable, Kyrano was inscrutable, and Brains wasn't that brainy.

Only Tin-Tin appeared to genuinely want to help.

Virgil couldn't help smiling when he thought of her. She was always cheerful, always ready to give him her time, always willing to be his friend.

Virgil needed to know that he had a friend. It was a source of comfort to him.

A source of comfort in the midst of this inescapable nightmare.

Sometimes he found the urge to escape almost unbearable. At those times he'd either retreat to the studio to work on the Traceset, or to practise on the keyboard. Yesterday, after a long practise session he'd actually plucked up the courage to try playing a tune he'd heard on the radio on the baby grand in the lounge. He'd impressed himself with his own abilities.

Or else, if things were really pressing in on him, he'd head up here, away from the reminders of what he didn't know, into the fresh air and try to work out his frustrations on paper.

He looked down at the sketchpad and compared its scene with that spread out before him. He was reasonably satisfied with the result. The palm trees looked realistic, the beach seemed to be at the right perspective, and he'd got the sunlight glinting off the waters just right. The only thing missing were the filmy tendrils of smoke that were rising from the Round House. He started to sketch them in and then stopped, his brow creased in thought.

He looked back at the Round House. He couldn't think of any reason why there should be smoke coming from there. There were no chimneys or fireplaces that he could recollect. He was sure that it must be made of fire retardant material to withstand the intense heat of Thunderbird Three's rockets. And that hadn't been launched since John had gone back to Thunderbird Five... or wherever.

So why the smoke?

Curiosity aroused, he set off along the path towards the distinctively shaped building.

The smoke was quite thick in places by the time he got there, and was clearly seeping through gaps in several open windows.

Not sure what else to do he ran around to the steps leading up to the door. Once there he stopped. He placed the back of his hand on the door, feeling for heat – a sign of fire.

The door was cool to his touch.

As he stopped to consider his next action he heard a sound from inside.

The sound of a body falling heavily.

Now Virgil was worried. He banged on the door and shouted.

There was no reply.

The door was still cool, but he was reluctant to risk opening it in case the sudden intake of air caused the fire to flare up and out at him.

But if someone was in there... In trouble...

He ran back down the steps and found a sturdy branch. He raced back up and stopped, ducking down several steps below the level and to the right of the door. Using the branch as an extension of his hand, he pushed the button that slid the door back.

Smoke poured outwards and upwards as the door hissed open.

There was no sign of fire.

Greatly relieved, Virgil took a deep breath and crawled under the blinding smoke into the building. He was sure that he wouldn't have far to go...

He was right. His searching fingertips came across an outstretched hand. He moved further forward, grabbed some clothing and pulled the body back towards the door and fresh air. Now he was able to see who the victim was...

Tin-Tin's face was pale, and she didn't appear to be breathing.

Eager to get her away from the acrid smoke, he automatically pulled her into a fireman's lift and carried her to the ground at the base of the steps. Already his mind was going through the steps of coronary pulmonary resuscitation.

Check the airway is clear...

Check whether the patient is breathing...

Check the circulation...

He laid her gently on the ground...

"M-M-M-Mr T-T-T-T!" Brains ran into the lounge.

Jeff looked up. "What, Brains?"

"S-S-S-S," Brains stopped in frustration. "F-F-F-F... R-R-R-R..."

"Whoa," Jeff rounded the desk and placed his hands on his friend's shoulders. "Calm down! Take a deep breath... Now, what's wrong?"

"S-S-Smoke!" Brains managed to gasp out.

At once Jeff became concerned. "Where?"

Scott was on his feet, his mind already preparing a plan of action. His brothers were poised, ready for his command.

"R-R-Round House."

"What!"

"T-T-Tin-T-T..."

"Tin-Tin's there?" Alan asked in alarm.

Brains nodded.

"Let's go!" Scott ordered.

"Boys...!" Jeff started to say, but they'd already departed to their emergency stations. "Well... I guess I'm not in charge at the moment. Do you want to head up to the Round House, Brains? I'll let Mother know, and... I don't want to worry Kyrano unnecessarily, but he should be told. I'll take care of that too."

"Y-Yes, Mr Tracy."

"Okay. I'll meet you there shortly..."

Much to Virgil's relief, Tin-Tin had started coughing as soon as he placed her on the ground, so he rolled her into the recovery position. Her hair fell over her eyes and he tenderly brushed it back and tucked it behind her ear.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Virgil?" she coughed again.

"Relax. You're safe."

"What..." she appeared to remember what had happened. "How'd I get out?"

"I pulled you out. How are you feeling?"

"Okay..."

Worried, Virgil glanced back up at the building. Smoke was still pouring out of the door. "Is anyone else in there?" he asked.

"No." Tin-Tin shook her head and attempted to sit up.

"Take it easy, Honey," Virgil said anxiously. "Just lie there a bit."

"No, I'm okay," Tin-Tin protested, and managed to get into a sitting position.

The wind changed direction.

They were smothered in a suffocating wall of smoke. Tin-Tin started chocking again.

"Come on, let's get you away from here," Virgil coughed. He picked her up and carried her to a convenient flat rock upwind of the Round House. "Comfortable?" he asked as he supported her, letting her lean against his arm.

"Yes. Thank you..."

There was a roar from three hoverbikes driven by men wearing fire resistant coveralls.

Scott cut the power to his 'bike and jumped off, grabbing a first aid kit. "Gordon! Check the perimeter!" He ran over to where the two people were sitting. "Tin-Tin! Are you okay? What happened?" he was untangling an oxygen mask as he said this and pressed it over her face, pulling the strap back over her head. Alan hovered about anxiously.

"I don't know," she replied, the mask fogging up as she spoke. "I was checking the alarm system when the place filled up with smoke."

"Any flames?"

"No."

"Gordon!" Scott called. "Anything?"

"Negative. No external sign of fire, but there's a heck of a lot of smoke."

"Okay. Get the equipment! We're going in! Alan! You stay here. Keep an eye on Tin-Tin... Also keep checking the perimeter for any sign of fire or any increase in the amount of smoke. Let me know immediately if you spot any..." Another hoverbike levitated into view. "Ah, good... Brains! Help Tin-Tin will you! Come on, Gordon." The pair of them donned their protective helmets and mounted the steps to the smoke consumed doorway.

Brains dismounted and retrieved his more extensive first-aid kit from the storage compartment. He placed a vital signs monitor on Tin-Tin's wrist. "S-Seems normal," he said, taking the reading. "How's your breathing feeling?"

"I'm okay, Brains," Tin-Tin reassured him.

Brains smiled. "I-I'll let Mr Tracy and your father know." He retrieved a transmitter from his kit.

Tin-Tin went to remove the oxygen mask.

"L-Leave it on," Brains advised. "At least until we get back to the house."

Alan finished a circuit of the Round House. He saw nothing out of the ordinary until he came upon the little tableaux again. He scowled at Virgil who still had his arm about Tin-Tin.

He was about to say something when another hoverbike roared into the scene. Jeff Tracy dismounted...

"See anything, Gordon?" Scott asked.

"Negative." Gordon peered through the image that was projected onto the visor of his helmet. With this device the smoke was invisible to them while their surroundings were standing out clearly. "What do you think caused it?"

"Don't know. I'm more concerned about why we weren't alerted when the fire first started," Scott stated as he moved forward slowly. "The alarms can't have been working. They should have been ringing the house down!"

"Yeah. That's not good. We're lucky it didn't happen in one of the sleeping quarters at night."

"Keep looking. If we can find out what's wrong, we can prevent it happening again."

They kept up their slow procession checking the main hallway and the rooms leading off. They came to an open panel in the wall and a pile of tools on the floor.

"Must be where Tin-Tin was working?" Gordon suggested.

"Why was she up here?" Scott asked. "She said something about checking the alarm system? Why?"

"Don't know."

"Why were you up here, Tin-Tin?" Jeff asked.

"I was doing some routine checks on the safety systems," she replied through the oxygen mask. "I discovered that there was a fault in the fire alarm up here."

Brains nodded in agreement. "Sh-She came up here to repair it."

"Did you find what was wrong?" Jeff asked.

Tin-Tin shook her head, the oxygen line rattling against its canister. "I'd only just opened the main control box, when I became aware of smoke. It must have started on the far side of the building. Like an idiot I thought I could outrun it. I know I should have crawled, but I thought..." she shrugged hopelessly.

"How'd you get out?" Alan asked.

His father looked at him. "I thought you were checking the perimeter."

"It's all clear. I wanted to check that Tin-Tin was okay."

"I'm fine, Alan," she smiled at him through the mist of oxygen. "Virgil saved me."

Embarrassed, Virgil saw four pair of eyes turn to him. "I didn't do anything special. Just pulled her out."

"I'd collapsed," Tin-Tin admitted.

Brains frowned and checked her VSM again.

Scott and Gordon examined the area around where Tin-Tin had been working and found nothing amiss. They continued on.

Scott opened up a radio link. "Anything we should be aware of, Alan?"

"Negative. We're all clear out here."

"How's Tin-Tin?"

"She's fine."

Scott stopped in his tracks. There was something in the way that Alan had said 'she's fine' that didn't ring true. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Alan said abruptly.

Scott and Gordon looked at each other and shrugged. They continued following the curved layout of the building.

"Hello! What's this?" Gordon turned his heat locator towards the wall.

"What have you found?"

"A definite hotspot. Have you got a reading?"

"Yep." Scott was examining his own heat locator. "It's pretty localised."

"It's also behind this panel," Gordon felt along the panel's edge.

"Got the extinguisher ready?" Scott asked. "I'm going to break through."

"F-A-B."

Scott made short work of the wall and exposed the interior cavity. The meter registering the amount of smoke in the room escalated sharply. "No sign of any fire,' he grunted. "But it's sure hot in here."

Gordon pointed his extinguisher into the cavity and gave it a burst. Almost immediately their sensors showed a dramatic decrease in the levels of smoke and heat.

Scott cautiously peered back into the hole. "The wiring's charred. Must be where it started."

"So what caused it?" Gordon asked impatiently.

"I – don't – know," Scott said slowly. "I can't see... Hang on!"

"What!"

"Here's the culprit," Scott reached inside and pulled something out.

"Well! The little devil! He won't be doing that again," Gordon exclaimed.

"How'd it get in here?" Scott asked. "I thought we'd done a good job in sealing this place."

"Obviously not good enough... Shall I foam it?"

Scott stood back. "Go to it."

Gordon took up another canister and sprayed into the wall. The foam that was ejected quickly congealed and hardened, sealing the damaged wiring and preventing oxygen from getting in. "There we go," he said in satisfaction, "International Rescue saves the day again."

They double-checked the interior of the building, ensuring that there were no other hotspots.

Scott looked around. "We'll have a heck of a clean up job in here. There'll be soot everywhere!"

"Well don't start ordering people around when we do it. Virgil's probably convinced now that you're some kind of tyrant."

"Tyrant? What's that supposed to mean?"

"The way you were ordering us about before we came in here..."

"That's my job!" Scott said indignantly. "Doesn't matter whether the rescue is at home or in deepest Mongolia, my job is to co-ordinate and that means giving orders!"

"I know that! But I wish you'd give Virgil a chance to get to know you better, and not just as Genghis Khan."

"Genghis... Now look, Gordon! Do you think you could do a better job as Rescue Co-ordinator?"

"No. And I would never suggest that I attempt to. But I wish you'd stop running away from him."

"Running away? I've never run away from anyone or anything in my life!" Scott protested angrily.

"You could have fooled me. Anyone would think you didn't like him!"

"You know why I..."

"You know there's not a person on this island who would mind if you'd take a more active role in helping him," Gordon continued on.

"I can think of one person who'd be against it," Scott muttered darkly as he started to pick up their discarded gear.

Gordon watched him for a moment. "Can I tell you something, Scott?"

Scott was concentrating on packing some of the equipment into his bag. "Shoot," he said absently.

"You're not going to like it."

"What have you done? Put glue on Thunderbird One's seat?"

"No. I..." there was no hint of humour in Gordon's voice. "Promise you won't get mad with me?"

Still crouched on the floor, Scott looked up at him. "This sounds serious."

"I guess you could say it is..."

Scott waited patiently.

Gordon took a deep breath and plunged in. "I sometimes wish he'd died."

Scott froze. Then he straightened and looked at his brother. "You what? Who?"

"Virgil," Gordon said quietly. "Instead of getting amnesia I wish... sometimes... I wish he'd died instead."

"Whoa!" Scott exclaimed. "Back the truck up. I can't have heard you properly. You wish he was dead?"

"No. I'm glad he's alive, but... But sometimes I wish he'd died." Gordon watched Scott's features darken in anger. "Don't hate me," he pleaded.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"I just think... that... if he'd died we'd be starting to get over it by now. It's been nearly a month."

"I don't understand," Scott was struggling to maintain his temper.

"Look at us all. We're in a kind of limbo. While Virgil's still got amnesia and is still with us we know something's wrong and we keep on hoping that it'll right itself. But we can't live as we normally did. If he'd died we'd have accepted it by now."

"Accepted it...?" Scott's voice had a dangerous quality to it. "Do you remember when Ma died...?"

"No I..."

"...Because if you did you'd know that it takes longer than a month to get over something like that. It's something you never recover from. I don't believe you, Gordon! He's your brother. He's OUR brother!"

"It's not that I want him dead. I... I love him, like a brother," Gordon tried to smile an ingratiating grin through his protective mask.

"You're tired, Gordon!"

"No I'm not. I'm exhausted! I haven't had an uninterrupted nights sleep in a month! That's what I'm on about!"

"I'm getting out of here," Scott snarled. "I'm not going to listen to any more of this! I don't even want to think about it." He took a step and then whirled round back onto his brother. "And if I hear you've mentioned this to another soul, I'll... I'll do something to you that you'll never find in a manual of good leadership. Something that Genghis Khan would have been very familiar with." He began to stalk towards the door.

"Scott..."

"I can't believe it!"

"Scott..."

"Dead!"

"Scott!"

Scott winced as his eardrums were assaulted by the shout, amplified by the speakers in his hood. He spun back, dropping some of his equipment. "What!"

"Don't storm off like this. Listen to me."

"What do you want, Gordon? Absolution? Do you want me to say it's okay to wish that Virgil were dead? Because it's not gonna happen!"

"No! What I want is to stop thinking like this! I want to be able to have a good nights sleep! I want to know that life is as it always was! I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself! I want you to help more! I want this nightmare to end!"

Scott looked at his brother whose voice had risen to such a pitch that it seemed that he might break down at any moment. "We've got to get out of here. They'll all be wondering what we're doing."

"No, they'll think we're triple checking everything. Please let me explain. I don't want you mad at me like this."

"Fine! Explain! You've got until I get to the door. After that I don't want to hear another word!" Scott picked up his dropped articles and began trekking back along the hallway.

Gordon ran after him and grabbed his shoulder. "Listen to me! You must realise how this is tearing us apart! Just give me five minutes."

Scott gave an irritated sigh and placed his bag on the floor. "You've got two."

"Okay." Relieved, Gordon took a deep breath. "Do you realise that I haven't played a practical joke in the past month..."

"Is that what this is about? You're feeling sorry for yourself? Well sorry, Gordon, but I'm not interested." Scott picked up the bag and turned for the door.

Gordon ran round and placed himself in Scott's way. "No! It's not only about me. There's you as well..."

"Don't bring me into this! It's not me who wants our brother dead!"

"You're already involved. You're treating Virgil as if he's a leper and you're scared to go near him. As a result you're in a bad mood all the time and you take it out on the rest of us."

"I'm not scared..."

"Yes you are. You're scared you'll upset him. You're scared you bring on another of those attacks, whatever they were. Do you realise that he hasn't had one in weeks?"

"Shows I'm doing the right thing then."

"Rubbish, Scott. Those attacks were coincidence, pure and simple. Nothing to do with you."

"I wish I was sure of that."

"And there's not only the way we've been behaving. There's Alan as well. You've seen how he looks when Virgil and Tin-Tin are together."

The bag slipped from Scott's fingers again. "Yes."

"And John... He's been lucky being up in Thunderbird Five away from all this..."

"I've been giving him updates."

"So have I. But an update is nothing compared with being involved in the situation. It's going to be a heck of a shock to him to find out how we're all not coping. And Dad..."

Scott looked sharply at Gordon. Now he was prepared to listen.

"...You must have realised how strained he's become over the last few days. He's trying to pretend everything's normal, but we both know the stresses he's under. At some point he's going to explode in one way or another, and I don't want to be around when that happens... And Grandma..."

Scott held up a hand. "Okay, Gordon. I've got the picture," he said quietly.

"It's just that every now and then I look at us all, and remember how we were, and wish things were the same as they'd always been."

"I wish that too, but trust me, Gordon, Virgil's death wouldn't have solved our problems. It would have created a whole lot of new ones."

"I know," Gordon said sheepishly. "That's why I wanted to talk to you. I had to get it off my chest... I've been feeling guilty... I don't want him dead. I'm glad he's still with us, but I want... I NEED to know that things will get better." He looked back at his big brother. "Do you understand now?"

Scott nodded sombrely. "Believe it or not, I do. I don't agree with your solution, but I do understand."

"You're not mad with me?"

Scott shook his head and started walking on slowly. "You've been under a heck of a lot of strain haven't you?"

Gordon nodded and followed. "I'm not cut out to act as big brother to my big brother. That's your role! Or John's."

"Well, John's back tomorrow. Maybe he'll be able to help you."

"Or you could..."

Scott shook his head regretfully. "No I couldn't."

They stopped.

"Well, here's the door," Gordon said, trying to sound as if they'd just had a friendly chat over coffee... "Thanks for listening. I'm sorry if I upset you."

"You startled me, that's all. That's the last thing I would have expected you to say."

"You don't hate me?"

Scott shook his head. "No, Gordon. I don't hate you. Do you feel better now?"

"No..." Gordon said sadly. "Not really. The nightmare's continuing on isn't it. But," he straightened his shoulders decisively, "I'm not going to let myself think anything so horrible again."

"Good," Scott said firmly. "Once we're through this door, the whole subject's forgotten. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Scott."

"Smiles on. Nothing's wrong. We've dealt with nothing more serious than some barbequed wiring. Right?"

Gordon plastered a smile to his face. "Right!"

The door slid open.

They emerged into the daylight.

Everyone was looking at them as they removed their helmets.

Almost everyone.

"Well, that's another job well done," Gordon said cheerfully.

Scott looked at the faces regarding them. None of them looked especially happy. They were registering varying degrees of disapproval, dismay, or in Tin-Tin's case, disgust. Worriedly he crouched down so he could get closer. "How are you feeling, Honey."

"Fine," she said bluntly.

He was taken aback by the curtness of her reply. "What's wrong?"

Jeff took the communications unit from Scott's waist. "I thought you knew procedures better, Scott." His voice was quietly angry as flicked a switch from 'transmit only' and snapped the microphone button to the off position.

"You mean you heard..." Scott turned his attention to Virgil who was studiously examining the moss on a rock.

"Oh, heck," Gordon said quietly. "I guess it sounded pretty bad. I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you try to warn us?" Scott asked.

"I wanted Virgil to hear first hand how you two work together," Jeff said coldly. "We heard more than we expected. If that's an example of how you normally carry on during an emergency, I'm not impressed."

"Sorry," Scott said meekly.

No one said anything for a full minute.

"So... what caused the fire?" Alan asked with forced cheeriness.

Scott held out his hand. Lying in his palm were the charred and mangled remains of an insect slightly smaller than a mouse. "A dolgeta." He dropped it to the ground.

"Decided to snack on the wiring did it?" Alan's tone still sounded false as he tried to relieve the tension in the atmosphere. "I don't know why those beasts have a taste for electrical items."

"Dolgetios Tracii," Brains explained hastily, also trying to fill the void the silence had created. "Th-They are endemic to this i-island, N-No mice occur here naturally, and dolgetas have evolved to fill their niche. Th-They are omnivorous and will eat a-almost anything. Unfortunately they are drawn to wires, and c-circuit boards, which is why we sealed all the buildings when we built them. I must examine the R-Round House thoroughly and find the entrance point. It'll take some t-time and I will need help..."

No one appeared to be listening to him and he lapsed back into an uneasy silence wondering if it would be tactful to leave quietly.

Tin-Tin wasn't worried about being tactful as she stood abruptly. "I'm going back to the house," she said brusquely. Then she turned to the man crouched at her side and gave him a grateful smile "Will you help me with the oxygen cylinder, Virgil?"

Before Virgil had a chance to stand up or reply, Alan pushed between them, causing his brother to fall backwards. "I'll do that!" He picked the cylinder up.

"But I asked Virgil," Tin-Tin insisted, reaching out to help him to his feet. "He's the one who saved me. I want to thank him when I've got rid of this mask."

"Can't you thank him with it on?" Alan asked anxiously.

"It's okay," Virgil mumbled. "You help her, Alan. I... I've got to go find the sketchpad anyway... I dropped it somewhere." He briefly raised his face to the surrounding group, but didn't look Gordon in the eye.

Gordon suddenly found himself wishing he could crawl into a dolgeta's burrow.

Virgil lowered his eyes back to the ground, shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned away.

"Virgil!" Tin-Tin protested, but he was already walking slowly back down the path.

Everyone looked accusingly at Alan whose expression was a mixture of defiance and shame. "Don't blame me! I didn't wish him dead!"

Gordon groaned. "I didn't mean it!" he protested.

"Leave Gordon alone, Alan," Scott ordered. "You don't understand."

"And you do? You've hardly spent 10 minutes with Virgil for the past month!"

"I've done that for him..."

"Really!"

"Oh!" Angrily Tin-Tin tore off the oxygen mask. "You... Men!"

"Tin-Tin!" Brains protested.

"I'm alright, Brains! I don't need that thing." She turned on the Tracy boys. "It's not Virgil who needs reminding that you're his brothers! It's you three!" She stomped over to where Virgil had discarded the pad earlier and found the pencil nearby. She picked them up and thrust them at Gordon. "You'd better apologise...!" He accepted them guiltily as she rounded on the other two Tracy brothers. "All three of you! I'm going home!"

"Can I help you down the path, Tin-Tin?" Alan asked.

"Leave me alone, Alan! I don't need your help." Tin-Tin turned her back on him. "Virgil!" she called. "Wait!"

He stopped when he heard her call and reluctantly turned back. He waited for her to catch up with him, which she did quickly, slightly out of breath.

"You should be taking it easy," he told her. "Not running after me."

"I wanted to say thank you," she insisted.

He waved her thanks away. "It was nothing. Anyone would have done it. Any of them."

"But it wasn't them, it was you." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Virgil."

Virgil reddened in embarrassment, touched his cheek, and took a step backwards nearly stumbling into a ditch in the process. "I... You... I'll see you back at the house." He resumed his trek back to the Villa at twice the speed he had been walking before.

She caught up with him and laced her arm through his in a friendly manner. "We'll go home together."

From above five figures watched them leave.

None of them were happy...

Fourteen

Gordon stood outside the door to Virgil's bedroom. He ran his hand through his still damp hair and then hastily dried it on his trouser leg. He shifted the sketchpad from one hand to the other, before passing it back again. He raised a hand to knock on the door before dropping it back to his side.

He rotated his shoulders, steeled himself and knocked forcefully on the door.

He heard a voice from within. "It's open."

Gordon hesitated a moment before sliding the door back.

Virgil was sitting on the window seat; knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. He was looking out over the Pacific Ocean.

"Um... Hi," Gordon said lamely.

"Hi," Virgil said quietly without diverting his gaze from the scene outside.

"I... um... I've brought you your sketchpad."

"Thanks."

"Tin-Tin found it."

"Oh."

"I would have brought it back earlier, but I thought I should have a shower first. Didn't want to leave your room smelling like a smoked chicken had been in here," Gordon gave an awkward chuckle.

Virgil didn't acknowledge the weak attempt at humour.

"Ah... C-Can I come in?" Gordon asked clumsily.

"It's your house."

"It's your room."

Virgil was silent.

"I... I'll leave the pad on your desk shall I?" Gordon did so.

He watched as one of Virgil's hands clenched tighter around the material of his trouser leg.

"I... uh... I looked at the picture. It's good."

"Thanks."

Gordon decided that it was time to treat the situation has he would any swimming race. He dove in decisively. "Look. I'm sorry for what I said. I know it sounded terrible, but I didn't say it because I meant it. I said it because I had to tell someone, or I thought I'd go crazy. I thought that it was a good opportunity because no one would overhear me. Scott would shout at me and that would be the end of it...Obviously I was wrong..." He paused in case Virgil wanted to comment.

Virgil didn't.

Gordon steeled himself for another lap. "I didn't want to hurt you and I still don't. You've got enough problems; you don't need me adding to them. And, if it's any consolation, Scott looked as if he was ready to hit me so hard I wouldn't know what day it was..." Virgil flinched and Gordon suddenly realised why. He grimaced. "I'm sorry. That was a tactless thing to say... I can be tactless sometimes. Especially when I'm tired. I say things without thinking. Though sometimes when I do think, things aren't necessarily much better... as you heard today..."

Virgil was still regarding the scenery, but the grip on his trouser leg had lessened.

Gordon hoped he was on the home stretch. "I'm honoured that you trust me enough to let me help you and I don't want to betray that trust. No one's really ever really trusted me in that way before. Not in the caring brother role... Not even Alan... I've always been the second youngest brother - the joker - the one who gets into trouble and drags others in with me." Gordon prodded the carpet with his toe. "I guess I'm not used to looking after one of my brothers. That's always been Scott's job, or John's... or yours..." Gordon sighed. "I'm sorry, Virgil. Please forgive me... I want us to be friends as well as brothers." He held out his hand hopefully.

It took Virgil a moment to look round. He regarded Gordon's outstretched hand. "You really don't want me dead?"

"No!" Gordon shook his head frantically. "Definitely not. Not ever. Not for a thousand, million, trillion years. I want you to get better. I want things to be as they were. I want you to be as you were... That's all. Please forgive me..." He stopped gabbling, feeling that he was making even more of a fool of himself.

"You mean that?"

"Yes!" Gordon nodded emphatically. "Most definitely yes!"

He was more than a little relieved when Virgil gave a small smile and shook his hand.

That morning was Alan's last on Earth for a month. Going back to Thunderbird Five was never a totally appealing prospect, but this month, in Alan's opinion, the thought of leaving was even worse. He finished packing and tried to decide what else he needed to do before he left. He decided that he was packed and ready, so instead of heading back to his room he made his way to Tin-Tin's. She was in her sewing room tacking together a new outfit. "Are you leaving already, Alan?" She stood to give him a goodbye hug.

He gave her an embrace that melted into a warm kiss that left her surprised and tantalised.

When he released her she looked at him closely. "Alan? What was that for?"

"So you don't forget me."

"And why would I be likely to forget you?"

"Virgil."

"Virgil?"

Alan nodded.

She frowned at him in confusion.

"Has he done... or said... anything?" Alan asked hesitantly.

"Such as?"

"Has he... insinuated that he would... like to get to know you better?"

"Anything? He asked if he could draw me..."

"He what!"

"He said he was sick of drawing inanimate objects and wanted to try a real person." She giggled. "He became all shy. He said he'd like to start with someone pretty. It was rather sweet really."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I was busy. I had a lot of work to do for Brains."

"Good girl."

"It was the truth."

"Well make sure Brains keeps you busy until I get back."

"Oh, Alan. What are you on about? Virgil's a sweetheart, he wouldn't try anything."

"Before he wouldn't. But I don't know about now. No one knows exactly what he's like... not even Virgil."

"Alan, you're being silly. He's lost his memory not his personality. There's no way Virgil would try anything unseemly. He just wanted a little drawing practice."

Alan grunted.

She caressed his cheek. "Look. I think you're overreacting, but I promise that I won't let him, or any other man 'try anything'. If he does I'll go straight to my father... or yours."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. "Thank you."

"But I don't know why you won't trust your own brother."

"Because, at the moment, I don't think that he believes that he is my brother."

She bit her lip.

"You think I'm being silly again."

"No, Alan," she said quietly. "This time I agree with you. I think he does doubt what we've told him."

"So you see why I'm worried about you?"

"Yes," she nodded. "But I can't believe that Virgil, whoever he thinks he is, would try anything. It would go against his nature."

Three Tracy men assembled in the lounge ready for departure to Thunderbird Five. Alan's bags had already been loaded via the equipment lift.

Jeff smiled at Virgil. "You look excited."

"I am. Thunderbird Two was a buzz at the speed she went. I can't wait to see what it feels like in Thunderbird Three."

"Well just do whatever Scott or Alan tell you, okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

Scott sat on one end of the couch. "You've got to sit on here to board."

Obediently Virgil took his place at the other end.

It was Alan's turn to sit down. "Move over," he instructed Scott, his frown telling his brother not to disobey.

Scott looked at him quizzically and reluctantly shifted so he was now seated in the middle of the couch next to Virgil.

"See you later, Gordon," Virgil said brightly.

"Later, Virgil," Gordon grinned. "Make sure our oldest and youngest brethren behave themselves."

"Have a good trip boys," Jeff said and pressed the button that sent them downwards deep into International Rescue's complex.

Virgil looked about him as the couch made its way along the conveyor system that ran along the track to Thunderbird Three, trying to take everything in...

Suddenly the ceiling lifted away, revealing International Rescue's rocket ship. Virgil stared upwards in awe. "How big...?"

Scott waited for his youngest brother to answer, but Alan remained silent. "87 metres," he eventually said.

"Bigger than Thunderbird Two then."

"That's right," Scott confirmed.

The couch came to a halt under Thunderbird Three. Virgil went to stand and was pulled back down into a sitting position by Scott. He looked at the other man in confusion; confusion that changed to surprise when the couch started rising up into the air. Virgil looked upwards again and had the feeling that he was going to be swallowed by the behemoth that was Thunderbird Three.

The couch had no sooner reached its destination than Alan was on his feet. "Prepare for launch," he said perfunctorily and stepped into the lift that took him to the flight deck. Scott and Virgil watched his scowl slide upwards.

"What's with him?" Virgil asked.

"I don't know," Scott replied. "You'd better sit in that seat over there. I'll help you strap in."

Virgil found himself gripping tightly at the restraints that held him firmly in his seat. He didn't know if he were more nervous or excited. A flight into space seemed so impossible, and yet here he was about to undertake this journey.

He felt the jets beneath him build up power and then explode into life. He felt the force of gravity against his body and the mighty rocket was forced skywards.

He felt a sense of relief that they hadn't been blown to smithereens.

He was pleased when Scott told him to release his safety belt. Together they journeyed upwards in the lift. Virgil was that excited that he barely realised that Scott was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep a reasonable distance between the pair of them.

The doors slid open to reveal Thunderbird Three's flight deck.

Alan was sitting at the controls. He hadn't lost his scowl.

Scott pointed at a monitor. "Go take a look outside."

Virgil was more than happy to accede to his suggestion. "How fast are we going, Alan?"

Alan studied his control panel intently.

"Alan," Scott nudged him. "Virgil asked you a question."

"Did he?" Alan replied uninterestedly.

Scott frowned at him. "He asked you how fast Thunderbird Three was travelling."

"Oh... Fast, really fast," Alan replied.

Scott gave Virgil an apologetic shrug.

"So... What does everything do?" Virgil asked Alan.

"Lots of complicated stuff. You wouldn't understand... Not now."

"Alan," Scott said in a quiet, but threatening voice.

Alan ignored him.

Virgil's earlier feelings of excitement had dissipated quickly. Someone or something had obviously upset Alan, and Virgil had an uneasy feeling that it was him, though he had no idea how or why. "Is something wrong, Alan?"

"Apart from you having amnesia?"

"Alan!" Scott said more forcefully.

"No, nothing's wrong. And it had better stay that way."

Scott was getting angry. "Alan! What's got...?"

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Three."

"This is Thunderbird Three. Go ahead, John," Alan said quickly.

"Hiya, Alan I've got you on my trackers. You got any passengers this time?"

"Yep. Virgil's on board."

"I'll bet you're enjoying showing him around Thunderbird Three. I'm dying to show him Thunderbird Five." John was in a cheerful mood. It sounded out of place in the harsh atmosphere that was currently pervading the control room. "Did you bring lunch?"

"Grandma's packed a full picnic."

"Great! I'm getting sick of my cooking," John chattered on obliviously. "Can I have a word with Virgil?"

Alan motioned for Virgil to come round so that he could see John on the video screen. "Hi, John."

"Hi there, Virgil. Glad you're able to visit this time. Enjoying the flight?"

Enjoying wasn't an adjective Virgil would use at the moment. "Um. The launch was exciting."

John laughed. "I'll bet. I've done it often enough that it's all rather ho hum to me now. So... which do you prefer? Thunderbird Three or Thunderbird Two?"

"Thunderbird Two," Virgil replied without thinking. "I know Thunderbird Three's faster, but you get more of a sensation of speed in Thunderbird Two."

Alan's frown deepened.

"Glad to hear it," John noted. "I would have been worried if you'd preferred the red rocket. I would have thought that something was seriously wrong, instead of only very."

Scott found himself nodding in agreement.

Virgil actually laughed.

"I'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your flight. Won't be long and I'll be able to show you what a REAL Thunderbird is like."

Alan snorted.

Virgil stood back and gave Thunderbird Three's pilot plenty of space to fly his rocket.

Docking was uneventful. When he was sure that all procedures had been followed and everything was locked together securely, Scott opened the access way between Thunderbird's Three and Five. "Go on, Virgil. We'll..."

John appeared in the doorframe. "Hi, guys!"

He received a flat chorus of "Hi, John," in return.

"Why don't you take Virgil on his tour," Scott suggested. "I'll help Alan transfer his gear over."

"Sounds good to me," John grinned. "Come on, Pal."

Virgil eagerly followed him out of Thunderbird Three.

Scott waited until he was sure that they'd both entered Thunderbird Five. Then he turned back to Alan. "Right! What's your problem with Virgil?"

"I don't have a problem. It's Virgil who has the problem."

"You were ignoring him."

"Yeah, well. You'd know all about that, Scott."

"Alan...!"

"It's like Gordon said this morning. You've barely spent 10 minutes with him."

"Maybe... But I don't ignore him. And I'm certainly not rude to him."

"You don't go out of your way to be friendly either."

"This isn't about me. Something's got into you. What?"

Alan was in a stubborn frame of mind. "Unlike Gordon, I know when to keep my mouth shut."

Scott shook his head disapprovingly. "Maybe it's just as well you're going to be out of the way for a month. Give you a chance to cool that hot head of yours down."

"Yeah. And I'm sure there's some people who'd love to have me out of the way."

Scott looked at him. "Who?"

Alan face turned red. "Are we going to move the supplies? Or am I expected to starve for the next month."

"Alan. I want to know what's going on!"

"And I've got work to do. I think you said something about helping me...?"

"How was the flight?" John asked shrewdly.

"It was... interesting," Virgil replied.

"Something happened didn't it?"

"Like what?" Virgil feigned ignorance. It was a facial expression he'd had plenty of experience with over the last month.

"I know Alan and Scott. Alan had his 'spat the dummy' expression on, and Scott was too quick getting rid of us. I know you too. You were uncomfortable with the situation. So what happened?"

"I don't know. I've obviously done something that Alan didn't like. The problem is I don't know what." Virgil's brow creased in thought. "It can't be the amnesia causing it, can it? I haven't had any short-term memory loss up till now."

"I'd doubt it. Knowing Alan, he's probably realised that he's forgotten his shorts, and he's looking for someone else to blame. You're the easiest target."

"Why me?"

John shrugged. "He probably thinks you're less likely to argue. He's probably told himself that he was so excited about taking you for a ride in Thunderbird Three, that he forgot them."

Virgil seemed satisfied with the answer.

John wasn't. What he'd just said was a total load of hogwash and he knew it. He'd have a quiet word with Scott on the way home. In the meantime... "Let the tour commence!" he spread his arms in greeting. "This is the nerve centre of International Rescue."

"Wow!" Virgil goggled at all the equipment and lights and dials. "How do you keep track of what does what?"

"Practice," John told him. "It's helps that I did a lot of the design work and construction with Brains. It was quite a challenge. Working out how to intercept every radio signal on the planet and then filter out those that contain mindless drivel... Which is most of them."

"But not everyone speaks English. How do you cope with that?"

"The computer interprets most languages. I'm handy with a few. There's not too many people I can't hold a conversation with."

"You make it sound as though you like interacting with people and yet you're stuck up here for a month at a time," Virgil noted.

"Being able to and wanting to are two different things," John told him. "It's a useful skill to have, but I'm just as happy alone with a good book or a telescope." He led the way to the small library. "Most of the books in here are in digital form. If we had every issue we hold here housed in the traditional way, Thunderbird Five would be bigger than the moon! And not very easy to hide from Earth." He picked up a hardback book, and caressed it lovingly. "Mind you, there's nothing like the pleasure of turning paper pages for making the reading experience complete." He carefully placed the book back in its place. "How's your reading progressing?"

"Slowly," Virgil said sourly. "I can tell you the letters of the alphabet, but I'm not having a lot of luck sticking them together to form words. I do recognise our names though.

"Really?" John indicated a section of titles. "See if you recognise any of those." He indicated a wall of well-thumbed tomes.

Virgil looked at him curiously and then did as he was asked. He traced his finger along the spines, trying to piece together the letter combinations.

John found himself wishing that he hadn't made the suggestion as he watched his previously fluent brother struggle with the words.

At last Virgil came upon something recognisable. "That one says John Tracy! So does this one. And this..." he looked back at John. "Is that you?"

"That's me," John said.

"Mind if I look?"

"Go ahead."

Virgil carefully removed one of John's books from its shelf. He opened it and found John's picture smiling back at him. "It really is you. What's it about?"

"Astronomy. That one's about the quasar I found."

"The Tracy... Q.u.a.s.a.r," Virgil read out.

"Quasar. That's it. I discovered it so they named it after me."

Virgil stared at him. "That's amazing."

John chuckled. "Not really. You can pay to name a star after yourself nowadays."

"But you discovered a quasar..."

"Well you get a good view from up here. No atmospheric disturbance. Here," John took the book from Virgil's hands, "I'll show you another thing I found." He turned to the appropriate page. "That's a star I discovered. I called it Lucille after our mother."

"That's a nice idea," Virgil approved.

"I'd like to think that she'd appreciate it." A faraway look came into John's eyes. "I look for it sometimes, with my telescope, and it gives me a feeling that she's nearby."

"You still miss her," Virgil noted.

"Yeah, I do," John admitted. "We all do. She was an important part of our lives."

Virgil felt a familiar sense of emptiness. Here was a vital part of his history, yet he had next to no knowledge about it.

As if he sensed Virgil's change in mood, John deliberately perked up again. "Come on. I haven't shown you everywhere yet." He led the way out of the library and showed Virgil the sleeping quarters. Next stop was the observatory. John checked a telescope. "I've got it set up on Lucille. Take a look."

Virgil squinted through the eyepiece at the small bead of light. He found the idea of someone focusing on a star for company sad. "Don't you get lonely up here?"

"Sometimes. Though you guys usually keep in contact with me at least once a day. It makes it bearable. I've been getting lots of calls from Gordon." John looked at Virgil. "How is he?"

"Tired," Virgil admitted, "and it's my fault."

"Not really," John told him.

"Well I'm certainly the cause..." Virgil bit his lip. "Has anyone told you about what happened this morning?"

"No. No one has... They've obviously decided to keep it quiet... But I know."

"You know? How?"

"Like I said, this place picks up almost every radio signal in the world. And the ones from home are the clearest. Which you guys have a tendency to forget. Honestly I could blackmail each and every one of you... Anyway, when I realised it was some kind of emergency I listened in. Then... when I realised what Gordon was saying afterwards..." John shrugged. "I felt like a rabbit in the headlights. I knew something private was happening and yet I had to carry on listening to find out what was going to happen. How did everyone react afterwards?"

"There was only Alan, Tin-Tin, Brains, your... 'Father' and me listening."

"I'll bet you weren't happy."

"I don't think anyone was..." Virgil didn't feel like elaborating.

John understood. "The thing is, being up here I've developed a pretty good ear for hearing the nuances in people's voices. I hear what they are saying better than I can read their faces. I was feeling sympathy for Gordon a long time before Scott did. And I could hear that Scott wasn't far short of doing something drastic to Gordon. I was horrified at what Gordon was thinking, but I could hear that he was too. How's things between you?"

"He apologised," Virgil admitted.

"And?"

"And... I forgave him. I've got amnesia; I'm not blind. I can see how I'm affecting him. I can see how I'm affecting everyone."

"Yeah... well... I guess it's not something you learn to deal with in a hurry," John said awkwardly.

"Tell me about it," Virgil agreed.

"How about between you and Scott?" John asked.

Virgil shrugged. "No different," he said cryptically.

John decided they both needed cheering up. "Come on," he said brightly. "Enough doom and gloom. Time for lunch!"

The four of them ate in relative silence. When they'd finished Scott started packing up. "Time we headed home. Have you shown Virgil everything, John?"

"Nearly."

"Okay," Scott smiled. "You finish off and Alan and I can clean up."

Alan's almost permanent scowl deepened.

"Let me show you our latest project." John led the way into another room and over to a computer station. "It's simulation software. Initially it was for training purposes, but I'm adding in various communication strategies so that we can use it for real rescues. For instance..." he tapped a few keys, "let's pretend that there's a volcano erupting somewhere... For want of a better place we'll make it Ruapehu in the North Island of New Zealand. It's erupted before and there's every chance it'll erupt again. There isn't a large population centre nearby, but it does have a couple of ski fields on its flanks and it has wiped out bridges in the past with disastrous results."

Virgil watched with interest.

"Okay," John continued on. "Here's Ruapehu." A picture came up on screen.

"Is that a photo?" Virgil asked.

"No. It's a computer graphic. Realistic isn't it." The mountain rotated 360 degrees. "We're able to tap into satellites and bring up real time information, which gets fed into the computer. The instant the lake in the crater starts to rise we'll know about it. This simulation will predict where the crater wall will break and where the resulting lahar will flow. Let's bring in Thunderbird One..." a few taps of the keys and the rocket plane came soaring into view. "Now, supposing Scott lands here, and pops out to go for a stroll..." a little figure jumped out of Thunderbird One and wandered off screen.

Virgil felt that uneasy feeling return.

"I'm up here thinking, 'That's a stupid place to land, Scott'. So I run the simulation and..."

Ruapehu's crater wall disintegrated. A wall of mud, water and debris raced down from the summit. Virgil watched in grim fascination as it neared Thunderbird One, knocked its landing legs out from under it, and washed it away.

"Scott would not be pleased," John said with a trace of satisfaction as the little representation of his brother came back on screen and jumped about angrily. "That was Gordon's contribution," he explained.

"But... it all looked real," Virgil was staring at the computer screen.

That's what makes it so helpful," John told him. "Of course in real life there's no way Scott would do anything as foolhardy as that, but it adds a bit of interest. We can use it for tsunami, earthquakes, forest fires... We're still learning what we can use it for really."

"Fascinating," Virgil couldn't take his eyes off the images on screen. His mind was filled with troubled thoughts and ideas.

John didn't notice. "We've called it the 'Virtual International Rescue Geophysical Imitation Laboratory', or 'Virgil 2' for short." At Virgil's subsequent expression he gave a wry grin. "You didn't think much of the name it the first time you heard it either. It was Scott's idea and he was so pleased that he'd come up with something abstractly creative that none of us had the heart to tell him it was rubbish. You did say to me later that we should call it 'Scott's Creativity's Over The Top' or 'Scott 2'..." John's grin broadened. "I liked that suggestion but we've kept the slightly more logical name... Any questions?"

Virgil shook his head.

"Okay... I'd better go get my stuff," John said. "Dad doesn't like us being away from home for too long. Could cause problems if there's a call out. Do you want to wait here?"

Virgil nodded. He wanted time alone to think. He watched John walk out of the room and then turned back to the computer. 'Virgil 2'? Then what... or who exactly was 'Virgil 1'...?

He'd moved away from the computer and was gazing out the window at the millions of stars when he heard footsteps. He turned expecting to see John...

It was Alan.

Virgil gave him an uncertain smile. "All ready for your stay?" he asked politely.

"Yep," Alan replied bluntly.

"I'm just admiring the view," Virgil said unnecessarily. "You don't realise how many stars there are while you're on Earth, do you?"

Alan glared at him.

"No," Virgil replied quietly on his behalf. "What's wrong, Alan?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. And it had better stay that way."

"I'll agree to that," Virgil gave what he hoped was a winning smile.

"John and Scott are waiting for you, through there," Alan indicated a door.

"Oh. Thanks. See you in a month," Virgil said lamely. "Thanks for bringing me with you this time." He began walking towards the door.

"One thing before you go, Virgil!"

John and Scott were cooling their heels in the main communications room.

"What's going on, Scott?" John asked.

Scott was frowning at the door he was expecting Virgil to walk through. "What?" he asked absently.

"Between Virgil and Alan?"

"Oh... I don't know. The kid wouldn't tell me. I'd hazard a guess that he thinks that Virgil's moving in on his territory."

"You mean Tin-Tin?"

"Yeah. I mean Tin-Tin."

"Is he right to be worried?"

"Worried? About Virgil and Tin-Tin? Nah," Scott said dismissively. "She spends a lot of time tutoring him with his reading, but that's all. If Alan helped out more he'd see that."

"Are you helping out more?"

Scott looked embarrassed. "No."

"Then maybe you're missing something that Alan's seen."

"Come on, John. Can you see it? Virgil and Tin-Tin?" Scott laughed.

"No. But I haven't been home for a month. Things could change in that time. Gordon could start wishing that Virgil had died."

Scott started.

"I'm letting you know that I know," John informed him.

"How did you find out? Did Virgil tell you?"

John laughed. "Are you forgetting where you are, Scott?" He indicated Thunderbird Five's control room. "I overheard."

"Oh," Scott grinned sheepishly. "Were you as surprised as I was?"

"Probably more so. As I said, I haven't been home for a month."

Virgil turned back to Alan and was surprised to see thinly disguised anger on the younger man's face. "Yes?"

"Keep away from Tin-Tin," Alan's voice was low and threatening.

"Why?" Virgil asked, bewildered by the tone of the order.

"She's somewhat gullible. And she trusts you. Don't abuse that trust."

"How? What do you mean, Alan?"

"Do you still want to draw her?"

"Well... yes I'd like to. She has nice features..."

"Don't you dare go near her," Alan snarled.

"What? Why?" By now Virgil was thoroughly confused.

"If I see a single line on a page that looks like her, if I hear that you've so much as touched a hair on her head, you'll wish it wasn't only your memory that you're missing!"

"Alan? Why would I want to touch her?"

"Gordon told me how you had your eye on her."

"Gordon did what?" Virgil was startled. He forgot about Alan's concerns over Tin-Tin. Now he had a more personal issue. "But I've never said I was attracted to her. Why would he say I was?"

"You'd better ask him. That's if he's not hiding from you again."

"Gordon was hiding from me?"

"Yes. He needed time away from you."

"He needed..."

"He's sick of you. He was fed up with having you tail after him all the time. He needed a break."

A soft "Oh" escaped Virgil's lips.

"He told me how you said she was pretty."

"Why did he do that?"

"He's my friend," this was said in such a way that it was implied that Virgil wasn't. "He was looking out for me. We've always looked out for each other."

"He'd rather spend time with you?"

"Probably. Right now he'd rather spend time in his bed, asleep. You're making him sick, Virgil. In more ways than one."

"But I only..."

"Virgil?" John was calling him from beyond the door.

Virgil looked round. "I'm here," he said with some relief.

John poked his head in through the door. "Good," he said with a smile that vanished when he saw their expressions. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Alan said. "Virgil was just saying goodbye."

"Uh, yeah," eager to avoid further confrontation, Virgil agreed. "See you, Alan."

"Yes," Alan agreed. "I'll be seeing you."

John heard the warning in his brother's voice. "Ah, Virgil? Why don't you go through to Thunderbird Three? I've got a couple of points I should run through with Alan before I leave."

"Okay..." Virgil was glad to escape.

John watched him leave. Then he rounded on his other brother. "What's going on, Alan?"

"Nothing. I'm minding my own business."

"Where Virgil's concerned, it's everyone's business until he gets his memory back. Were you threatening him?"

"Just warning him about some dangerous things he's got to watch out for."

John folded his arms. "Such as?"

"Such as... not making Dad mad by being late back."

"He'll understand this time. Don't fob me off, Alan. What were you saying to him?"

"To look after Gordon and let him get some sleep."

John shook his head. "Not good enough, Kiddo."

"Don't call me that!" Alan snapped. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"Then stop behaving like a spoilt brat! Don't you trust Tin-Tin?"

"Leave her out of this!" Alan bristled.

"You can't tell me she's not at the root of it all."

"It's not her fault! It's... It's his!" Alan indicated the door that Virgil had exited.

John grew visibly angry. "Do you think Virgil chose to get amnesia?"

"He's choosing to prey on Tin-Tin. She's too naive!"

"I think she's wise enough to look after herself. And I don't think Virgil would choose to 'prey' on anyone!"

"You don't know what he's like now, John!"

"From what I've seen and heard, he hasn't changed that much." John stared down his brother. "And let me give you a bit of free advice, Alan. If you want to remain in Tin-Tin's good books, you'll grow up enough to let her do what she wants without having to worry about how you're going to react. Think about it! You've got a month!"

Scott looked at his watch. "What's taking him so long?" he muttered irritably. "Father'll kill us if we're too late."

"John said he had a couple points he had to talk to Alan about," Virgil said quietly.

"Yes, and I think I know what they were," Scott agreed. "But it shouldn't take this long." He looked at his brother. Virgil was looking miserable. "Cheer up. It may never happen."

"It already has," Virgil said. "It happened a month ago." He sighed. "Would you mind if I travelled alone? I've got a bit of a headache."

"Do you want something for it?" Scott asked in concern.

Virgil shook his head. "No, thanks."

"Take the elevator down to the lounge," Scott suggested. "You won't be disturbed there."

"Thank you." Virgil took him up on his suggestion.

John entered Thunderbird Three. "Where's Virgil?"

"In the lounge. He said he had a headache."

"I'll bet. And the headache's name is Alan Tracy. He wouldn't admit it, but I think he's threatened Virgil over Tin-Tin."

"He what!" Scott started to head back into Thunderbird Five. "I'll kill him!"

"Whoa!" John grabbed him by the arm. "If you do that, Dad will be angry because we'd be late and we'd have to leave Thunderbird Five unattended. Not to mention the fact that I'll probably be the one who'll have to clean up the mess." He released his grip. "I've already told him to grow up. We'll give him a month to cool down. If he hasn't by then... then you can kill him. Only leave a piece for me."

Scott gave him a grim smile. "You're on...!"

Fifteen  

It was a quiet trio who rose back up into the lounge at Tracy Island. Both Scott and John were keenly aware that Virgil was still feeling despondent after his 'discussion' with Alan.

In contrast their father was in high spirits. "Welcome home, John."

"Thanks, Dad."

"How was the trip, Virgil?" Jeff asked.

"Interesting," Virgil replied morosely and lapsed into silence.

"Ah, the wanderers return," Gordon's jovial greeting jarred sharply with the general mood as he entered the lounge, clad in swimming costume and towel. "So how's space travel suit you, Virgil?"

"Fine," Virgil replied as he stared at the carpet.

As if blaming him, Gordon glared at Scott when he heard his brother's emotionless tone.

In return Scott gave him a look that said 'don't blame me.'

Gordon decided Virgil needed cheering up. "Meet any aliens?"

"No."

"See any UFOs?"

"No."

"Sounds a bit dull to me." Gordon tried a different tack. "I'm going for a swim. Would you like to join me?"

Virgil shook his head. "I think I'll go work on the Traceset." For the first time he looked at Gordon, and Gordon saw some unknown emotion cross his brother's face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Tired," Virgil admitted as he stood. "I'll see you all later." He'd started walking out of the room when Tin-Tin walked in.

"Virgil!" She exclaimed happily. "You're back. Did you enjoy yourself?"

He nodded, unable to look at her. "'Scuse me," he said, and hurried through the door.

She stared after him in consternation and then looked curiously at the rest of the Tracy clan.

"All right," Jeff folded his arms and leant back on his desk. "What happened?" He scowled at his two eldest sons.

John answered in one simple word. "Alan."

"Alan?" Tin-Tin repeated. "What did he do?"

John and Scott looked at each other. They didn't feel right discussing this in front of her.

"Ah, Tin-Tin," Scott said cautiously. "This is kind of a family thing... I'm sorry, would you mind if we talked about it in private?"

Now she stared at him. She'd practically grown up with the Tracy boys and regarded herself as part of the family. She'd never been dismissed like this before. She wasn't sure how to take it...

"Sorry, Tin-Tin," John added when he saw her hesitate.

"Oh... Okay." She glanced at Jeff Tracy and saw him frowning at his two sons. She retired with dignity from the room.

"So what did Alan do?" Gordon asked when he was sure she was out of earshot.

"We don't know exactly," Scott explained.

"But we think he told Virgil to keep away from Tin-Tin," John added.

"He did what!" His father straightened up imposingly and glowered at the portrait of his youngest. "Why would he do that?"

"Jealousy?" Scott suggested.

"Why would he think that Virgil's interested in her?" Jeff asked.

John shrugged. "We don't know. Neither of them are willing to say anything about what happened."

"Um... I may have had something to do with it," Gordon said hesitantly. He flushed as three pair of eyes turned on him.

"What did you tell him, Gordon," Jeff growled.

"That Virgil made some comment about her being pretty. But I told him that he said that ages ago! About the day after his accident!" Gordon protested. "I told Alan that I told Virgil that Tin-Tin wasn't available to the rest of us! I told him that I told Virgil that we regard her as a sister! I told him that Virgil hasn't said anything in weeks! I told him..."

"Okay, Gordon. We got the picture," Scott said.

Gordon lapsed into a miserable silence.

"So now what do we do?" John asked.

"I say we force Alan to apologise," Scott rumbled.

"How?" John asked him. "He won't be home for another month, and any orders won't carry the same weight over the video link. They never do. And I'll tell you something for free," he added warningly. "I've only just got home. I'm not heading back up there in a hurry just so that lover boy can apologise."

They all looked at him in bewilderment.

"Aren't I allowed to enjoy being with my family once in a while?" he asked, sounding peevish.

"Sorry, John," Jeff said. "You're right of course."

"He wouldn't do it over the video anyway," Scott said. "It's easier to refuse something like that when you're 36,000 kilometres away from everyone else and a month away from retribution."

"And harder to accept that an apology's genuine," Gordon added.

"Don't worry about Alan," Jeff said. "I'll have a word with him later. The problem is Virgil."

"Are you sure that's what Virgil's problem is?" Gordon asked.

"Alan was sniping at him all the way to Thunderbird Five," Scott told him.

"And we left them alone for five minutes," John added. "When I found them again, Virgil was looking upset and Alan seemed to be pretty uptight."

Jeff sighed. "As if we don't have enough problems, without Alan adding to them. Sometimes I wonder if he's mature enough to be part of International Rescue."

"He is when we're on a mission," Scott reassured him. "It's just when he's at home he has a relapse."

"Do you want me to have a word with Virgil?" John offered. "I'd like to spend a bit of time with him anyway. Maybe I can get him to tell me exactly what Alan said, and then we can decide what needs to be done."

"Okay, John. We'll leave it in your hands," Jeff agreed. "In the meantime... What do we tell Tin-Tin?"

"She'll be devastated if she thinks Alan doesn't trust her," Scott noted.

John stood and stretched. "I'll leave you guys to sort it out. I'll go unload my gear and then have that chat with Virg."

"Virgil," Scott reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. Must remember that." John sauntered out of the room. He was halfway down the hallway when he ran into an embrace. "Hiya, Grandma."

"Welcome home, Darling. It's wonderful to see you." She looked up into his twinkling blue eyes and tweaked his cheek. "You're looking pale."

John laughed. "Grandma! You say that to me every time I come home. Don't worry, I'm going to get my stuff, go have a chat with Virgil and then go for my walk along the beach in the sun. As usual!"

She hugged him again. "Are you losing weight, John Tracy? I can feel some ribs!"

"Yep. My cooking's not a patch on yours. I'm dying to get stuck into some of your wonderful food so I can fatten up again. What's for dinner?"

She chuckled in delight. "It's a surprise."

"Apple pie?"

"You'll have to wait and see. Have you discovered anything new? Any new stars?"

"No. Brains' latest project has kept me busy. And I've been getting more calls than usual from everyone. They've been keeping me up with the play over Virgil."

At once she lost her smile. "There's been no change, John."

This time he gave her a reassuring hug. "So I hear. How are you coping?"

"Me? I just plod along, pretending nothing's wrong. We're all doing that."

John looked over her head. Tin-Tin was hovering uncertainly outside Virgil's room. "Um, excuse me, I'd better go get my things. Make sure that pie's good and hot, Grandma."

"I never said you were getting pie!" She wandered into the kitchen; her mind already beginning preparations for one of her famous apple pies.

Tin-Tin was about to knock on Virgil's door.

"Tin-Tin!" John called.

"John!" she gave him an uncertain smile. "I was... going to ask if Virgil wanted to get in any reading practise before dinner."

"I wouldn't," John suggested, "not now. I think the flight's upset him a bit. We'll give him a rest today shall we?"

She nodded reluctantly.

"And now that I'm back I'll help with his tutoring," John offered. "I'd like that. It'll give you a break too. I've heard that you've been helping him."

She nodded again.

"Thanks for looking out for him, Tin-Tin," John said sincerely. "I appreciate it. I know we all do... Virgil included."

"I've enjoyed helping him. He's been so defenceless..." She sighed. "I'll see you at dinner, John. I've got some sewing to do."

"Okay, Honey. See you later."

John quickly unloaded his bags from the goods lift and stowed them in his room without bothering to unpack. Then he went back down to Virgil's bedroom.

He knocked on the door.

There was no answer.

He slid the door open. "Virgil?"

A familiar voice answered him. "In here."

John went into the studio. The floor was strewn with bits of Traceset, some assembled, others lying singly.

Virgil was kneeling on the floor tinkering with the toy.

"Hi there," John greeted him. "What are you doing?"

"Keeping out of everyone's way," Virgil said morosely.

"Mind if I join you?"

"No, I don't mind. I'll enjoy your company until you become like everyone else and hate me."

"Hate you?"

Virgil nodded.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No," Virgil said sadly. "Your brothers would rather I went away and left them alone."

John ignored the 'your brothers' remark. "Why do you say that? We've always been close to our brothers."

"They don't like me... None of them."

"Virgil," John said helplessly. "That's ridiculous."

"They've probably sent you to look after me because no one else wants to."

"No. I come because I've missed you and I've been worried about you. A month is a long time to be away from someone you care about, especially when they're ill."

"Care?" Virgil repeated. "There's not too many people who would say that they care about me."

"There's a whole family of people who care about you," John informed him. "Now cheer up before I get depressed as well."

"See, I'm already upsetting you."

John cursed himself but retained his smile. "No you're not. Now, what are you making?"

"What I always make," Virgil sighed. "It's an aircraft..."

"What are the hooks on top for?"

"I wish I knew," Virgil said in frustration. "I keep putting them there, only now they retract. I've also starting giving it retractable wings..."

"Just like Thunderbird One," John noted.

"What?" Virgil looked at him in bewilderment.

"Just like Thunderbird One," John repeated.

Virgil stared at him blankly.

"Thunderbird One's wings open out to stabilise her in low speed flight," John explained. "Didn't Scott show you?"

"No. I haven't seen Thunderbird One for ages... and Scott hasn't shown me anything for nearly as long."

"He hasn't..." John appeared stunned. Then he shook his head in exasperation. "Virgil, our big brother is a moron. I sometimes think there's more space between his ears than there is between Ursa Major and Ursa Minor..."

"The Big Bear and Little Bear constellations," Virgil said quietly.

"Yes," John agreed. "How'd you remember that?"

"Every now and then something totally useless comes back to me."

"Well it wouldn't be useless if you were lost... and in the Northern Hemisphere." John picked up the plane. He pushed his finger against an exposed gear and the wings extended, exactly as those on Thunderbird One did. "It's uncanny..." He looked back at his brother. "You're still in there, Virgil Tracy. Quit hiding and come out."

"I wish I could." Virgil rubbed at his face as if he were trying to wipe away the barrier that he was trapped behind. Then he looked in the box the Traceset came in. "Here," he handed over the cloth bag. "I think these were yours."

John took the bag and tipped its contents onto the palm of his hand. "The lenses! The number of times I tried to make a working telescope out of this. I never succeeded. The light kept getting into the barrel. It was fun trying though."

Virgil gave a small smile.

John looked at his watch. "Look. I always go for a walk before dinner on my first day back. It gives me a chance to get some real vitamin D and fresh air, stretch my legs, and makes Grandma happy because I'm always 'too pale' when I come home from Thunderbird Five." He stood. "Would you like to come with me?"

Virgil looked at him. "Thanks for the offer, but I'd better not."

"Why not? I'd like you to come."

Virgil shook his head. "I don't want to upset your routine."

"You wouldn't be upsetting it."

"Yes I would. I'd upset your routine, I'd upset you, and you'd be like everyone else and wish I wasn't here."

"Virgil..." John sighed. "There's a lot of things I like about coming home. I love being out there close to the stars, but I love having my feet on the good solid Earth too. The longer I'm away from home, the more I appreciate it." He wandered over to the window and looked out. "I love seeing the clouds from below and not above. I love seeing the sky as blue and not black. I love hearing and smelling the ocean and not only seeing it as this blue green shape in the distance. I love walking along the beach. I love spending time with my family." He turned back into the room and looked at Virgil. "And I'd love for you to join me on my walk this time."

Virgil shook his head. "No. You'd only end up hating me like everyone else does."

"No I wouldn't. I've heard about the past month from everyone else. I want to hear it from your point of view. I'd value your company."

"Thanks, John. But I'd rather stay here. Out of everyone's way."

John could see that there was no point in pushing the matter. "What's the cot in the other room for?" he asked, even though he already knew.

"Gordon's been sleeping in it. We hoped that with him there I wouldn't have my nightmares. It hasn't worked though." Virgil twisted his hands together in frustration. "At night I dream nightmares and during the day I live them."

"I wish I could help," John said sincerely. "Tell you what!" he crouched down to Virgil's level. "What say tonight we give Gordon a break and I'll crash there. We can have our talk then! What do you think?"

For a moment he thought Virgil was going to refuse again. Then his brother smiled. "Would you mind?"

"No. It could be fun. Kind of like a sleep over. We'll raid the fridge for a midnight snack!"

Virgil managed a chuckle. "If you're sure..."

"I'm sure. I'll go tell Gordon now," John stood again. "Are you sure you don't want a walk?"

"No thanks. I'll stay here."

"Okay. Catch you at dinner."

"No... I'm not hungry."

"You're not... But you were always starving after trips to Thunderbird Five!" John said in amazement. "Surely you're hungry now?"

Virgil shook his head. "No... Give them my apologies will you?"

"Virgil... Are you genuinely not hungry, or is this because you don't want to see the family?"

"I'm not hungry," Virgil told the Traceset.

John lingered for a moment, unsure what to do next. "Okay. I see you later. I'll bring my stuff in after dinner. Okay?"

"Okay."

John left the room and strode through the lounge and down to the courtyard by the pool.

His family was relaxing there.

"Well I hope you're all pleased with yourselves!" John's opening remark was designed to get everyone's attention. "Gordon was right this morning when he said it was going to be a shock to me when I got home. But the shock's not how you're all not coping, it's how you've made a complete and utter hash of the way you've treated Virgil!"

"What!" Gordon sat up on his lounger. "How'd you know... Did someone tell you?" he glared at Scott angrily.

"He didn't hear it from me!" Scott retorted.

"Alan!" Gordon snorted.

"No, not Alan. He's not getting the blame this time. Why do you guys forget that I spend half my time in the biggest electronic bugging device in the world?" John asked. "Just once I'd like to not hear what my birthday or Christmas present is going to be before I get it. It takes all the fun out of the occasion."

"You were listening?" Gordon asked him.

"Of course I was listening. When I hear there's trouble at home, I listen. It's my job, and it's the only way I can keep in the loop back here sometimes."

"Never mind all that," Jeff said. "What do you mean by 'a complete and utter hash', John?"

"The poor guy's up there, closeted away in his room, absolutely miserable because he thinks none of you like him."

"Rubbish!" Gordon said.

"You might think so, but Virgil doesn't."

"You're exaggerating," Scott told him. "He might think that Alan doesn't like him, but he wouldn't think that about Gordon, and as for me..." he tailed off as he became aware where his speech was leading him.

"If you call the phrase 'I'll enjoy your company until you become like everyone else and hate me' an exaggeration, Scott, then fine. Our brother is convinced that none of you like him. And I want to know what you did to make him think that way."

"We haven't done anything!" Scott protested.

"I'm aware of that, Scott. That's been your problem. Now what's yours, Gordon?"

"Mine? I wasn't aware that I had a problem! I apologised! He accepted my apology! We were fine before he went to Thunderbird Five..." Gordon frowned as he thought back to the morning. "Weren't we?"

"I thought so," Scott consoled him. "He seemed happy enough."

"And what have you done, Dad?"

"Me?" Jeff Tracy looked stunned.

"You! He said, 'they don't like me, none of them', and I got the distinct feeling that he was meaning the whole family. Not just the three guys."

"I don't know..." Jeff started to say. Then he stopped. "Yes I do."

John waited for him to elaborate. "Well?"

Jeff wasn't about to satisfy his curiosity. He frowned at his newspaper.

John became angry. "That'll solve the problem!" he snapped. "Just ignore it and it'll go away. Don't you think Virgil would like the problem to go away? He's got to live with it 24 hours a day, seven days a week!"

"We're aware of that, John," Jeff said disapprovingly.

"You know what else he thinks? He thinks that you'd rather that he 'went away and left them alone'."

"Did you take a recorder into this discussion?" Gordon asked facetiously. "You seem to have the whole thing down pat."

"I didn't need a recorder, I've got a good memory. I was so shocked about how he thinks you think, that the whole thing has been burned into my mind. You realise that he doesn't want any dinner? He said he's not hungry, but the real reason is that he's avoiding you all!" John folded his arms. "He sends his apologies. Like you deserve it!"

His family looked at each other sheepishly.

"I'll take him something when I go to bed," Gordon said quietly.

"Don't bother. I told him that I'd be pleased to bunk down on the cot tonight. He seemed rather relieved."

Gordon looked hurt.

John looked at his watch. "Virgil was worried that he'd upset my routines, and that I'd hate him for it. Well I'm not going let that happen. I'm going for my walk. One of you is going to have to go up and talk to him. I'll let you decide who. I'll see you at dinner... That's if I don't decide to join Virgil in exile!"

They watched him depart, his back ramrod straight in anger.

"I think we've just been told off," Scott said quietly.

"The sad thing is, he's right," Jeff noted. "We have made a 'hash' of it. The question is; how do we remedy the situation?"

"Well, I don't even know what I'm supposed to have done wrong," Gordon said. "Apart from what I said yesterday, and I've apologised for that. I don't know what else I could do." He looked at Scott.

So did his father.

"You think I should go and talk to him, don't you," Scott said. "But what if something happens again?"

"If something happens we'll deal with it, just as we have every other time," Jeff told him. "Go on, Son. If you can convince him that you want to be friends, the rest of us have a chance."

"You make me sound like a mass murderer," Scott said as he heaved himself off his deckchair.

"No, you sound like someone who cares enough about his brother that you're willing for forgo your own happiness," his father told him.

Scott stared at him for a moment, before he picked up his glass and headed up the stairs.

After a detour to the kitchen he found himself outside Virgil's bedroom.

While alone on Thunderbird Five John saw little reason in following accepted conventions and closing the doors to private quarters. It was a habit he had a tendency to retain when he returned to Earth, until his family's complaints would eventually remind him that other people didn't think that way.

This was the reason why Virgil's door was wide open.

Scott shook his head disapprovingly and walked into the bedroom. On the table lay the sketchpad and pencils. Scott saw that the last drawing was from the viewpoint of the lookout. He picked up the pad and looked at earlier drawings. Most of them displayed differing views of that same vista. One of Tin-Tin had been ripped from the pad and lay crumpled in the rubbish.

Scott dropped the pad back onto the table and walked silently through to the studio.

Virgil was no longer tinkering with the Traceset. Instead he was seated at his keyboard, his back to the studio door. He was concentrating on the piece he was playing and didn't see Scott standing there.

Scott listened as the music flowed from his brother's fingertips. While not up to his old standard, Scott had to admit that Virgil had a talent that transcended anything that he'd been taught. He was making up the piece as he went along and Scott was spellbound by the beauty, and incredible sadness, in the sounds that flowed forth.

He listened quietly.

Every now and then he caught a refrain that was clearly a part of another composition. He didn't know what music Virgil had heard since he'd got amnesia, but he knew his brother couldn't have heard all of those that were emerging out of this piece.

Somewhere, buried deep, the memories still remained.

Scott cast his mind back to before Virgil become an amnesiac. He would play sad pieces like this if the rescue hadn't gone well... if people had died. It was an outlet, a way of expressing his emotions. If the rescue had been close, stressful, but ultimately successful, his music would be bright and vibrant... an expression of the joy and relief that he felt.

The music he was playing now was the type of music that Virgil should have been playing after his last rescue. They'd saved many, but lost a few. Virgil would have felt their loss deeply.

They all should have.

For some reason an image of a little girl sprang to Scott's mind. A little girl cradled in her distraught mother's arms. A little girl as limp and lifeless as a rag doll. A little girl called Maria.

Scott's own tragedy had overshadowed hers. He hadn't even thought about her again... until today.

As if awakening from a dream he suddenly realised that he was back in the gym. His body had automatically taken him there as his mind had dwelt on other, darker issues.

Scott was suddenly angry with himself. He WAS running away. He'd told Gordon yesterday that he never did and never would do that, and yet here he was running away from Virgil. Virgil would never have deserted him, but Scott was doing just that to Virgil.

He was too scared to face his brother.

Faced with this inescapable fact Scott was filled with self-loathing.

He turned on his heel and marched back to Virgil's room, through the open door and into the studio.

The music had been silenced... the room empty.

The sketchpad and pencils had gone.

Scott stood alone for a moment trying to decide what he should do next. He knew he should talk to Virgil. He knew he HAD to talk to Virgil.

But how could he if he didn't know where his brother was?

Something deep down inside him gnawed at him, and told him that Virgil would be easy enough to find, but Scott told himself that he couldn't do anything without knowing his exact whereabouts.

Scott went back to the gym...

Sixteen  

4.45am. Early for most people. For Scott it was time to get up and starting planning the day's activities. His morning ritual always began with a trip down to the kitchen for a mug of hot coffee.

He'd no sooner finished pouring it out when he heard a sound behind him. He turned and found a dishevelled looking Gordon standing there. "What are you doing up?"

"Is that coffee?" Gordon asked blearily. "Gimmee a cup."

"You look like you should be in bed asleep, not trying to wake up," Scott noted as he handed out his own mug before proceeding to fill another.

"Sleep? What's that?"

"Why? What happened?" Scott asked in concern as he headed over to his seat at the dining table.

Gordon slurped noisily at his coffee before following his brother's lead, and sat down opposite. "Just the same as every other night. Except that this time it was John who woke me. Not that I was asleep." He sipped his coffee again.

"Couldn't John handle it?" Scott asked.

"He tried. He told me they had quite an amiable evening..."

"I know. I heard them laughing."

"But when the nightmare kicked in, John was stuck. Nothing he tried worked. When Virgil started trying to fend him off, like he did with Dad that first night, that's when he got me."

"And you spent the rest of the night in Virgil's room?" Scott guessed.

"Yep. Poor John felt terrible. He felt as if he were deserting Virgil. But there was no point in the two of us having a sleepless night. I told him to go back to his room and I slept in the cot... Well I tried too... Every night it's the same. I can't sleep because I'm expecting him to wake me. And then when he wakes up it takes me at least an hour to calm him down enough so I'm able to go back to bed! And then I can't get back to sleep." He sighed. "I'm telling ya, Scott. This is starting to get to me. I want to help him, but it's getting to the stage where I'm that tired I'm not able to function properly. If International Rescue is called out today, I'll be useless. You may as well stick a wetsuit on Grandma and send her in my place!"

"Go back to bed, Gordon," Scott suggested.

"Is that what I'm meant to do? Sleep during the day so I can baby-sit Virgil at night!" Gordon grimaced. "I didn't mean it like that. I told you I'm tired."

Scott looked at him sympathetically.

Gordon placed his cup down on the table. "Enough about me and my problems. So... what's the programme for today?"

Scott looked at his watch. "First thing I'll do is hit the gym..."

"Second thing, hit the gym. Third thing, hit the gym. C'mon, Scott. You can have a break from that place for one day. You're getting more muscles than the Incredible Hulk."

Scott grinned at him over his coffee. "If I turn green overnight I'll know who to blame, and I'll be after you, Gordo'."

Gordon gazing into mid air reflectively. "It'd be easy enough to do, after all I've got the sleeping habits of a vampire..."

"And if I woke and caught you?"

"You'd never be able to catch me. Not with that muscle bulk you're carrying around... Relax, Scott. Give him a chance to get to know you."

Scott grunted into his coffee.

"Can I tell you something?"

"You know what happened last time you said that, Gordon."

Gordon waved his concerns away. "They're all in bed, asleep, the lucky things. No one's listening."

"You should be in bed too. Go get some sleep and if you still want to tell me when you wake up I'll listen."

"I can't sleep. I keep thinking about yesterday." Gordon rubbed his eyes. "Sorry about that," Scott apologised. "I should've been more careful with the radio." "It wasn't your fault. It was a prime example of what I was talking about, how Virgil's amnesia is affecting all of us." "Yeah," Scott agreed. Gordon managed a wry grin. "However, I do wish you'd found a less public way of proving my point. Your one mistake of the year and it has to involve me and a radio set!" "Do you really think that's my only mistake this year?" Scott asked quietly. "It's the only one you'll admit to." Scott face was creased in thought. "I don't know... Maybe you're right, Gordon. Maybe if I'd helped more you wouldn't have got to the stage where you felt you needed to think those things. Maybe Virgil wouldn't be thinking that none of us like him." "Does that mean you'll help more now?" Gordon asked eagerly. "I don't know..." Scott repeated as he traced a pattern in the tablecloth. "Do you think he'll let me?" "You won't know unless you try. You've got a better chance of getting somewhere with Virgil than anyone else has. You know what makes him tick. You know what buttons to push. You KNOW him." "You make him sound like Braman." "I like it," Gordon grinned. "What Brains is to Braman, you are to Virgil." Scott stared at Gordon as he tried to reconcile this analogy. "What am I? Doctor Frankenstein? Virgil is not Braman." "They're not dissimilar." "You are tired if you think that," Scott told him. "There's no comparison!" "They've both saved your life!" Gordon reminded him. "Granted. And now Braman's been superseded. Brains has moved on to bigger and better things and Braman is locked away in a back room of the complex somewhere." "Forget Braman," Gordon advised. "Now are you going to help Virgil?" "Where would I start? He barely knows me." "And we both know whose fault that is." "Okay," Scott held up his hand resignedly. "I'll try. That's if he's forgiven me too." "If he can forgive me, he can forgive you. You were only listening." "I guess." "It's not Virgil I've got to worry about," Gordon admitted. "Tin-Tin's really mad with me this time. She asked me what Alan had done. I couldn't tell her of course, and that on top of my indiscriminate thought processes of yesterday means she's not talking to me at the moment." Scott chuckled. "Of course she's not talking to you, she's asleep. She'll wake up in a couple of hours time and have forgotten all about it." "I'm not sure, Scott. She's seriously mad. As in Dad and Grandma both furious at the same time, mad. She was angry after the fire, and now... She gave me a look yesterday that I can only interpret as; 'It's not Virgil you should be wishing were dead'. She's madder than when I threw all her clothes into the swimming pool." "Did you blame her for being angry with you then? Her things were ruined!" "That wasn't my fault! I'd put them all into containers to keep them dry. If International Rescue hadn't been called out and you hadn't launched Thunderbird One..." "Don't blame me, Gordon. I didn't know about your game. Anyway, you made it up to her by taking her shopping." "Boy, was that a fun day," Gordon said dryly. "Have you ever been shopping with a girl? They can't just see something and take it. They have to try it on, complain about the fit, or the colour, or how it makes them look too fat, or too skinny..." "You didn't have to go with her." "It was my money she was spending and I wanted to keep some control over it. And remember, part of the deal was that I had to act as her friendly packhorse. I asked her 'Why didn't you buy these things off the 'net and have them delivered? It'd be much easier'." "What did she say to that?" Scott asked. "Nothing. Just gave me a look that said 'You men have no idea'. I'll tell ya, Scott. That girl can pack more meaning into a single look than Brains can into his entire computer database." Scott chuckled. "Did Dad have a talk with you about what happened in the Round House?" Gordon asked, yawning as he changed the subject. Scott grimaced. "If you can call it a talk. He tore that many strips off me that I'm lucky I've got any skin left." "You were lucky. I got the quiet treatment." Gordon informed him. "Ouch," Scott visibly cringed. "Yeah. It wasn't pleasant," Gordon's manner was more subdued. "Amazing isn't it," Scott said reflectively. "Here we both are, both old enough to have children of our own, and yet that man can reduce us both to jelly." "Tell me about it. I'm still quivering." Gordon had some more coffee. "Stop drinking that and go to bed, Gordon. I'll make sure you're not disturbed. We can talk later."

"I'm thinking of quitting," Gordon announced suddenly.

Scott spluttered into his coffee. "What?"

"I'm thinking of quitting," Gordon repeated.

Gordon clearly wanted to talk rather than sleep, and now Scott was alarmed enough to let him. "Quitting? Quitting what?"

"Tracy Island... International Rescue ... I'm tired, Scott."

"I know that, but quitting? That's a bit drastic isn't it?"

"I've already had one major health scare in my life. I don't want another. I'm going to burn out if I don't get away. I need to get away from Virgil."

"What would you do?"

"I could become a WASP again."

"Would they let you? After what you did to that Commander..."

"He deserved it! The stuck up, officious, moron. And besides my Commander thought it was funny."

"I'll bet," Scott said dryly.

"He did!" Gordon protested. "He was trying not to laugh as he was telling me off. He said he was sorry that I was leaving."

"Do you really want to become a WASP again?" Scott asked.

"Dunno," Gordon shrugged. "Would you ever consider joining the Air Force again?"

"Me? I've never thought about it... The camaraderie was great. So were the constant challenges... and being able to fly so many different types of planes..."

"And the girls."

"Oh, yes," Scott laughed, "that was definitely one advantage the Air Force had over International Rescue." He stopped in thought, a smile playing about his lips; then became serious again. "But, getting back to the 'important' things, no plane the Air Force has can compare with the speed and manoeuvrability... or sheer fun... of Thunderbird One. Even Thunderbird Two's more enjoyable to fly than Air Force jets. There's also the fact that further up the ranks I'd go the less flying I'd get to do."

"You'd get more command," Gordon noted.

"Yeah. But in International Rescue I get to fly an amazing plane, and I can boss you guys around as much as I like. And there's another thing that never sat quite right with me about the Air Force. For all it's good points, and the skills I learnt, and friends I made, I could never forget that we were being trained to kill... and that never sat well with me. I tried to ignore it, but it was always there, the knowledge that someday I might actually have to take a life."

"Oh," Gordon said quietly.

"You can't tell me that you were happy with that aspect of your training either."

"No," Gordon said quietly. "But I'm sick of this."

"You're tired that's all," Scott reminded him.

"That's me. I'm sick and tired. I'm sick of being tired all the time. I'm sick and tired of doing the supportive brother act. I'm sick and tired of having Virgil follow me about like a shadow. Do you know what I'd really like to do sometimes?"

"What?"

"Tell him to get lost. To leave me alone! To stop bugging me! To go annoy someone else!"

Scott looked at his brother.

"I'd love to utilise his amnesia and play a practical joke on him. I've even got a beauty worked out..."

"Gordon..." Scott said warningly.

"Or I could take him to the far side of the island and leave him there. By the time he'd found his way back I could have spent a relaxing afternoon doing what I want to do."

"Gordon..." The tone was threatening.

"I know..." Gordon was almost whining. "I can't do that. It 'wouldn't be fair'. But is it fair what we have to go through?"

"Hang in there..."

"Hang in there? Is that the best advice anyone has for me? You realise he's useless to the organisation too."

"He'll learn. Give him time."

"How much time have we got? With only four operatives we haven't got the numbers to operate effectively. He's a liability and he's making me a liability." Gordon was starting to get really uptight.

"Gordon..."

"How much longer do we have to wait before Dad decides to do something about him?"

"It won't be much longer." Scott tried to be reassuring.

"When? You realise we're going to have to start thinking about getting outside help. We should get someone else, someone who can do what we want!"

"Gordon, you know why we can't."

"Because we'd break our cover. But, Scott, we're getting nowhere with him. Sooner or later we're going to have to make the decision to do something. Something drastic. And in the meantime I've got to pretend that I don't mind being woken at all hours of the night. We've all got to continue pretending to play happy families."

"It's for the best."

"We're all living a lie," Gordon said bitterly. "You can't tell me that we're not. I hate this..."

"Gordon..." Scott began again and then stopped abruptly when he saw his brother's face slacken and turn ashen. He turned...

Something moved in the shadows. Virgil was standing there, fully clothed. "A lie?" he asked. "Pretending?"

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," Virgil took a step backwards. "He..." Virgil indicated Gordon, "just said you're living a lie. What lie? I want to know the truth! Who are you?"

"We're your brothers, Virgil," Scott insisted. "Everything we've told you is true..."

"No! I don't believe you. Either of you!"

"Virgil," Gordon exclaimed. "I haven't lied to you once!"

"You haven't lied to me? I don't believe that. If you can lie about me, you wouldn't think anything of lying to me."

"I lied ABOUT you? When?"

"Yesterday!"

"What?" Gordon frowned. Stress and exhaustion were taking their toll. He was beginning to see double. He shook his head trying to clear his vision and rubbed his eyes. "I don't understand."

"No? Well I do now. I see now that I'm just a pawn in your game. I don't know what you want with me, but I do know that I don't want to be part of it. I don't want to stay here. I want to leave! I want to leave NOW!" Virgil's voice was rising.

"Virgil...!" Gordon protested weakly.

"Please be quiet, Virgil," Scott hissed. "You'll wake everyone."

"They don't care about me so why should I worry about them?" Virgil asked loudly. "If you're not prepared to tell me the truth I'll have to leave here and find it myself."

"Virgil," Scott tried to keep the situation under control. "Be reasonable. How could you leave? This is an island."

"I don't know but I'll find a way."

"Please, sit down and we'll discuss this rationally," Scott begged. "I wanted to talk to you yesterday, but... oh, heck. I'll admit it! I chickened out. Let's talk now. Please..."

"No. I'm past talking. You've all been talking to me for this last month. Telling me all sorts of lies..."

"We haven' lied to you," Gordon slurred.

"More lies!" Virgil snapped.

"Guys, quieten down," Scott tried again. "We'll wake everyone up if we carry on like this."

Virgil glared at him. "Are you afraid that they'll find out that you've let the cat out of the bag?"

"Nothin's been let out of the bag, 'cause there's nothin' to be let out." Gordon's tired brain was struggling with the conversation.

"We don't want to worry anyone," Scott insisted. "Come and sit down and we'll talk about it." He took a step towards the coffee machine to get Virgil a cup.

"No! Keep away from me!"

"But I was only..."

"For Pete's sake!" Gordon had reached the end of his endurance. "Grab him and shake him out of it, Scott! Knock some sense into him!"

"Gordon!" Scott admonished, but it was too late. Frightened by the perceived threats of physical violence, Virgil had fled. "Virgil!" Scott yelled, forgetting his own pleas for quiet. "He didn't mean it! Come back!" He took off after his brother.

Gordon attempted to follow. He had made it as far as the hall when he stopped, the walls appearing to spin about him. "What have I done?" he moaned as his legs gave out on him and he slid down the doorjamb to the floor. "I've ruined everything..."

Two fuzzy shapes swam into view.

"What's going on?" Jeff growled.

Gordon blinked at the fuzzy shape that was his dad. "It's my fault. Virgil's run away..."

"He's what?" John asked.

"He heard us talkin'. I said... I dunno... Can't 'member."

"John! Get your brother into bed," Jeff commanded.

"Come on, Gordon," John said gently. "On your feet."

"Sorry, John," Gordon moaned again. "I've ruin' everythin'."

"No you haven't. It only seems like that because you're tired. Now come on." John hefted his brother into a standing position.

Gordon leant on John and allowed himself to be led down the hallway. "Tin-Tin's gonna hate me," he moaned. "Virgil already does."

"No they don't," John soothed.

When they drew level with Jeff Tracy he stopped them. "I'm sorry, Gordon. I should have done something before it got this far."

Gordon looked at his father blankly before John dragged him away.

Scott was fit, and he knew Tracy Island intimately. They were two advantages that he had over Virgil.

Virgil's advantage was that he was terrified of the fate that might befall him if he allowed himself to fall into the clutches of those people who called themselves his family. Fear and adrenaline gave him a speed that he didn't know he possessed.

They tore along a dirt track in the early morning darkness, neither gaining an advantage over the other. Scott occasionally caught glimpses of his brothers fleeing form. At these times he'd call out. "Virgil! I don't want to hurt you!"

Virgil ignored him. How could he believe him after what he'd heard?

On they ran.

Scott came to a fork in the track. He stopped, unsure which way to go. Broken branches pointed left, but his gut instinct told him to head to the right.

A welcome voice came out of his watch. "Go right, Scott."

Scott didn't acknowledge his father's call, but obeyed the command.

Virgil was congratulating himself on tricking his pursuer by cutting across from one track to the other, when he heard the now familiar footsteps behind him. He took flight again.

Jeff ignored the fact that his dressing gown was still behind the door to his room, and that his pyjama top hung open. Satellites tracked his sons' watches and traced their movements on a computerised map of Tracy Island.

His full concentration was on this computer screen and the way the yellow dot was drawing closer and closer to the edge of the island...

The land here was exposed to the oceanic storms. Trees and bushes were stunted and scrubby, leaning away from the prevailing wind. The track was overgrown and in places nearly impassable. Virgil didn't stop though, pushing through branches that tore at his clothing and scratched at his skin.

Scott's heart was in his mouth. He knew where they were. He knew that dangerous bluffs were waiting to catch the unwary. He also knew that Virgil hadn't been to this part of the island since his accident, and in the dark... "Virgil! Stop!" he yelled again through gasping breaths. A branch ripped at his face but he ignored the stinging trail it left. He pushed himself harder, willing Virgil to stop before he reached the hidden cliffs.

Scott turned the corner and found himself at the end of the path. It was a clearing not much bigger than his bedroom, bordered to the left by vertical cliffs rising upwards, and in front and to the right by a sheer drop falling downwards.

There was no sign of Virgil.

Dread filled Scott's system. Had his brother gone crashing down into the sea below? He took a breath to steady his nerves and, with real trepidation, walked to the edge of the cliff...

"There you are," John aided Gordon to the side of his bed.

"I can't go to sleep now," Gordon babbled. "I need to apologise to Virgil. Need to set things straight. I can't sleep knowing that he hates me. Tin-Tin will really hate me now. She'll want to kill me. The swimming pool will seem like a harmless tiff. I should apologise!" He tried to stand.

John gave him a gentle push and he sat down again. "You can apologise later, when you're both feeling better." John removed his brother's slippers. "Now lie down and sleep."

"But I won't be able to sleep. Not now. He doesn't believe us, John."

"Doesn't believe what?"

Gordon looked at his brother and John could clearly see the exhaustion in his face. Gordon looked to be about ninety years old. "He doesn't believe that we're his family. He doesn't believe that we're his brothers."

John gave what he hoped was a reassuring chuckle. "You definitely need to catch up on your sleep, Gordon. That just doesn't make sense."

"It's true. Ask any of them. Ask Dad. Ask Tin-Tin. Ask Grandma. Ask Kyrano. Ask Al..."

"Okay, Gordon, I've got the picture. Now lie down."

"But I have to apologise," Gordon protested as John grabbed him by the shoulders and eased him into the bed.

"Okay. You'll be able to apologise later... Where's your pillow?"

"In Virgil's room."

"I'll go get it. You lie there and try to sleep."

"I won't be able to, John," Gordon attempted to sit up again. "All I can think about is what I've said. You heard what I said didn't you. I said I wished Virgil had died. How could I?"

"I heard, Gordon. But you don't feel like that now do you?"

"No... No, of course not. I love him. He's my brother. I should tell him..." Gordon swung his legs out of the bed.

John grabbed them before they could touch the floor and swung them back, pulling the bedclothes up hurriedly. "Now lie there quietly and try to sleep while I go get your pillow."

"I won't be able to sleep," Gordon insisted as John walked out the door.

When John returned to the room carrying the pillow, Gordon was dead to the world. John smiled to himself as he gently placed the pillow under his brother's head. Now that Gordon was relaxed the years he'd aged had dropped away. His face held the peaceful countenance of a sleeping child.

Gordon didn't stir as John pulled the bedclothes up and tucked them around his shoulders. Then the older Tracy checked that the blinds were tightly drawn and the alarm was turned off. He stopped to check on the sleeping form one more time before leaving the room.

"Pleasant dreams, Gordon."

"I'm dreaming," Scott tried to tell himself. "Only it's a nightmare!" He looked down. All he could see in the dim light of the approaching sun was the fluorescence of the white spray as the Pacific Ocean raged against the rocks.

Virgil wouldn't have stood a chance.

All Scott could think of was how was he going to tell his family that he'd failed. That his brother had died running in fear from him. That Virgil died not knowing that his family loved him and cared for him. That Virgil had died believing that Scott wanted to cause him harm.

Scott felt sick.

What would life be like without Virgil's music, without his voice, without his face... without him?

They had to organise a search now if there were to be any chance of finding Virgil's body. They'd have to get Thunderbird Four out straight away. Scott would have rather told his father the bad news face to face, but time was of the essence. The family would have to learn what had happened over the radio.

Scott couldn't take the scene before him any longer. He'd have to be strong to face his family; the time for grief was later. He turned away to try to get some control on his emotions, raising his arm to activate his wristwatch telecom.

He stopped.

Curled up in a foetal position in the shadows of the cliff face was Virgil.

Scott was so relieved he could have cried. He stepped forward. "Virgil! You're alright!"

"Keep away." Virgil croaked and tried to cram himself further into a crevasse, his face distorted with fear. A sprinkle of dust fell about him.

"Virgil? It's me, Scott."

"I know what you say your name is. But who are you?"

"I'm your brother..." Scott took another step forward.

"Keep back!" Virgil adjusted his position and took up a large stick to ward off Scott's advances. He looked as if he were ready to flee again. "Don't come any closer!"

"Okay, I won't." Scott halted. "But let's talk, okay?" He took a step back and swallowed. "Look, in case you're thinking of running again let me warn you that this is the end of the line for this path. Keep going in any of those directions," his arms formed an arc of about 190º, "and you'll end up in the ocean. The bluff behind you climbs straight up to the summit of the island. The only way out is back the way we came."

"I don't want to go back. Not there. Not to them. I want to get away from here. Away from all of you!"

"Please, Virgil. Don't say that. We all care for you. You're a member of our family. We want to help you."

"Gordon wants to get rid of me."

"Gordon feels terrible about what he said."

"He wants to lock me in a room and leave me there!"

"Huh?" Scott frowned. "How'd you get that idea?"

"He said that! This morning!"

"When?"

"When he was talking to you."

"No he didn't."

"He said I was like Braman. Who's Braman! Is he like me? Have you wiped his memory too?"

"Braman!"

"Maybe it's not Gordon who wants to lock me away. Maybe it's you!"

"Virgil..." Now Scott understood. "Braman is Brains' robot."

"Robot?"

Scott nodded. "That's right. Brains made him, but he hasn't had time to work on him for the last few months so he's stored him away. That's what Gordon was talking about this morning." He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Robot?" Virgil repeated. "Is that what I am? Is that why I can't remember anything? Was the moment I 'woke up' the moment you switched me on? Am I supposed to be 'programmed' just like that 'Virgil 2' computer on Thunderbird Five!"

"Virgil! Calm down, you're not thinking clearly. You're human! You're as human as I am. See, you're bleeding just like me." Scott displayed his own scratched arms. "You're my brother and at the moment you could say we're blood brothers."

"Are you lying to me again?"

"I've never lied to you."

Virgil looked at him in disbelief.

"Come out from under there and we'll talk about everything," Scott offered.

Virgil shook his head and backed further into his niche. More dirt fell.

Scott looked at the area surrounding his brother. "I don't like the look of that rock face, Virgil. It doesn't look too safe." Automatically he stepped forward...

"Keep back!" Virgil waved his stick wildly. It caught a rock in the cliff, which was dislodged. He continued to brandish his weapon like a sword.

A few pebbles fell, bouncing off his head and shoulders. He ducked and blinked as the dust blinded him temporarily.

"Virgil," Scott said with urgency. "Get out of there!"

"No!"

The cliff above his head collapsed...

Seventeen  

"Here's your robe, Dad."

"Hmm? Oh, thank you, John." Jeff Tracy glanced absently at his son and didn't accept the dressing gown.

John continued to hold it out to him before placing it over the back of a chair. "What's happened?"

"They're both up at the bluff. For a while there I thought Virgil was going to run off the edge."

"He what! What are they doing now?"

"I don't know. I've got their heart rhythms on screen and they're racing about like crazy. Scott's easing off a bit now."

"Using their watches? And I thought I was nosy with our technology," John leant over his father's shoulder so that he could see the screen.

"I don't like doing it, but it's the best gauge we've got of what's going on. I don't want to tell Scott to put his watch onto transmit in case my call spooks Virgil even more..." Jeff glanced at John. "Did Gordon say why he ran?"

John shook his head. "No. He wasn't making much sense. He's exhausted. He was sound asleep before his head touched the pillow."

"Did he say anything?"

"He was going on about having to apologise. Said both Virgil and Tin-Tin would be hating him. He's regretting what he said the other day."

Jeff cast a slightly longer look at John. "But he apologised for that and, from what I understand, Virgil forgave him. There has to be more to it. What else did he say?"

"What he said didn't make sense. He's tired."

This time Jeff turned his full attention to his son. "What did Gordon say, John?"

John felt almost foolish. "That Virgil didn't believe that we're his family." He fully expected his father to dismiss the idea.

Instead Jeff nodded slowly. "I thought as much."

"You thou...? Why?"

"Just little things. The odd comment. Things he's said... or hasn't."

"Huh? Who does he think we are then?"

"I don't know..." Jeff turned his attention back to the computer screen.

They watched the monitor in silence. Then...

"Wow! Did you see the way Scott's heart rate spiked?" John exclaimed.

Jeff didn't answer. His attention was consumed by the readout the computer was receiving from Virgil's watch.

They both jumped when an unexpected alert sounded from Alan's portrait.

Jeff activated the link. "Go ahead, Alan."

"Dad... Good, I'm glad you're there, John."

"Why? What's wrong?" John asked.

"We've got a call out." Alan paused. "There's a car trapped halfway down a cliff..."

"You're kidding!" John exclaimed.

"Two occupants..."

"It's got to be a hoax," John stated. "We rescued two people from their car less than a month ago!"

"What do you think, Alan," his father asked. "Is it a hoax or a coincidence?"

"I'm inclined to agree with John, but I'd like your opinion too."

"Play it, Alan," Jeff commanded.

They listened in silence as a panicked individual pleaded with Alan for International Rescue's assistance. When the recording finished John nodded. "It's a hoax," he stated emphatically.

"I agree," Jeff said. "Tell them we're sorry, but we're unable to help, Alan."

Alan hesitated. "I was pretty certain that it was a hoax when they called, so that's what I did. But then they showed me something that made me wonder..."

Scott didn't have time to think. As the rocks above Virgil's head started descending he darted in and grabbed his brother, pulling him to safety.

Virgil didn't protest as he was dragged out from under the potentially deadly rock fall.

Debris and rocks flew about them, hitting them and coating them in a grimy layer of dust. They ran as far as they dared, stopping at the edge of the bluff, panting slightly from exertion and fear.

Fortunately the rock fall subsided before it reached the two brothers.

They looked at each other. Brown eyes met blue and an unspoken message of thanks passed between them.

Scott realised that he still had a firm grip on Virgil's arms and let go, raising his own hands in a submissive gesture as he took two steps backwards. "I don't want to hurt you, Virgil."

Virgil watched him in surprise.

"Can we talk?" Scott asked.

Whatever reply Virgil had in mind was interrupted when a sound came from Scott's watch.

Scott took another step backwards, coming dangerously close to the edge of the cliff and lowered his arm. "Scott here," he said as the light from his watch cast an eerie glow over his face.

His father sounded apologetic, "We've got a call out. International Rescue needs you."

"What! Not now!" Scott exclaimed in frustration.

"I know, but there's a couple of people trapped in a car halfway down a c..." A small rock fall drowned out the remainder of Jeff's sentence.

But Scott had heard enough. "C'mon!" he protested. "It's got to be a hoax. That last rescue was widely publicised. It's a copycat..."

"That's what we all thought," Jeff interrupted. "I'm still not convinced, but they had live video of the car. That's why I want you out there as soon as possible to ascertain the legitimacy of their call. John, Brains and Tin-Tin have already left in Thunderbird Two in case it is genuine." As if to punctuate his statement the roar of Thunderbird Two reached them and the lights and silhouette of the mighty plane could be seen zooming out over the dark ocean. "Please, Son. You could be there and back before Thunderbird Two is halfway there. I don't want Brains and Tin-Tin to be involved unnecessarily."

"Okay," Scott acquiesced with evident reluctance. "I'm heading back now." He lowered his arm and looked at Virgil. "I'm sorry. I really want us to talk. Maybe when I get back from the rescue?"

Virgil nodded slowly.

"Um... The only way back is that way," Scott pointed past Virgil. "Would you mind if I slipped past?"

Virgil stood aside, clambering onto some of the rock fall.

"Thanks." Scott scooted between his brother and the edge of the bluff. "Be careful, okay? I'll see you back at the house." He started pushing hurriedly through the scrub.

Virgil watched him go, thinking over the events of the last few minutes. What had happened here? Scott had had ample opportunity to capture him, he'd even had a good grip on him, and yet he'd chosen to let him go free.

'Maybe I have been wrong,' Virgil thought. 'Maybe they are my family... Maybe they do save lives... Scott saved mine.' He started making his slow way back towards the house following the track he'd forged only minutes earlier. He was halfway there when he heard another roar. He stopped and gave a wave as Thunderbird One shot upwards into the still light of dawn and then rotated till it was flying at speed away from the island...

The island!

"Of course!" Virgil exclaimed out loud. "You're a fool, Virgil. He knows you can't escape. This is an island! It's a trick to lull you into a false sense of security!"

Jeff watched as his son's heart rate steadily increased again. "What's going on, Virgil?" he asked quietly.

Instead of making his way back to the villa Virgil carefully skirted the complex until he was close to the aircraft hangar. Once he was close enough he crouched down behind a rock and surveyed the area. All was still in the early morning calm and he dashed across the exposed runway and ducked through the hangar door.

Once inside he paused to catch his breath and to get his bearings. If he remembered correctly there was a hidden door that led into Thunderbird Two's hangar. He dismissed that thought. Thunderbird Two wasn't here, so the hangar held no attraction to him.

Virgil turned his attention to one of the family jets sitting innocently, waiting to be called into service. It was unlocked and he climbed inside, making his way to the pilot's seat, into which he slid awkwardly. He looked at the controls. Those people had told him that he was a pilot, and yet he had no idea what any of these instruments meant and, if he were honest with himself, he wouldn't be able work it out because he couldn't read them anyway.

A worried man watched him unseen. 'You wouldn't try, would you, Virgil?'

Placing his hands on the steering yoke, Virgil gave it a tentative turn, hoping that some of the memories associated with the operation of this machine would return.

He was disappointed when they didn't.

Even attempting to fly a plane was clearly out of the question. If he was lucky enough to get it off the ground without being killed, or worse, caught, the thought of trying to land again made his blood run cold. Chances were he'd end up crashing it into the Pacific Ocean.

The Pacific Ocean?

Now there was a possibility! Gordon had shown him the 'family' yacht and had even given him a brief lesson on how to operate it. Surely he could use it well enough to get away from this place. At least he wouldn't crash and burn.

Jeff breathed a sigh of relief when the yellow dot departed the hangars. "Now where are you going?"

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One."

"Thunderbird One. What's up, John?"

"I've got you on my radar."

"I can see you too..." The blip that was Thunderbird Two disappeared off the screen. "Well I could."

John chuckled. "You speed demon."

Scott had too many worries on his mind to laugh. As he left Thunderbird Two in his wake his thoughts turned to home. "How's Gordon?"

"Asleep. He's burned himself out."

"I'm not surprised. I could see it coming this morning."

"So what happened?"

Scott hesitated.

"Don't worry, Scott. It's only you and me in on this conversation. And the Brat in the Sky. I'm not talking to him, but even he deserves to know what's going on."

Alan made no comment about his new nickname, but both Scott and John were confident that he was listening.

Scott thought for a moment. "Where are Brains and Tin-Tin?"

"Reacquainting themselves with the equipment. Brains is going down... That's if he has to."

"You're sure it's a hoax?"

"90 percent sure. If it wasn't for the video I'd be 100 percent convinced."

"Videos can be altered."

"Don't I know it. No, somehow the video seemed genuine. It's just the caller who's fake. I'd lay odds on that you'll have us turning back before we get there."

"And if it is a fake I'll have great pleasure in giving that caller a piece of my mind! Where do people get off calling emergency organisations just because the feel like it? Don't they realise someone in genuine need could get seriously hurt or killed? I'd like to take him and...!"

"Whoa, Scott! Calm down. Think about International Rescue's good name. We don't want it in the media that one of our members took a swing at someone," John said anxiously. "It's serious, but it's not THAT serious."

"Don't you believe it! I think I'd actually managed to at least get Virgil to listen to me and then this happens!"

"What happened this morning?" John asked quietly.

Scott brought his feelings of anger back under control. "Gordon was talking to me. We thought we were alone. He was saying things that... that I'm pretty sure he didn't mean, only he was that tired he wasn't really aware that he was saying them." He gave John a rundown of the morning's conversation.

"Gordon said that!"

"Yep. And Virgil heard him. He's taken it as proof positive that we're some kind of... I don't know... some kind of mafia wanting to use him for our nefarious schemes or something."

"That'd be funny if he wasn't serious."

"Well he is serious. When Gordon told me to 'knock some sense into him', Virgil took it literally."

"Gordon didn't mean it literally did he?"

"No, of course not. Even an exhausted Gordon stops short at physical violence."

"So Virgil ran away?"

"Yep. Up to the bluffs. It was that dark we could hardly see where we were going. I'm amazed that he managed to keep to the path and to push through all that scrub. It's almost impenetrable."

"I can see that. That scratch on your cheek has started bleeding."

Scott pressed the back of his hand against his face and looked at it. It was stained with a streak of blood. He ran the hand through his hair and felt the grit from the dust of the rock fall. "I should have got cleaned up before I left."

"You didn't have time. And you can tell our friends at the 'danger zone' that you were dragged away from a genuine emergency... which is true."

Scott continued on with his tale. "I thought he'd gone over the cliff, John. I reached the end of the track and there was no sign of him. It was so dark that there was no way that he could have seen the danger. All I could think was how was I going to tell everyone... I was going to have to say that I'd failed! That I'd let Virgil die!" His voice cracked, betraying some of the anguish that he'd experienced in that short moment.

John gave Scott a moment to recover a sense of equilibrium, guessing that this was part of the reason why he was so uptight now. "So where was he?"

"Curled up in a hollow in the cliff."

"Safe?"

"Yeah. Physically he was fine, though he's got as many scratches as I do. Emotionally he was a wreck. He was convinced that we were going to lock him away in a room somewhere like Braman."

"Like Braman?"

"I explained that Braman was a robot and he calmed down slightly, until I tried to get closer..."

"And..."

"And... he started threatening me with a big stick. He would have hit me if I'd got close enough. He was terrified that I was going to hurt him. " Scott's voice rose an octave. "I wouldn't, John! I'd never hurt any of you guys!"

"I know, Scott," John said gently. "Virgil knows too. He's just forgotten at the moment."

Scott took a deep breath "He's waving this stick around, knocking away rocks and things. I could see the whole cliff face was going to collapse, so I grabbed him and pulled him away... just in time too."

"Ah. So that explains the spike," John reflected.

"Spike?"

"We, Dad and I, were watching your movements on the computer. Dad had your heart rhythms on screen to try to get some idea of how things were going. I saw your heart rate do a big jump and then the Brat called in with this rescue."

"John!" Alan complained.

They ignored him.

Scott continued on. "It was then that he started to calm down. I think he realised that I didn't want to hurt him. I thought that I was going to be able to have a sensible conversation with him, and then..." he petered out miserably.

"And then Dad called you?" John prompted.

"Yeah." Scott lapsed into a moody silence.

"I wouldn't worry, Scott," John said, trying to reassure his brother. "This is Virgil we're talking about. He may not know who you are... or he is, but somehow, deep down, I'm sure that bond between the pair of you still exists. It's too strong for a little thing like amnesia to break."

"I wish," Scott said quietly.

"Did you know that, when we were kids, there were times when I was jealous of the pair of you?"

"John?" Scott hadn't been expecting this.

"I know that I tended to choose my own pastimes, that I was happier with my nose in a book than getting dirty in the backyard. But there were times when I was jealous about the way you and Virg were..."

"Virgil," Scott corrected automatically.

"...Virgil were happiest playing together. You always had a friend to share things with and so did he. There were times when I felt I was missing out on a friendship like that."

"John... I didn't realise..." Scott was starting to do what he did best, care for his brothers at the expense of his own emotions.

This was what John hoped would happen. "No. Well it wasn't all the time, but why do you think I was always willing to let you two tie me to those trees, while you pranced around as if you'd captured a dangerous criminal? They're not the most comfortable backrests you know."

"I don't understand," Scott frowned, his face illuminated by the lights from Thunderbird One's control panel as the rocket plane soared through the night sky outside.

"Because it gave me a chance to do what I enjoyed, reading, and I was still able to be part of your games. I felt like, even though it was on the periphery, I was part of your team."

"I'm sorry, John. I... we didn't know."

"Don't be sorry. It was the way I was, and the way you two were... I would like to know something though..."

"Yeah?" Scott asked with curiosity.

"Whose bright idea was it to sit me on the ants nest, Butch?"

Scott barked out a laugh. "If I said Virgil would you believe me?"

"Only because he can't remember to tell me the truth."

"It looked a nice, soft, round place to sit. We were thinking of you, you know."

"Yeah, sure..." John drawled. "You didn't think of me when they started biting and, instead of untying me, you two started laughing."

"Sorry, John," Scott smiled.

"And by the time you did condescend to untie me, they'd crawled into my shorts!"

"Boy, did you move! Straight into the swimming pool. You nearly drowned Gordon."

"I wouldn't mind betting I did a lap of that pool quicker than Gordon ever did... before or since."

Scott laughed again. "And then you took your shorts off..."

"...And all these dead ants started floating up around me."

"And Alan and Tin-Tin walked into the yard!"

John reddened, a scarlet light on Thunderbird Two's console accentuating his colouration. "I was so embarrassed. Even if it was only Tin-Tin there were still some things I wasn't keen on letting her see."

"I remember you were trying to hide against the side of the pool and get your shorts on at the same time."

"Yeah, and I could see Gordon's brain ticking over, trying to find some way of embarrassing me further."

"So could we. That's why we chased her. It was okay for us two to tease you, but you were off limits to anyone else. Especially when it was our fault."

"That always amazed me. Neither of you said anything to each other, but you both yelled 'Indian' at once and took off together after Tin-Tin. Next thing I know Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid are running after this little girl who's protesting 'I'm not Indian. I'm Malaysian!'."

Scott smiled at the memory. "It wasn't politically correct, but it achieved what we wanted, which was to give you some space to get decent."

"Yeah, but your synchronisation was perfect... I don't know how you do it."

"Well, you know what they say about great minds thinking alike..."

"Yeah, and fools seldom differ."

Scott chuckled, "and then that evening Father asked why you couldn't sit still... Remember what he said?"

"He asked if I had ants in my pants, and then wondered why you all cracked up." John looked at the chronometer. "You must be getting close."

"Coming up to the danger zone now." Scott zoomed in on a scene with his video monitor.

"How's it look?"

"No one's panicking. No one's rushing about and..."

"Yes?"

"There's a lot of video cameras on site."

"What! Are they filming you?"

"No. The cameras are pointing at the ground, and the automatic camera detector's not registering anything."

"So what are they playing at?"

"I'll swing round and check out our 'victims'." Scott lowered Thunderbird One into the canyon and cruised past the car slowly. "I've never known people in danger of imminent death to lean out of a car window and cheerfully wave at me before."

"Want me to turn back?" John asked.

"No. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt until I've actually spoken to someone."

"This is from the man who was ready to slam someone up against a wall and smash his face in."

"Yeah," Scott said wryly. "Thanks, John. Your little chat worked."

"Anytime, Scott. Just so long as it doesn't involve ants."

"Alan! Tell base I'm coming in to land, and I don't think I'll be here long," Scott ordered.

"F-A-B," the 'Brat in the Sky' replied.

"And don't forget to emphasise that you were called away from another emergency," John reminded his brother, omitting to add that Scott had inadvertently rubbed the scratch on his cheek and caused it to bleed again.

Virgil approached the boat shed with less trepidation than he had the hangar. No one could know that he was here, so he felt safe. Confidently he walked up to the door.

"Oh, no you don't," Jeff entered a combination into the computer that locked the door to the boathouse. "Sorry, Virgil. I've never not trusted you like this before."

Virgil tried the door. It wouldn't open. He frowned trying to remember how Gordon had gained access when they'd visited here last. He was sure there had been no locking mechanism involved.

He looked in a window. Nestled safely on her ramp was the family yacht. He could just see the name on her hull and remembered it was called Lucille. It had been named after his mother...

His mother?

Why had he thought that? Why not their mother? Why not the person he'd been told was his mother? Why not the mythical person in the video and photos?

Virgil rubbed his forehead in confusion. For some reason it didn't occur to him to try to break the glass of the window and instead he walked back towards the door. There was a keypad here. Experimentally he punched in a number...

"How'd you remember that?" Jeff exclaimed as he quickly re-entered the combination that slid the bolt home again. "Your memories are still there, Virgil. Why won't you believe us?"

Virgil pushed at the door in frustration. He'd thought he'd heard the lock un-snip, but just as quickly there'd been an accompanying sound that sounded as if it had slipped back into place. He tried another combination on the keypad, but didn't get the same result. He kicked at the door in frustration.

Now what?

He was trapped. Trapped on an island and held captive by this strange family. He could hide somewhere, but there looked to be rain approaching and the idea of holing up in a drafty cave didn't hold any appeal.

Of course if he went back to the house he could possibly sneak in and lock himself in his room. They wouldn't know he was there and at least he'd be comfortable.

It seemed to be the best idea and he started tracking back up the hill.

Once at the villa Virgil cautiously let himself back in via a side entrance. He'd nearly reached his goal when a gentle tread and swish of silk robes told him that someone was coming. He ducked into a nearby cupboard and waited as Kyrano serenely walked past.

He congratulated himself on not being spotted and hunkered down to wait till he was sure that the way was clear.

"Mister Virgil is hiding in the hallway," Kyrano said conversationally as he placed a full pot of coffee and a mug on Jeff's desk.

"I know," Jeff replied. "I've been tracking him since he bolted. I feel more like an Orwellian 'Big Brother' than his father."

Kyrano nodded as if this were a perfectly normal turn of events. "Should I prepare breakfast, Mr Tracy?"

Jeff looked at the clock. "Wait an hour, then start brunch. I think everyone should be close to home by then."

Kyrano nodded his understanding and turned to leave.

"Kyrano," Jeff added. "Make it something special. I've got a feeling they are not going to be happy when they get home."

"Yes, Mr Tracy." Once again Kyrano made to make for the door.

"Hang on, Kyrano!" Jeff commanded.

Kyrano turned back.

"Virgil's on the move... Good, he's gone into his room," Jeff said as he watched the computer. "We'll give him a moment to get settled. I don't want him to know that we know where he is."

"Mr Tracy?"

"He doesn't trust us, Kyrano. He doesn't believe we're his family."

"Ah," said Kyrano.

"You don't sound surprised."

"I am not."

"No," Jeff said reflectively. "Neither was I." He stood. "I think he's on his bed. I'll go get washed and dressed, and then come back here."

"I shall see what we will have for brunch... Do you think Mister Virgil will be joining us?"

Jeff looked at his manservant and friend. "I don't know..."

Virgil sat in his room. He still felt trapped. Trapped by this group of people or trapped in the nightmare that was amnesia, he wasn't sure. But he was definitely trapped.

The funny thing was he wanted to believe that he had a father and four brothers. He wanted to believe that he was a member of an altruistic organisation. He wanted to believe that he was the pilot of an amazing flying machine.

So why couldn't he believe it?

What had Gordon said this morning? 'I'm sick of all this.' '...Break our cover.' '...Doing the supportive brother act.' 'We've all got to continue pretending to play happy families.' 'We're all living a lie.'

Living a lie?

Gordon had lied to him.

He'd trusted Gordon most of all.

Virgil felt betrayed.

He had to get out of here.

He couldn't run away alone, he'd discovered that the hard way. He had to get outside help.

But how?

How could he get help when he couldn't read, couldn't write, couldn't...

Wait a minute. There was one thing that he could remember how to use... well kind of...

The videophone.

Virgil sighed and rested his head against the headboard of the bed. What use was that if he didn't have anyone to ring. If he could read, he could look up a phone number, but his literacy skills weren't good enough yet.

Then he remembered the last number re-dial button.

It was a gamble, but Virgil figured that 'International Rescue' wouldn't use a standard phone for their secretive messages. Odds would be that the 'phone would be used for ordinary, everyday 'phone calls. Calls to people who were not part of their clandestine group.

What would he say? 'Help. I'm held captive by a group of people pretending to be my family and some organisation called International Rescue? I'm stuck on an island in the middle of... the South Pacific Ocean? And, by the way, I don't know who I am because I've got amnesia?'

Virgil shook his head. No. It wouldn't work.

But what other option did he have?

He got off the bed and surreptitiously opened the door to the hallway.

The hall was empty.

Now, where could he find a videophone?

There was one in the lounge, but that was a public area. He could be discovered.

He crept stealthily down the hall to the door to the lounge. To his surprise the room was empty.

Without stopping to consider his actions, he ran quietly across the soft carpet to the desk.

He stared at the 'phone. He still had no idea what he was going to say...

Well he'd just have to wing it.

He reached out a hand to the re-dial button...

Eighteen  

"What are you doing?"

Although unthreatening, Virgil jumped when he heard the unexpected voice behind him. He swung around quickly and tripped over one of the supports of the swivel chair. He fell into the seat.

Jeff Tracy looked at him impassively. "Well?"

"I... uh... I..." Virgil stammered.

Jeff looked from his son to the videophone and Virgil detected a saddening of his features. "You were going to try to 'phone someone weren't you."

Virgil decided that the safest option was to say nothing.

"You thought we'd all be elsewhere?"

Virgil looked at an ink spot on the desk.

"I didn't realise you remembered how to use a 'phone. Who were you going to call?"

Virgil examined the spot thoroughly.

"Were you going to press the re-dial button and take pot luck?"

Virgil looked at the older man sharply. How come he'd been so astute?

"Had you forgotten that the team has gone on a mission? I rarely leave my desk when any of you are on a rescue."

Not for the first time, Virgil mentally cursed his forgetfulness.

He wasn't startled when the eyes in Scott's portrait started flashing.

"Would you mind if I used my seat?" Jeff asked.

Virgil scurried out from behind the desk and then stopped, unsure of what to do next.

Jeff reclaimed his chair. "Go ahead, Scott."

Scott appeared to be relieved to see Virgil in shot, but stayed businesslike. "As we suspected it was a hoax."

"Any idea who the perpetrators were?" Jeff asked.

"Would you believe that it was some film company who thought that a real rescue, by International Rescue, would be good publicity?" Scott said bitterly. "Apparently the climax of the film involves the hero being stuck down the side of a cliff in a car. They'd even gone so far as to position one of their prop cars and a couple of stunt men on a cliff face for us to rescue. They were never in any danger. I reminded them that while we were off on phoney rescues, someone in genuine need could die because we're not there to help."

"What did they say?" Jeff asked.

"They hadn't thought of that," Scott said ironically. "They were most apologetic."

"You're on your way home then?" Jeff said.

"ETA 17.67 minutes." Then Scott lost his official tone. "How are you, Virgil?"

"Okay," Virgil said briefly.

"Brunch'll be ready when you get home," Jeff said.

"Great. I'm starving."

"When are you ever not hungry?" Jeff chuckled. "See you soon, Son."

"F-A-B, Father."

Jeff wrote something on a piece of paper. Then he swivelled around in his chair and examined his other son reflectively. "I think we'd better continue our conversation in my study, Virgil. We won't be disturbed there."

Virgil reflected that so far it had been a pretty one-sided conversation.

"Are you coming?"

For a moment Virgil realised that he didn't have to do as this man asked. He could hold his ground. He was a free individual. Well... as free as he could be in his present situation.

But for some reason following Jeff Tracy into the study seemed to be the right thing to do.

Jeff strode easily into his room, circled his desk and sat down in his chair. "Have a seat," he indicated the variety of seating about the room.

Virgil hesitated.

"Don't worry. They're not electric and none of them are fitted with manacles."

Virgil, reluctantly, chose a soft seat near the door. He waited to see what Jeff Tracy had to say to him.

For Jeff it was a strange sensation looking at this son whom he knew intimately, and yet hardly at all. He was looking at the face of someone he cared for and yet, at the same time, was a complete stranger.

Virgil looked at Jeff and wished he hated him instead of liking him. He didn't want to upset him and yet he didn't trust him.

Silence filled the room as each man thought his own private thoughts.

Jeff looked at his son speculatively and made a decision about how to handle the situation. "I guess you're finding things pretty tough at the moment, Virgil."

Virgil had been expecting some kind of explosion and was surprised by the quiet tone. "Uh... Yes."

"Tough enough that you wanted to try to escape?"

"I guess."

"Did you know who you were going to call?"

Virgil shook his head.

"You were just going to push the re-dial button and try to make the person at the other end understand your situation?"

Virgil nodded.

"And your situation is that you're not 100 convinced that we are who we say we are...? Or that you are who we say you are?"

Virgil nodded again, this time more reluctantly.

Jeff sighed. "I'm trying to think who I last called on that 'phone. I think, fortunately, that it was Penny... Lady Penelope. She wouldn't have posed a threat..." He sat back, trying to remain calm and non-threatening. "I can see you're struggling with living here. Would you be happier somewhere else? Somewhere away from us? I could arrange something?"

Virgil looked at the other man. This wasn't what he expected. "I-I don't know."

"I'm sure Penny would be more than happy to accommodate you. Though I don't know that being confined within the walls of a stately manor would give you any more freedom than being on a tropical island." Jeff looked at Virgil earnestly. "I'd let you go anywhere you wanted to in the world if I could be sure that you wouldn't betray International Rescue. What you obviously don't realise is that what you were going to do could have been disastrous to us all... I don't just mean that International Rescue would have to be shut down, which would result in the loss of innocent lives, but the life of every person on this island could have been put in jeopardy."

"How?" Virgil asked. "Just by one phone call!"

"There are large rewards out there for anyone with information about us. Not everyone feels loyal to International Rescue. Did anyone tell you why we're a secret organisation?"

"Gordon said that it was to stop 'bad-guys' getting hold of the equipment. I'll admit that I've got a better idea now of what equipment he means, but, honestly, is it that big a deal?"

"You haven't seen most of our equipment in action have you? You don't know what The Mole, The Firefly, The Excavator and our other auxiliary craft are capable of. No other organisation in the world has machinery even close to ours."

Virgil was wearing his 'I'm confused' frown.

Jeff continued on. "Think about Thunderbird One. You've seen how fast she can fly. She's equipped with low yield missiles..."

"Why?" Virgil asked.

"Self defence. And they have been used in emergency situations to divert rivers and create dams. Imagine if someone wanted to take over the World Government. Replace our missiles with something with a little more firepower and Thunderbird One could be used to blow up the seat of Government. She'd be in and out of there before any conventional fighter craft could be scrambled to the World President's aid. Then a militia could be flown in onboard Thunderbird Two. And that's only one scenario. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Virgil nodded.

"Do you see why secrecy is absolutely vital?"

Virgil nodded again.

"I won't mention what nearly happened today to your brothers. There's no need for anyone else to know. And I'm going to try to trust you like I used to be able to. But, please, Virgil, don't force me to password protect every 'phone on the island. Do you understand?"

Virgil nodded a third time.

"I wish I could understand fully what you're going through, but I can't really know. It's not like you're blind or deaf and I could wear a blindfold or earplugs. I can't begin to imagine what it's like for you. I thought you were doing so well, accepting it, accepting us... I guess we haven't known the strain you've been under."

"No," Virgil said quietly.

"So tell me."

"Huh?" Virgil looked at the man he'd been told was his father.

"Explain to me what it's like."

"What it's like," Virgil repeated. "Well..."

Jeff waited patiently.

"It's... like... I've suddenly been transported to another planet. One totally different to the one I know. I'm almost inclined to believe Gordon!"

"What did Gordon say?"

"That you were members of an alien race who'd kidnapped me and wiped my memory."

Jeff grinned. "And why had we done that?"

"Something about taking over the world?"

Jeff laughed. "That sounds like Gordon. He watches too many science fiction movies."

"I can't say what having amnesia is like, because I don't know. I don't have anything I can relate it too. And if I do, I can't remember it!"

Jeff nodded sagely and then thought for a moment. "Are you happy here?" he eventually asked.

Virgil shrugged. "Sometimes."

"Would you rather try living somewhere else?"

"Yes..." Virgil thought a moment. "No... I don't know... I don't fully understand what's going on here... but the idea of going somewhere totally new..." He shivered.

"Well, let me know if you change your mind. The only thing holding you prisoner, Virgil, is your amnesia. That and your unwillingness to trust us... I used to be able to trust you, and it hurts that I can't now. If the old you knew what you were going to do you'd be horrified"

Virgil looked at his hands.

There was a knock on the door.

"I won't mention the 'phone call again," Jeff said, and then, before Virgil had a chance to comment, called out, "Come in, Scott."

The door slid open revealing Scott, clean and in his civilian clothes. "I got your note."

Virgil looked accusingly at Jeff.

"I want you both here to explain to me what happened this morning," Jeff explained.

"Is Gordon asleep?" Scott asked as he settled in a chair on the other side of the room from Virgil.

"Last time I looked in he was dead to the world," his father told him. "Now, Virgil, perhaps you'd like to tell me your side of the story."

Virgil decided he should at least try to explain his case. "I heard Gordon get up this morning. I didn't know what the time was so I thought it must be time for me to get up too. I went into the kitchen and Gordon and Scott were talking. When I realised that they were talking about me I waited, and listened."

"What did they say?" Jeff asked

Virgil gave him a rundown of Gordon's statements that morning.

Jeff looked at Scott.

"He's right," Scott confirmed. "Gordon did say that."

"Why?" Jeff frowned.

"He was tired. He was letting off steam. You know how he gets."

Jeff nodded. "I do, and you do, but Virgil doesn't."

"He said you were living a lie," Virgil accused.

Jeff looked back at his son. "What Gordon said about 'living a lie' is perfectly true. I used that phrase myself in a letter to your... in a letter the other day."

Scott stared at his father wondering if he knew what he was doing.

Jeff continued with his explanation. "What I meant, and I'm pretty sure Gordon meant the same thing, is that we're trying to continue to live as if nothing's wrong... As if nothing's wrong with you..."

Virgil gave an unintelligible grunt.

Scott nodded slowly in agreement. "He is right. We are. And as John said, we're making a hash of it."

Virgil looked doubtful.

"I wish I knew what evidence you need so that we can convince you that we haven't lied," Jeff said. "I even asked Brains if he had anything that could give me temporary amnesia so I could find out."

Virgil stared at him. "What!"

"You too?" Scott asked. "I did as well. Shame he didn't have anything... well anything he felt safe using on us."

"Why?" Virgil asked. "Why would you want to put yourself through this... this... torture?"

"I want to know what it's like for you," Scott explained. "If we knew, perhaps we'd be more understanding towards you."

"How stupid can you be? That has got to be one of the most idiotic ideas ever! That anyone would willingly try to get amnesia..." Virgil threw up his hands in exasperation. "You don't want to live through this! I don't want to live through this! I don't want you to live through this! You mean too much to me..." He finished this seemingly contradictory statement, looked at the two surprised faces, frowned in confusion, and looked away.

"I don't fully appreciate what it's like," Scott explained. "I want to understand it better."

"Virgil told me that it's like being taken to another planet," Jeff said.

"Another planet?"

"And we're an alien species who have wiped his memory so we can take over the world."

"Aliens?" Scott said, astounded, and then grinned. "Gordon?" he guessed.

"Gordon," Jeff confirmed.

Scott chuckled. "Typical. Trust him to come up with something like that."

Virgil had been listening to the pair of them in astonishment. Now he was getting angry. "What are you laughing at? Do you really want to know what I feel? To not know your own past? To not remember your own family? Your own life? Do you know that I wake up every morning and have to make a conscious effort to remember? 'Who am I? – Virgil Tracy. Where am I? – At home on Tracy Island. Who else is here? – My family – my brothers – my father – my grandmother – my friends.' I have to tell myself this every day. Do you know that every day I have to have faith that you are who you say you are? But I don't KNOW that you are my family..."

"Virgil," Jeff said soothingly.

By now Virgil was shaking with emotion. "I've seen the family photos and videos, but it would not be difficult for you to make up this history... my history. I've seen that you have the technology to create those photos and videos." He could see frowns on their faces as he leapt to his feet and walked over to the desk where he picked up the family photo that resided there. "I don't know that you've done that. But I don't KNOW that you haven't. Every day I've got to face these doubts and tell myself that they are groundless."

"Virgi..." Scott started, but Virgil continued on as if he hadn't heard him.

"You've told me what International Rescue does, what its goals are, but it's only what you've told me. You go off on a rescue and the only evidence I've got that it was a genuine rescue were your radio reports. How do I know you weren't working off a script?"

"I guarantee that we weren't," Jeff said calmly.

"I've got this nagging sensation that something's wrong and I can't shake it. It's probably only that my head is crazy, but that feeling is there..."

"You're not crazy, Virgil..." Jeff tried to say.

"I can't trust what I've been told to remember. No matter how much I want to, no matter how much faith I want to put into what I've been told. I don't KNOW!" Virgil made a decision. "I didn't know until now! Until this morning! Now I know the truth! You've been lying to me!" He slammed the photo, face down, back onto the desk.

There was the sound of breaking glass.

"We haven't lied to you!" Scott protested. "Gordon didn't mean it the way it sounded!"

"Why didn't you stop him then, if it's not true?" Virgil asked.

"Because it's easier to agree with him than start an argument when he's that tired," Scott told him.

"Even if he might be overheard?"

"It was five o-clock in the morning. You were supposed to be in bed!"

"In bed, ignorant of the truth."

"Virgil! We have told you the truth!" Scott exclaimed.

"You don't want me to know what's really happening, do you! What would I have learnt if Gordon hadn't seen me?"

"Probably nothing. There was nothing to learn. And I would have convinced Gordon to go back to bed."

"We've told you the truth all along, Virgil," Jeff reiterated.

"I don't believe you..." Virgil looked him in the eye. "And I don't believe that you are my father."

"What!" For the first time there was a sign that Jeff was struggling to maintain his composure.

"I don't believe you," Virgil repeated. "I don't believe that you are who you say you are. I don't believe you are what you say you are!"

"But we've told you the truth," Scott protested.

"That you're my family? I don't believe that," Virgil reiterated.

"Why?" Jeff asked.

"Why? You're too perfect. A loving, caring, selfless family... But the cracks are starting to show."

"Cracks?" Jeff repeated.

"Yeah," Virgil said animatedly. "Cracks. I mean, look at you all. Living out here, alone, on an island in the middle of the ocean. And yet you try to tell me you care about people!"

"We can't live anywhere near populated areas," Scott started to say. "We'd..."

"Break your cover. So I keep on hearing," Virgil snapped.

"What other cracks are there?" Jeff asked.

"You're supposed to be this super rich billionaire, living on your 'tropical paradise' with your five sons. And yet you've only got one servant..."

"Kyrano's hardly a servant," Scott interrupted.

"Exactly!"

"I haven't always been rich," Jeff told him. "I brought you boys up to help around the house. You still do. Just because I've money now there's no reason to change the habits of a lifetime. It's helped keep us a close family..."

"So close that you'll send one of your sons into space, alone, for a month at a time!"

"We've explained why!" Jeff said.

"For 'International Rescue'. So that he can listen in on every person in the planet. Is that what International Rescue is? Some kind of spy outfit?"

"No," Scott protested.

"Some kind of illegal operation?"

"No," Scott repeated, struggling to stop himself from yelling.

"Is that the plan? Were John and Alan like me once? Have you brainwashed them into taking on that role? Were you going to brainwash me too?"

"No," Jeff tried to remain calm. Any other emotion wouldn't help at this point.

"Why would we do that?" Scott asked. "What is International Rescue for if it's not to help people in emergencies?"

"You tell me!"

"I can't because there's no other reason. International Rescue exists solely to help people. You can't hide from that fact," Scott explained.

"Just like Gordon was hiding from me yesterday!"

"He was what?" Jeff asked. "I didn't know this," he looked at Scott.

Scott shrugged in bewilderment. "This is news to me too. How'd you find this out? Gordon didn't say that this morning."

"Alan told me," Virgil said stubbornly.

"Alan," Scott sighed. "Figures. The kid can't keep his trap shut when it matters. When did he say this?"

"Right after he told me to keep my hands off Tin-Tin. I haven't been near her! I wouldn't touch her! I only wanted to draw her!"

There was a collective "ah," of understanding from Scott and Jeff.

"Is that all you can say? I was threatened! Alan threatened me..."

"I've spoken to him about that..." Jeff started to say.

But Virgil was continuing on. "Also, if you really cared about me, you would have got me proper medical treatment..."

"We have, Virgil," Jeff tried to tell him.

"Really? What?" Virgil asked sarcastically. "A doctor in a hospital made out of a tent! And since then an Engineer with a 'medical degree', who puts these things on my head with lots of wires and pretty flashing lights that do absolutely nothing! Come on! I might be as good as born yesterday, but I'm not stupid. Couldn't you have got someone more believable and less of a stereotype?"

"Brains is a genius. He's got multiple degrees. He can't help what he looks and sounds like. He's been doing his best for you..." Scott said.

"And 'Grandma'!" ignoring him, Virgil mimed the quotation marks. "She backs away as soon as she sees me. If her apron so much as brushes against me she's apologising as if it's a capital offence..."

"She doesn't want..." Scott began.

"And you!" Virgil pointed at Scott. "All you do is spend your day in the gym. What are you trying to do? Prove that you're some kind of brain dead muscle man?"

"Hey..." Scott leant forward to protest.

"What is your role in International Rescue? Are you the enforcer, to make sure none of your 'brothers' step out of line? Is it your job to intimidate everyone? Because I'll tell you 'pal', you don't intimidate me!"

"I don't try to..."

"And when you're not in the gym, you're avoiding me! Everyone tells me that we used to be 'so close'. That's a laugh. You don't want to talk to me!"

"Because I don't want to upset you!"

"Upset me? You've never given me the chance to get upset!"

"I thought you didn't like me!"

"And you wondered why? How could I like you when I didn't know you! You haven't exactly been helping me!"

"Don't blame me for this!" for a moment Scott lost his temper. Then he brought it back under control knowing that anger would only aggravate the situation. "I thought you wouldn't want to be near me! Every time I'd go near you I'd cause some kind of adverse reaction...!"

"That wasn't your fault! If you'd taken the time to ask me I would have told you that! You never gave me a chance to get to know you! Even when I tried!"

"You tried? When...?"

"Several times! And every time you'd make an excuse and run away."

"Run away..." Scott stared at Virgil and then flopped back in defeat. "I'm an idiot," he said quietly.

Virgil had finished with him. He rounded on Jeff. "And you! You've made it clear that you don't want me about! You no sooner start tutoring me when you've got to do something else!"

"I'm sorry, Virgil... I've been busy..." Jeff tried, and failed, to excuse his behaviour.

"Busy! You spend all day behind your desk, lording over everyone as if nothing's wrong. And something IS wrong! Something is definitely wrong. Your plan, whatever it is, has gone wrong."

Jeff could sense that the situation was slipping way beyond his grasp.

"So!" Virgil continued on. "In short! According to what you've told me I've got a brother who spends most of his time alone in outer space – spying on everyone on the planet. One who thinks I'm hitting on his girlfriend. One who's hiding from me when he's not saying things he doesn't mean about me, and one who avoids me at every opportunity. On top of that we've got an Engineer who's a part time doctor, a servant who's not a servant, a grandmother who's scared to go near me, and a father who cares only about his work!" He folded his arms firmly. "What a close family we are," he said his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Scott looked at his father. "You know, put that way I've got to agree with him. Even I wouldn't trust us." He turned back to Virgil. "What about Tin-Tin?"

"I hate to think of her involved in your schemes, but I guess she must be. What is she? Camouflage?"

"She's our friend." Scott explained. "She's like a sister to us all – and that includes you, Virgil... Calm down. You know why we're behaving the way we have been. We don't know how to behave around you, how you're going to react..."

"So all this is my fault is it?"

"No, but you're the cause. Now calm down and get a grip on yourself..."

"A grip on myself! Let me tell you, 'Scott'. You've lost your grip on me! Whatever you wanted me for, you're not going to get it! I want off this island and I want it now!"

"We can't now, Virgil," Jeff tried to sound calm. "We've got to make arrangements first..."

"NOW!" Virgil slammed his fist down on the desk. The damaged photo jangled unnervingly.

"Virgil..." Scott began. "You must be hungry. Let's have something to eat and then we can discuss this more rationally."

"Something to eat!" A thought occurred to Virgil. "I'll bet you're tampering with my food. I'll bet that's what's causing my amnesia! Well in that case I'm not eating another thing. Not until I'm as far away from 'Tracy Island' as it's possible to get."

"Virgil!" Scott protested. "You can't starve yourself."

"I won't be starving MYSELF." Virgil leant on the desk and stared Jeff Tracy in the eye. "It's your decision whether or not I eat. If you 'care' for me as you say you do, you'll do everything in your power to take me somewhere safe today. Get me off this island and I'll enjoy a good meal." He lowered his voice dangerously. "Do you understand me?"

Jeff schooled his face into a neutral expression. He returned his son's gaze impassively. "I understand, Virgil. If you want to leave home I'll make the arrangements for as soon as poss..."

"NOW!" Virgil repeated. "And I'm not having anything to do with any of you again."

"Virgil..." Scott tried again.

Virgil swung back to Scott. "None of you! And you can tell Gordon thanks for nothing!" He stormed out of the room.

Scott stared after him. When he looked back at Jeff, his father was entering something into the desktop computer. "Well?"

Jeff watched a blip go down the hall on the computer's map, and turn into a room. "He's gone back to his bedroom and locked the door," he said quietly.

"Now what do we do?" Scott asked. "Do we let him go? And if we do, where to? How can we convince him that we're telling him the truth...?" He looked closely at his father; despair turning to anxiety. "Are you alright?" he stood and quickly went to Jeff's side.

Jeff was pale. "To think that my son has doubts about the authenticity of his own family..." he placed his elbows on the desk and rested his head in his hands. "I feel sick."

"Do you want some water?" Scott didn't wait for an answer, and soon returned carrying a tumbler of clear liquid. "How's that? Can I get you anything else?"

"Just give me a moment, Scott. I'll be alright." Jeff took the tumbler. The water sloshed out of the glass. "Look at me. I'm shaking like a leaf!" He managed to sip a mouthful before he placed the tumbler on a coaster on his desk.

"Do you want me to get Brains?"

Jeff shook his head. "No." He picked up the family photo. Its glass was shattered; a star of broken shards radiating out from Virgil's face.

"You bottle things up too much," Scott opined. "It worries me sometimes..."

"Don't worry. I have my outlets." Jeff carefully placed the damaged photo back in its place on his desk and looked at his eldest. "What do we do now, Scott? How can we convince him we are who we say we are?"

Scott settled on the edge of the desk and looked down on his father. "If he could see you like this, he'd know," he said in concern.

"We can't give him what he wants. He doesn't know what it is himself."

Scott gave his father a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. "I hate to say this about my brother, but he's a fool."

"No, he's not, Scott. He's frightened. I thought he was getting over that, but obviously he isn't, and what's happened over the last few days hasn't helped."

"Alan!" Scott growled. "I'd like to get my hands on him and..."

"It's not only Alan," his father interrupted. "John was right. We're each as much to blame for this as anyone else in the family. We've all behaved foolishly." Jeff started punching keys on the videophone.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked.

"Password protecting the 'phone," Jeff said briefly and wrote the word 'Kansas' on a piece of paper before sticking it to the face of the phone. "I'll do it to all the 'phones. Make sure everyone knows will you?"

"Why? You don't think Virgil would try to ring anyone do you? Who would he ring? He certainly can't look up any 'phone numbers. Do you think he even knows how a 'phone works? You're getting paranoid, Father."

"He's desperate, frightened, and confused, and we both know that when a man is like that he can behave in uncharacteristic ways." Jeff concentrated on the videophone.

Realisation dawned. "He's already tried, hasn't he? That's why you're worried."

Jeff looked up at his son. "I promised him I wouldn't discuss it with anyone. I'm not about to break that promise, Scott. I've got to win his confidence back somehow. So you're not to say anything... to anyone!"

"He says he's not talking to us anyway." Scott groaned, rubbing his face with both hands and then pushing them through his hair. "What do we do?"

Jeff raised his own hands in defeat. "I don't know. Penny's somewhere in the Mediterranean at the moment and I don't know who else I'd be willing to trust. The mood Virgil's in, he'd be likely to talk about International Rescue to the first person he meets."

"Do you think he's serious... about not eating?"

"Do you?" Jeff asked.

"Yes," Scott grimaced. Then he slapped his thighs decisively and stood. "Right! I'm going to do something! I'm not going to let him starve himself."

"What," Jeff asked warily.

Scott was heading towards the door. "I'm going to convince him that it's safe to eat... One way or another."

"Scott," Jeff warned.

"If he thought I was intimidating before, he ain't seen nothin' yet."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"If I knew what I was doing I would have done it weeks ago. If it goes wrong I'll pay the psychiatrist bills... for both of us. I've got preparations to make. I'll see you later."

The door closed behind him.

Jeff sat in silence for a moment. Then he unlocked a drawer and removed a folder. He stared at it briefly before forcing himself to open it.

He tried to read the first page.

He slammed the folder shut.

"I hope your plan works, Scott."

Nineteen  

Virgil slammed his way into the bedroom and locked the door behind him. Rage coursed through his system, not allowing him to think clearly. He'd show them! He'd get the yacht and leave this place. He'd break into the boat shed somehow and steal it! He was supposed to be an engineer. Surely he could work out how to operate a boat!

Then he thought about the view of Tracy Island he'd seen from space. If he were to get a boat where would he go? Miles and miles of ocean to choose from and he had no idea where the nearest bit of inhabited land was. Probably 'International Rescue' would catch him before he got too far away.

On automatic pilot he went to an unidentified box on a table and punched in a code before throwing himself onto the bed. Music filled the room.

Only then did he start to think about what he'd done.

He sat up and looked at the electronic device. How did he know how to operate it? How'd he know that that particular key combination would unleash that particular tune?

For the first time since he'd stormed out of Jeff's study Virgil felt a pang of doubt.

He sat back, trying to analyse what had happened a few moments earlier. He'd got angry, really angry, and anger had told him that these people weren't who they said they were. Did he believe that?

No.

Did he believe that they were his family?

No.

Did he have any real evidence either way?

No.

Did he want to back down?

...

No.

He wanted conclusive proof. He wanted someone give him evidence that would prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was a member of this family. He needed that reassurance.

Virgil cast his eyes about the room. Up till now he hadn't had a really good look around. The feeling that he hadn't belonged had made him believe that he would have been intruding into someone else's possessions.

Virgil made the decision that now was the time to examine this room thoroughly.

If nothing else it would take his mind off his complaining stomach.

A few hours later and he had finished the search of the bedroom. He'd found nothing that had satisfied his need for conclusive proof.

He went into the bathroom and had a drink of water. It was a chance to collect his thoughts.

What was he looking for? He didn't know.

Would he know it if he found it? He didn't know that either.

What would he do if he found some evidence?

He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Virgil rinsed out the glass, replaced it on the bathroom unit and returned to the bedroom.

As he did so he heard a voice call to him from outside the door to the room. It was Tin-Tin and he tried not to listen as she pleaded for him to come out and join them for a meal. He ignored her offer to leave food outside his door. He couldn't bring himself to trust them, not after what he'd heard this morning.

He backed into the studio to get as far away from her voice as he could, plugging his ears with his fingers. Eventually she was silent.

He stood for a moment and looked about him. The toy engineering set was still on the floor, a nearly completed machine standing in the middle of the remaining components.

He ignored it and started examining the room.

Gordon finally awoke and went in search of his family. He found John in the lounge. "Hiya."

"Gordon? I thought you wouldn't surface until tomorrow!" John exclaimed. "How are you feeling now?"

"Okay I guess. How's Virgil?"

It took John a while to answer. "Things have kind of gone pear shaped," he eventually said.

Gordon looked alarmed. "What do you mean?"

"He's said that he doesn't believe that we're his family and is insisting that we let him move away."

"Move away! Where to?"

"I don't know. Scott's going to try to change his mind or something."

"How?"

"He's been muttering about making plans, and talking with Grandma, but he hasn't let anyone else in on his scheme."

"But Virgil can't leave! He's a part of our family! He's our brother!" Gordon slumped into a chair. "This is all my fault isn't it?"

"No it's not," their father's voice came from behind them. "This is something that's been brewing since the accident."

"Yes," John agreed. "Don't blame yourself, Gordon."

"But if I hadn't said those things! I didn't mean them, Dad! Honest!"

"I know. I've had a talk with Scott and Virgil and I know what happened. Unfortunately Virgil interpreted what you said incorrectly, and we haven't been able to convince him otherwise."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"It's not your fault, Gordon. We won't panic yet. We'll give Scott a chance to do whatever he's got planned and then re-evaluate the situation tomorrow."

Virgil sat back on his heels and stared at the object in his hands. Was this the 'holy grail' he'd been seeking?

He carried it over to the light to examine it closer.

It was a drawing done in coloured pencils.

A drawing of Tin-Tin. There was an inscription on the back and Virgil could read and understand the words 'To Alan' and 'From Virgil'.

Virgil could see that the picture had been done in his style. More disturbing was the fact that it was almost exactly the drawing that he'd envisaged doing when he'd asked her to pose for him. He went back into the bedroom and got the sketchpad that he'd been using to make some rough drafts. He compared the two pictures. The angle of her head was the same. The way the light highlighted her hair was nearly identical. It was the same smile.

Coincidence?

Possibly.

So now what?

He sat in a seat that looked out over the pool and courtyard, but he wasn't looking at the view. He was comparing the two pictures.

Had he drawn that picture he'd just found?

Had someone else, copying his style?

These people were clever. They were clever enough to think of getting someone to draw a picture that could pass off as one he'd done himself and maybe slip it in amongst his things...

Virgil suddenly found that he was angry again. This time he wasn't angry with the Tracy family. He was angry with Virgil Tracy. Here he was, potentially with the evidence he'd been seeking, and he wasn't willing to let himself believe what he was seeing with his own eyes.

What was wrong with him!

Why didn't he want to be part of this family? They were wonderful people and he would be proud to be considered to be one of them. He admired their goals. He admired their skills.

So why couldn't he let himself believe?

He dropped the drawing back where he'd found it and took a step backwards. He trod on a piece of construction kit, bruising his foot. Anger boiled over again and, with a yell, he picked up his carefully crafted machine and threw it against the wall! It hit hard, scarring the wallpaper, and collapsed to the floor in a disjointed heap.

Virgil stormed back into the bedroom and fell onto the bed, grabbing the pillow and pulling it over his head as if he were trying to block out all the negative thoughts that were filling it.

There was a bang and the door to the hallway slid open uninvited.

Scott Tracy filled the doorway.

He could cut an imposing figure when he wanted, as could be testified by a number of subordinates, and he was using that ability to full advantage now. The figure-hugging top, which accentuated his muscular body, folded arms and scowl, all helped create the impression that he was here for a reason and nobody was going to divert him from his plan. The scratch on his face made it seem that the plan wasn't going to be a wholly savoury one.

Scott Tracy was a man on a mission.

Virgil looked at the interloper without enthusiasm, thinking that he was sure he'd locked that door and wondering what he'd done wrong in the process. "What do you want?"

"Are you joining us for dinner, Brother?"

Virgil's stomach was saying yes, but his mind told it to be quiet. "No."

"Fine," Scott stated and turned away.

Virgil relaxed.

His respite was only temporary for it appeared that Scott had anticipated a negative answer. He collected the card table from the hallway and set it up in the middle of the bedroom. Next appeared a piece of wood, which covered the surface of the table, forks, salt and pepper, mugs and a thermos flask. He disappeared into the hallway again.

Virgil was telling himself that he could hold his ground and stick to his plan of not eating anything now, but sneaking out after dark, when Scott reappeared.

Virgil's heart sank. Scott was carrying two bags, a pillow and sleeping bag. He removed Gordon's things and then tossed one bag and the sleeping gear onto the temporary cot. The other bag he placed carefully underneath. "I'm sleeping in here tonight."

"So I gathered."

"Any problems with that, Brother?"

"Would it make any difference if I did?" Virgil glared at the other man. "Do you think you going all G.I. Joe is going to have some affect on me?"

"G.I. Joe!" Scott said with affronted dignity. "Please! I was proud to serve in the Air Force."

"Lucky you," Virgil said sarcastically.

Scott bit back a reply and squared off so he was looking Virgil in the eye. "Look!" he said threateningly. "I'm warning you now. I can be your best friend, or your worst nightmare. I've always been your best friend but if you want a change..." he petered out dangerously. "It's your choice... Brother."

"Oh, so I have a choice, do I?" Virgil was wondering why he was still feeling antagonistic towards this man.

"Not if you keep that attitude."

"Fine," Virgil swung around so he was still sitting on his bed but his back was towards Scott and the dinner table, intending to ignore them both.

It was a resolution that was sorely tested when interesting sounds and tantalising smells started filling the room. Virgil turned back angrily. "Do you have to do that in here?"

Scott was stirring a pot of stew that was simmering on a small burner on the table. "No. But if you're not going to join us in the dining room, I intend to make sure that you eat something. I'm not having you waste away."

"I'm not hungry."

"Yeah, sure," Scott snarled. "You didn't have dinner last night and you haven't eaten all day. It's now dinnertime and I'll bet you're starving."

"I'm not eating anything. I don't trust you. I don't trust anyone on this island."

"We'll see." Scott ladled three big spoonfuls of stew onto a plate. He then reached into a bag and pulled out a long bread roll, which he broke in half.

Virgil's mouth watered as he saw the steam rise from the freshly baked loaf and smelt the irresistible smells of the meal. His resolution began to waver.

Then Scott picked up the plate, half the roll and a fork and settled down on his own bed. He began to eat.

Virgil watched him in amazement.

Scott enjoyed three forkfuls of stew, took a bite out his half of the roll and then looked at Virgil, chewing slowly. He swallowed. "If you're going to have anything you'd better get stuck in, Brother. I'm warning you that if you don't I'm going to get Brains. He has several interesting ways of force feeding people."

"Brains?" Virgil gave a bitter laugh. "I'm bigger than him. He wouldn't have a chance."

"And I'm bigger than you. And stronger. Do you think you could take me on? I'd be the one holding you down."

Virgil folded his arms petulantly. "Is this an example of how 'caring' this family is? So 'caring' that you'd threaten me?"

"It's because we care that we'd make sure that you didn't starve yourself to death."

"Am I to take it that this means that you're not going to let me escape this island?"

"Oh, you can go... if you wish. But it's not convenient yet..."

Virgil snorted.

"We want to make sure that you stay with someone who'll look after you properly. And until Father gets hold of Penny you're staying here."

"You calling that escaping? You people picking where I go and who I stay with?"

Scott looked at him. "And where were you planning on going?"

Virgil had no answer to that.

"What else were you planning to do? Take the boat and head out into the Pacific Ocean?"

A shiver went down Virgil's spine. How'd Scott guess?

"Penny lives in England. You couldn't get much further away from us than there. Now swallow your pride and eat." Scott resumed attacking his own meal.

Virgil thought for a moment. Why was he being stubborn over this? The reason why he wasn't eating was because he didn't trust what they were feeding him. Yet here was Scott hoeing into the food with impunity. Surely it wouldn't hurt...

Maybe he did trust them after all.

He picked up a plate and helped himself to some of the stew. Then he took the remaining half of the bread, a fork and retired to his own bed, making sure he was as far away from Scott as he could manage.

Scott hid his smile in a mouthful of bread roll and made no comment.

The meal was eaten in silence, broken only by the bubbling of the stew on the portable stove.

Scott helped himself to seconds, retrieving a second still warm roll from a bag. "There's more there if you want it, Brother."

Virgil looked at his empty plate. He could still taste the tender bits of meat, carrots, peas, onions...

He helped himself to seconds.

When they'd finished eating. Scott poured a couple of coffees out of the thermos and placed one on the table near Virgil. With no comment he returned to his cot and sat back to enjoy his own drink.

Virgil refrained from speaking himself and took up his mug...

Scott smiled at his family when he returned the meal things to the kitchen.

"Well?" his father asked and helped him with some of his paraphernalia.

Scott leant back against the kitchen counter and folded his arms. "Well he hasn't tried to kick me out, and he's had some of Grandma's stew. He enjoyed it so much he had seconds."

"That's no surprise," Gordon commented. "He loves her stew."

"Don't we all," Scott agreed.

"Has he said anything?" John asked.

"He looked pretty angry at first, but he seems to have calmed down. Initially he was still talking about leaving, but he hasn't said a lot since then."

"Do you think your plan's working?" Jeff asked.

"Well... Part one of the plan was to get him to eat something. Which I've done. Part two is to convince him to stay. If I'm lucky I'll also convince him that we are his family."

"Scott Tracy to the rescue again," Gordon stated. "If you can pull this off I'll take your place next time you're on Thunderbird Five duty."

Scott grinned and then rotated his shoulders uncomfortably. "I think I've put on weight. This shirt's a little tight."

John eyed him critically. "That's not fat, Scott, it's muscle. I warned you that if you spent too much time in the gym you'd give Thunderbird One a hernia."

Scott chuckled.

Jeff looked past them both. "Ah, Scott," he said quietly. "If you don't want Alan jealous of you as well as Virgil, it might pay to leave now."

"Huh?" naively Scott looked at his father and then back in the direction Jeff was looking.

Tin-Tin was staring at him. She started when she became aware that his gaze was on her and turned away, blushing furiously.

"Oh, heck," Scott muttered. "I'd better get back."

"I think that's a good idea," Jeff agreed.

Scott hurried out of the kitchen.

His grandmother sighed as she watched him leave. "Your father used to have a physique like that when he was Scott's age," she told Jeff. "All the girls in the town lusted after him, but he was mine..." She sighed again, gazing at the door through which Scott had just departed. "The things that body could do..."

"Mother!" Jeff exclaimed in horror.

She smiled girlishly at him. "It's alright, Jefferson. I'm thinking about your father, not your son."

Several hours had passed. Scott spent the time reading an aviation magazine and Virgil sat on his bed in a sullen silence, scowling at the other man who appeared to be blissfully unaware of the daggers that were being shot in his direction.

Eventually Scott looked at his watch. "Lights out in five minutes, Brother."

"What!"

"You heard me!"

"I thought this was supposed to be my room!"

"I thought you didn't believe that. I'm turning the lights out at twenty two hundred hours on the dot. You'd better be ready."

"In English?"

"Ten o-clock!" Scott said brusquely. "You've got four point six seven minutes now, Brother."

"Do you think that if you keep saying that I'll believe you?" Virgil asked petulantly.

"No. I'm saying it because it's the truth. You've got four point four eight minutes now... Brother."

Grumbling Virgil headed into the bathroom.

Scott grinned to himself...

...And turned the light out as promised, just as Virgil was re-entering the room. "Hey! I can't see."

He got no sympathy. "Go to bed!"

"How can I if I can't find my pyjamas."

"So they're your pyjamas now are they?"

Virgil was silent, but Scott could hear him stumbling about in the darkness. For his own part Scott didn't bother getting changed, contenting himself with removing his shoes and tight T-shirt. He climbed under the blankets on the cot and lay there listening to Virgil bump into something, curse mildly, and then manage to crawl into bed.

"Goodnight, Virgil," Scott said.

He had to admit to himself that he was disappointed when he didn't get a reply.

"Do you think this plan of Scott's is working?" Gordon asked.

"If anyone can get through to Virgil it's Scott," John said confidently.

"Good. 'Cause it'd be nice to have a complete night's sleep," Gordon noted.

"If you go to bed now, you'll be able to sleep for longer," his father told him.

"I don't want to go to bed. I want Scott to come out and tell me that everything's okay."

"Go to bed, Gordon," Jeff ordered.

"Aren't I a little old to be told to go to bed by my father?" Gordon asked.

Jeff Tracy gave him a look.

"I'm old enough to make up my own mind," Gordon stated and stood. "Night everyone."

He received a chorus of "Night, Gordon," as he traipsed out of the lounge...

Twenty  

Scott lay in his cot, listening to every sound that was coming from the other bed. Eventually he heard his brother's breathing settle into the rhythmical pattern of sleep. It was only then that he allowed himself to relax enough to doze for a short time.

Several times during the night he awoke and listened for any sign of restlessness.

There were none.

Eventually he checked his watch. One a.m. Nearly the time when Gordon had said Virgil's nightmares had tended to begin. Scott lay quietly and listened.

He was therefore awake when he heard the first signs of distress. He climbed out of his cot and padded softly to his brothers bedside. "Virgil?" he whispered. "It's okay."

Virgil stirred in his sleep, turning his face to the voice. A shaft of moonlight fell across his face, casting into sharp relief the expression of torment on it. "Scotty?" he whimpered. He held out a hand in the pathetic gesture of a small child.

Scott had a warm feeling of déjà vu as he took the hand and rubbed it reassuringly. "It's okay, Virgie. Scotty's here... I'll look after you. I always have haven't I?"

"Make the monster go away, Scotty..."

"I will."

"Help me."

"I will help you," Scott repeated. "But you've got to help me. You've got to come back to us, Virgil."

Virgil's eyelids flickered and Scott laid his hand back under the bedclothes before backing up so he was sitting on the floor and his back was against the cot. It was the most unthreatening position he could find.

Virgil awoke slowly. "Scott?" he said thickly.

"I'm here," Scott said gently.

"I think I remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"Everything."

Scott fought an impulse to become excited. He forced himself to remain calm and quiet. "Do you still remember?"

"No," Virgil said sadly. "It was like a dream." Scott could hear a tremor in his voice, but refrained from commenting.

He gave his brother time to collect himself.

Eventually Virgil sat up and turned the light on. He pulled a pillow out from behind his head and hugged it close.

Scott noticed that his eyes were red. "Are you okay?"

Virgil answered the question with a question. "Why do I have to live in this nightmare?"

"I don't know, Virgil. If I did perhaps I could help you 'wake up' from it."

"Why did this have to happen to me?" Virgil suddenly cried out in frustration. "I feel like a child. Here I am... You tell me I'm supposed to be a member of your family, have a responsible job, be able to do these fantastic things, and yet I can't do anything, I don't know anything, I don't remember anything..." his voice cracked and he fought back tears.

"I wish I could say something to help." Scott averted his gaze by retrieving the bag from under his cot. "Maybe this'll go someway towards making you feel better. He pulled out a vacuum flask and two mugs. He placed the mugs on the table and filled them up with hot chocolate. "Whenever our father was away looking for work, after Ma died," he explained, "you'd get nightmares. The only thing that would calm you down would be Grandma's hot chocolate with marshmallows." He plopped a couple into each of their mugs. "And then..." he grinned and removed another bag from the pack, "I'd add my own secret ingredients." He dropped four tablet sized brown disks into each mug.

"What are they?" Virgil asked warily.

"Chocolate buttons," Scott held a drink out to his brother.

Virgil took it and eyed the mug as if it might explode. "How could anyone sleep with that much sugar in their system?"

Scott picked up his own drink and retired to the cot, sitting with his back against the wall. "We didn't. We'd spend the rest of the night talking. Kept John awake, but he didn't mind. It gave him an excuse to read his books."

Virgil savoured the rich chocolatey smell of the liquid. "It was you who left the drink that first night, wasn't it."

"Uh, huh," Scott agreed.

"What did you talk about? When Fa... When he was away."

Scott thought about the answer. "What we wanted to be when we grew up. I always wanted to be a pilot. You kept changing your mind. One minute you were going to be a fireman, then a concert pianist, then a mechanic, or a great artist."

"Is that all?"

"No... We'd talk about Father, how we could help him. Wondering what job he'd eventually get. We'd talk about Ma. I don't mind admitting to you that initially we all shed a few tears. I think it helped us get over her death and in the long run we became stronger."

"We must have talked about more than that."

Scott noticed the unguarded 'we' slip into Virgil's conversation. "We did, but I can't remember what. I know that we did talk about what your nightmares were about."

"And what were they?"

Scott decided to try something. "Monsters."

"Monsters?"

Scott nodded. "Monsters. You were always having dreams where monsters were taking away a family member. Usually Father."

Virgil sipped at his hot chocolate.

Scott sampled his own. "Maybe that's what you've been dreaming about this last month," he eventually said.

"No..." Virgil stared into the brown liquid. "I know what I was dreaming now."

Scott looked up in interest. "What?"

"A pair of hands... Skeletal hands are reaching out for me... A skull is screaming at me."

"Sounds horrible."

"It's wearing a white dress."

"What?"

"It's wearing a white dress," Virgil repeated.

"Your monster is wearing a white dress as it grabs at you?"

"Yes... No... It's not grabbing at me," Virgil reached out, then turned his hand so his palm was facing upwards. "It's begging me for help. We're both falling."

"Do you think it's been the same dream every night?" Scott asked.

Virgil cupped the hot mug tightly in both hands. "I think so."

"I wonder what it means," Scott said reflectively.

"It means I don't get a good night's sleep," Virgil said irritably. "And neither does anyone else."

"Well Gordon should tonight," Scott sipped at his hot chocolate and then looked ashamedly at his brother. "I'm sorry, Virgil."

"Sorry for what?"

"I haven't been much help to you over the last month. It seemed that every time I tried to get close something bad would happen. I kept thinking there must be something wrong with me."

Virgil shook his head. "No, not you. There's something wrong with me." He sighed and wiped his eyes.

"What you need is some soothing music," Scott stated firmly. "That always makes you feel better. Why don't you turn your stereo on?"

"Stereo?"

"Yeah. That thing," Scott pointed at the electronic device.

"Oh, is that what that is? I wondered."

"You mean Gordon didn't show you?" Scott shook his head in exasperation. "Would you like me to?"

"Please," Virgil said eagerly.

Scott shifted his position so he was able to reach the stereo. "You turn it on by pushing this button," Scott pressed it and the stereo lit up like a Christmas tree. "Initially you'll probably find the radio easier to handle, but the tunes you've got loaded are listed in the database..." The system's computer sprang into life and Scott scanned through the long list of music. "How on earth have you stored everything? I can't see any logic to this – but I guess you did." He thought for a moment. "How would you store your music, Virgil?"

Virgil found himself being stared at by a pair of piercing blue eyes.

Scott smiled slowly. "Of course." He punched in a series of numbers and a gentle piece of music wafted out the speakers. "There you go. Have a lie down and a listen. You'll soon feel better."

"Thank you." Virgil didn't accept the invitation to lie down but instead rested his head against the headboard and closed his eyes.

Scott watched the lines of worry and fear fade away from his brother's face and enjoyed the moment.

When the music finished Virgil opened his eyes again.

"Better?" Scott asked.

Virgil nodded. "Yes."

"Glad to see I haven't lost my touch," Scott said a trifle smugly. "Gordon's right. I do know what makes you tick."

"Do you?" Virgil looked at Scott. "I think you do. I think you understand me, more than I understand myself at the moment. That..." he hesitated, "that 'G.I. Joe' act...

"Air Force," Scott corrected.

"...Was only an act wasn't it?"

Scott gave a shy grin and nodded. "Yeah, it was an act. I wasn't about to let you go hungry. I gambled that I did know you well enough to know how to get you to eat. Thanks for proving me right."

Virgil attempted to say something and stopped himself twice before steeling himself for the third attempt. "Can I tell you something, Scott?"

"Shoot."

"I want to believe that you are my family. I like you all, and I like the idea of you being my family... But I don't seem to be able to believe. Even when things happen that only make sense if I tell myself that they happen because I knew that they were going to happen.

Scott tried to make sense of this statement. "Such as?"

"Such as... I came in here after our 'discussion' this morning, and I was so mad I automatically turned the... stereo on. And what's more I selected the piece of music that I wanted to hear. How'd I do that? How did I know?"

"You knew because you've always known. Because the stereo is yours. That's probably why Gordon's never shown you how it operates, because he doesn't know. He was probably going to ask me to show you... but I was too busy running scared."

"But why can't I believe that that stereo is mine?" Virgil asked. He shifted position so he was now on his knees. "Please tell me something that will make me believe!" he begged. "I can't bear not having faith in what you all tell me!"

"Virgil..." Scott leant forward. "I wish I could. Believe me I've been trying to think of something for ages that will help you believe, but I can't. The only things I can think of are related to memories that you won't know. For instance, I could tell you that you got that scar on your forehead from when you were shot down by the USN Sentinel..."

"I was what!"

"I think the Captain thought Thunderbird Two was a missile heading for the States or something..."

"See, that doesn't help. From my point of view that sounds suspicious. Why would someone shoot down an International Rescue craft if International Rescue is as innocent as you say?"

"But to think that you'd have to believe that you were on board that craft!"

Virgil shook his head. "No. To think that I'd only have to believe that it's a story that you've concocted or had happened to someone else and you've made into my history. So I've got a scar..."

"Virgil!" Scott said in mild irritation. "You've got to meet me halfway here."

"I'm trying! I feel as if there's a brick wall between us and I can't scale it. A brick wall called amnesia!" Virgil sat back and pounded his pillow to relieve his feelings of frustration.

Scott watched him helplessly. Then something happened that lifted his spirits. "Got it! You're going to sneeze three times."

Virgil stared at him. "What?" He sneezed.

"That's one."

"Why'd you say I was going to sneeze...?" Virgil sneezed a second time, "... and why three times?"

"Two!" Scott was grinning. "Because you always rub your nose that way before you sneeze and you always sneeze..." He was interrupted by the third sneeze. "Three!" he cheered. "You always sneeze three times!"

Virgil sniffed. "I do?"

"Yep! And I'll tell you something else. You always sneeze when you go out of a dark room into sunlight. Brains said it's a medically recognised phenomena and has a medical term for it, but I can't remember what it is."

"Autosomal Dominant Compelling Helio-Ophthalmic Outburst," Virgil stated.

"That's right! Adchoo!" Scott exclaimed. Then he stared at his brother. "How'd you remember that?"

Virgil shrugged. "Dunno." Then he frowned "How'd you know I did that? You've hardly been around..."

Scott looked meaningfully at him.

It was as if a light bulb had suddenly been illuminated, except that Virgil didn't sneeze in the glare. "You are my brother," he exclaimed as if he'd only just worked it out.

"Halleluiah," Scott said. "Do you believe us now?"

Virgil nodded, his eyes wide with the sudden revelation. "I do believe you. Don't ask me why a sneeze was the only thing that could convince me, but I do believe you."

"Sounds like you sneezed down that brick wall."

"Well, I've blown a hole in it. It's still there, stopping me from remembering everything, but..." Virgil smiled, "at least I've got some certainty at last. What a relief."

"Tell me about it," Scott agreed. "Do you feel up to rejoining the family fold in the morning?"

Virgil nodded. "That's if they'll accept me after what I said about them."

Scott waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that. They'll be so pleased that you believe them that they'll forgive you anything."

Virgil frowned. "Even Gordon? He didn't sound ready to forgive me yesterday, he sounded like he wanted to get rid of me."

"Gordon was tired," Scott told him. "When he gets that tired his mouth kind of disengages from his brain. He says things he doesn't mean and then usually can't remember what he said the following day."

"Something we have in common then," Virgil said.

"He's feeling terrible and is blaming himself for you running away."

"Oh," Virgil said quietly. "It wasn't really his fault. It was my crazy head to blame."

"You're not crazy," Scott told him. "But next time you decide you need to escape, choose somewhere a little less dangerous, will you? You nearly gave me heart failure yesterday..." He placed his mug on the floor. "Tell you what. How about I take you on a tour of the island later today? I'll show you the places to steer clear of if you feel the need escape again."

"I hope I won't feel the need to escape again."

"So do I. But it'll give us a chance to get to know each other... That's if you want to," Scott looked at his brother hopefully.

"I upset you and Gordon, didn't I? I'm sorry." Virgil sounded despondent.

"It wasn't your fault."

Virgil wondered how many times he was going to have to repeat these words before he would no longer feel the compulsion to do so. "No, but I was the cause, wasn't I.?"

"You know, that is one thing, the only thing, that everyone is finding irritating. No one blames you for your amnesia or things that happen because of it. You don't need to apologise."

"Sorry," Virgil said, his eyes downcast.

Scott ignored the apology.

"I guess this has been as hard for you as it has for me... but in a different way," Virgil said.

"It's been hard for everyone," Scott told him. "Normally we pull together and support each other. That's how we cope in difficult situations. But this time..." he shrugged, "well, this time we've been pulling back from each other, and worse, we've been pulling away from you when you've needed our support more than anything. It's us who should be apologising to you, Virgil."

"No," Virgil shook his head. He still looked depressed.

"So... Do you want to go for that walk today?" Scott half expected Virgil to decline the invitation.

Instead Virgil's face lit up in a smile. "I'd like that."

"Great!" Scott beamed. "I guess we should get some shuteye then."

Virgil indicated his empty mug regretfully. "I don't feel tired now."

"No," Scott admitted. "Neither do I. Oh well, in that case..." he reached into his bag and pulled out the vacuum flask again, "...we may as well finish this off." He poured them each another drink and then tossed the bags of marshmallows and chocolate buttons to Virgil to take care of while he continued to rummage about in his pack. "Here," he said pulling several boxes out, "when we got sick of talking we'd play games." He balanced the boxes on the edge of the table as he returned the flask to the bag.

Virgil allocated each mug its requirement of sweets and then picked up the top game. "I remember this one!"

"You remember...! But you never liked that game," Scott took the box from Virgil and looked at it. "I always beat you," he said with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Probably why I didn't like playing it," Virgil told him.

"Can you remember how to play it?" Scott asked.

"I don't know. Shall we try and find out?"

Two hours later and they were both still wide awake, playing games, laughing and, most importantly...

Enjoying each other's company.

Twenty One  

Gordon bounced into the kitchen the following morning. "Mornin' all!" he said with gusto.

"Good morning, Dear," his grandmother gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Mmmn. Anything!" he told her. "I could eat a horse, or, failing that, a barrel full of seahorses."

"I can't oblige you with seahorses," she informed him. "Would you be willing to make do with banana, bacon, and cream cheese on hotcakes?"

"And maple syrup?"

"Of course."

"Grandma! I love you!" Gordon gave her a big bear hug.

"Would you like a coffee, Mister Gordon?" Kyrano asked.

"I'd love one."

"How are you feeling, Gordon?" his father asked.

"Fighting fit," Gordon told him and started shadow boxing around his grandmother.

She turned and waved a spoon at him. "Go and sit down, Gordon. If you spill this batter you won't be getting any hotcakes!"

Gordon hightailed it to the table.

"I take it you had a good night's sleep," John said. "You did, didn't you?"

"If I say no will I still get hotcakes?" Gordon pulled his chair out from the table.

"You'll get dry toast," John told him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great. Honestly I haven't had such a good nights sleep in a long time," Gordon admitted. "I don't know what Scott did to Virgil but it worked. Either that or Brains drugged my drink last night."

Brains gave him a shy smile and shook his head.

"I woke up at one point and heard them both laughing," John said. "So I guess things were going well."

"At what time?" Gordon asked.

"I don't know. I didn't look at the clock."

"Mister Scott is up late this morning," Kyrano noted.

"He is," Jeff agreed. "We haven't seen hide nor hair of either of them. But we haven't heard them either, so we'll take that as a good sign."

"It's either a good sign or Virgil's murdered Scott in his sleep and then run away again," Gordon said brightly.

A cheerful whistling was heard in the hallway.

"I guess not," Gordon amended.

Scott strode into the room. He'd retrieved his dressing gown and was wearing it over what he'd worn to bed. "Good Morning!"

"You sound in high spirits," Jeff smiled. "I take it things went well."

"Yup." Scott started pouring his ritual cup of coffee.

Tin-Tin entered the room. She saw Scott, dressed in his concealing dressing gown, and looked slightly disappointed.

Scott grinned. "Hey, Tin-Tin. What say you and I give Alan something to be jealous about?" He winked at her.

Kyrano smiled benignly.

She stared at him, then giggled and gave him playful shove. "Oh, Scott!"

He gave a dramatic sigh. "I don't know. It's terrible this power I have over women. They can't keep their hands off me."

John snorted "Yeah. Only when they're pushing you away. Where's Virgil?"

"Getting washed."

"So..." Jeff said. "Don't keep us in suspense. What happened?"

Scott claimed his chair at the table. "I gave him the 'bad cop' treatment and turned the lights out at ten," he explained. "Then I waited. It was just like when he used to get those nightmares when Father was away. Remember, Grandma?"

"What!" Jeff exclaimed. He looked at his mother who smiled serenely back.

"I remember," she said.

"I don't!" Jeff said.

"Didn't you ever tell him?" Scott asked Mrs Tracy.

"No. I thought your father had enough worries finding work, without worrying unnecessarily about you boys as well," she admitted. "I figured what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him and that, between you and I, we could handle anything."

Jeff frowned at her and made the decision to discover what else he hadn't been told about later.

"So, what happened?" John asked.

"Then I gave him the 'good cop' treatment. And, I am pleased to report, that not only did I convince him to eat; not only did I convince him that we weren't intent on world domination, or what ever it was he thought we were capable of; not only did I find out what Virgil's nightmare is..."

"Yes...?" Gordon sat forward.

"I've convinced him that we are his family!" Scott finished triumphantly. He gave them some of the highlights of the night's events.

Tin-Tin clapped her hands together. "Oh! That's wonderful!"

"You da man," Gordon crowed and gave Scott a high five.

"Nice one," John added his congratulations. "I told you, you should have been more involved all along."

"Just for that I'll cook you some extra hotcakes, Scott," his Grandma offered.

"And does he still believe that? Now that it's morning?" Jeff asked with caution.

"Yep," Scott reassured him and his father allowed himself a smile in relief. "And we were getting along like a house on fire. I'm going to take him on a tour of some of the places that Gordon hasn't shown him after breakfast."

"Speaking of Gordon," Gordon stood. "If you'll all excuse me, I think I'll go and apologise to Virgil personally. I need to do some serious grovelling." He paused at the kitchen counter on the way out. "Don't let Scott eat all the hotcakes, Grandma."

"I won't, Darling, I'm making enough for everyone. And tell Virgil to hurry up or his will be cold."

"What was this nightmare about?" Jeff asked.

"Would you believe that he is falling beside a skeleton, which is wearing a white dress and is pleading for his help?"

The family all looked at each other. "That's all?" John asked.

"That's all he remembered."

"It doesn't sound like something Virgil would normally be afraid of," Tin-Tin noted.

"Nothing's normal at the moment as far as Virgil's concerned," Jeff reminded her.

Brains was frowning. "I-Interesting. The skeleton is a negative symbol, f-frequently associated with death. But w-why is it wearing a white dress?"

"That's what I asked him," Scott replied. "He didn't know."

"D-Dreams are sometimes an expression of the s-subconscious," Brains said with a meditative air.

"So what's he subconsciously thinking about then?" John asked. "Maybe if we knew we could find a cure for the amnesia."

Brains didn't appear to hear him as he gazed thoughtfully into space.

Scott turned when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Gordon was standing there. In contrast to his earlier jovial mood, he now looked deadly serious. "Where'd you say Virgil was?"

"In his bathroom getting washed."

Gordon shook his head. "He's not there now. I checked his bedroom, bathroom, studio and the lounge. No sign of him."

"What!" Scott was on his feet. "But I told him I'd meet him here!"

"Now calm down, Scott," Jeff tried to be reassuring. "He might be embarrassed about what he said yesterday. We'll just have to tell him that it doesn't matter and that we understand."

"That's when we find him!" John exclaimed.

"I'll soon track him on the computer!" Jeff stood. "There's no need to panic."

They all made a panicked beeline for the door.

They stopped abruptly when a figure stepped into the kitchen.

Virgil looked startled by the sudden onslaught of people. "Uh... H-Hi. What's going on?"

Scott answered quickly. "We, ah, we thought we heard the alarm."

"Oh," Virgil said. "I've just come through the lounge and I didn't hear it."

"We must be hearing things," John said awkwardly. "I guess we've got a bit trigger happy."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed and enlarged on the lie. "There's a bird around here that's a bit of a mimic. It was probably one of those."

"Come on everyone!" Mrs Tracy tried to resurrect some order. "Breakfast's ready and I'm not going to let it spoil!"

Everyone traipsed back to the table.

Everyone except Gordon, who pulled Virgil to one side. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean what I said yesterday."

"I know," Virgil acknowledged. "Scott explained it to me."

"You're still my friend?"

Virgil nodded. "Friend and brother."

Gordon's face split into a delighted grin. "It's great to hear you say that!"

"Gordon," Mrs Tracy called. "We need more cream cheese. Will you get it please?"

Virgil was closer. "I'll get it." He opened the fridge door, reached inside, removed a container and shut the fridge door again. Then he stopped.

So did everyone else.

Virgil stared at the container in his hand. "How'd I do that?"

Gordon took the container from his brother and read the label. "Cream cheese," he said in wonder. "How'd you know?"

"I don't know," Virgil said dazedly. "I just grabbed it."

"Well did you remember that's where it lives, or did you read the label?" Gordon asked excitedly.

Virgil shook his head "Neither... I think. I don't know how I knew. My hand just kind of went to the right place."

Gordon looked at his family. "You saw! I didn't prompt him."

Virgil was wearing his 'I'm confused' frown.

"I've noticed things like that happen a few times lately," Tin-Tin said. "Memories seem to appear out of nowhere."

"And disappear just as quickly," Virgil sighed.

"You thought you remembered everything last night, didn't you?" Scott reminded Virgil.

"How do you mean everything?" Jeff asked cautiously.

"He means everything," Virgil said. "It doesn't seem real now. I think I must have dreamt it."

"It seemed to be a pretty real dream," Scott told him.

Jeff decided not to push the issue. "Come on you two," he told his two younger sons. "The hotcakes are disappearing."

"Scott's got most of 'em," John complained.

"Grandma said I could have extra!"

"But not all at once!"

"Can I say something?" Virgil asked.

Everyone stopped what he or she was doing and gave him their full attention.

"I was told last night," Virgil began slowly, "that I apologise too much for things that none of us have any control over. But I would like to apologise for what I said and did yesterday. I know now that I behaved irrationally." He slowly looked around the group, looking each individual in the eye. "I know it's not easy, for any of us, but I'd like to ask you all to try and treat me the way you used to; the way you would have a month ago before my accident. If I don't understand what you are saying or doing, I'll ask, and maybe in that way, I'll get to know you, and myself, better... And I'll get to know you all as my brothers," he indicated Gordon, John and Scott before shifting his gaze to Jeff, "my father..."

Jeff smiled at him.

"...My Grandmother..."

Mrs Tracy inclined her head towards her grandson.

Virgil looked at Kyrano, Brains and finally Tin-Tin, "...And my friends."

Tin-Tin looked down shyly.

"But, the hardest person I've got to get to know is Virgil Tracy. You've all done wonders in showing him to me so far, but I know I've still got a long way to go. I'm hopeful that with a lot of patience, mainly on my part, I'll begin to understand, and know, who I am."

The family were silent as they listened to his statement

"We're all here for you, Virgil," his father told him. "Always remember that, no matter what. If you need help, please ask."

Virgil gave him a grateful smile.

"Now," Jeff continued on. "We've got a fantastic breakfast going cold. Dig in everyone!"

"Pass the maple syrup please, Virgil," John asked.

Virgil looked at the containers in front of him. "Which is the maple syrup?"

"This one," Scott handed it to him, and Virgil passed it over to John.

"What were you doing in the lounge, Virgil?" Gordon scooped a banana onto his hotcakes.

"Checking out something that Scott told me."

"What was that?" Jeff asked.

"He said I 'suffered' from Autosomal Dominant Compelling Helio-Ophthalmic Outburst. So I thought I'd test him out."

Brains looked knowledgeable as the rest of the group looked at Scott quizzically.

"And?" Scott asked.

Virgil grinned. "Three times."

"Ha! Told you," Scott said in glee. "I wish I'd thought of it earlier. I would have been after you with the pepper."

Now everyone was looking at him with a mystified expression.

The family finished breakfast and sat back. Scott looked at his watch. "If we're going to go on that walk we'd better think about getting moving," he said to Virgil.

"Apart from cleaning my teeth, I'm ready," Virgil told him. "I take it you're not going to wear that."

Scott looked down at his dressing gown and slippers. He wrinkled his nose. "I did think about it, but perhaps something more practical would be a good idea. Give me fifteen minutes?"

"Okay."

Scott hurried out of the room.

"Would anyone mind if I got in a little practise on the piano while I'm waiting for Scott?" Virgil asked.

"It's pretty much your piano," his father told him. "Hardly anyone else uses it so you can play it whenever you want."

"Thanks. I'd better get started then. Excuse me," Virgil left the room. A short time later they could hear a popular radio tune being played on the baby grand.

"I'm glad he can still play," Jeff said quietly. "Things haven't seemed right without Virgil's music in the background... Not that they are right," he added hastily.

They heard a wrong note and, as a group, flinched.

"Still got a way to go though, hasn't he?" John noted.

"All those years of learning, all those years of practice, gone in an instant." Tin-Tin said, her eyes sober. "What must that feel like?"

Scott led the way up the path. Virgil followed behind, enjoying listening to his brother tell him about the various parts of the island.

Scott stopped. "That's the way you went," he pointed to where the path diverted off to the right.

"Not initially," Virgil told him. "I went left and then pushed through the bush to the track where you found me."

"I thought you might have done that," Scott said. "When we were kids playing hide 'n seek in the fields at our farm, I'd always find you. Until you realised that you could cut across from one path to another. You had me fooled a couple of times until I learnt your trick."

"Lucky you remembered it."

Scott didn't want to jeopardise the trust that had built up between them, so he didn't tell Virgil that it was technology and their father that had convinced him to go right. "Well you know what's that way, so we'll go left this time." He started off.

In places it was starting to get a bit muddy underfoot. A couple of times their feet slipped out from under them. It was nothing to cause them any concern, so they continued on, moving further inland.

"I haven't been up here in ages," Scott noted. "The last few storms have caused some damage to the track."

Indeed fast flowing water had gouged out a channel that followed the path for a few metres and then slid off into the undergrowth.

"We're not too far from the lookout," Scott said. "I hope we can reach it. It's quite a view, you can look down on the runway."

They rounded a bend in the path. The way ahead was blocked.

"Looks like we've had a bit of a mudslide," Scott said cheerfully.

... Mudslide! ...

"It looks stable enough to climb though." Oblivious, Scott scrambled to the top, turned and crouched down. "Let me help you," he stretched out his hand.

... She's asking for my help! She's reaching for me, but I can't reach her. ...

"Virgil?"

... She's so close, but I can't reach. If only I could get a couple of feet closer, maybe she could jump into my arms... I'd better call for help. ...

"Are you feeling alright, Virgil?" Concerned at how the colour was leaching from his brother's face, Scott leapt down off the top of the mudslide.

... She's fallen! I saw her fall! I couldn't help her! ... "NO!"

"Virgil! What's wrong?" Alarmed at his brother's sudden yell, Scott reached out for him. His touch seemed to awaken Virgil.

"S-Scott?"

"Are you alright? You're not in pain are you?"

"I saw her, Scott... I saw her fall!"

"Who? Virgil! You're shaking! What's wrong?"

"She was so young... Maybe seven or eight..."

"Who was?"

"She was crying, but I couldn't get to her..." A sheen of sweat appeared on Virgil's face.

"Who, Virgil?" Concerned, Scott put his arm about his brother's shoulders.

"She was standing on the tiniest ledge... The river... It was between us... Roaring..."

"Who? Where? Who are you talking about!"

"I couldn't reach... She saw me and knew I'd help her... And I couldn't..." Virgil's shaking increased alarmingly.

"Virgil?" Scott drew him into a comforting embrace. "It's okay." His brother trembled violently against him.

"She saw me and knew she'd be safe... I was International Rescue... I'd help her... She actually smiled at me, Scott."

Scott didn't know what he could say to comfort his brother.

"I-I was going to call you... I needed help..."

"What are you talking about?" Scott asked his voice filled with concern.

"I'd made contact with you..."

"Huh?"

"I was too late..."

The germ of realisation formed in Scott's brain. "At your last rescue?" Unable to do anything else, he rubbed Virgil's back comfortingly.

"The ground gave way... She fell... There was nothing I could do... I saw her face as she fell... It was saying 'You didn't save me!'... I saw her hit the rocks, the cliff, the ground...! She was like a rag doll...! She was only a child and I saw her die!" Virgil went into a spasm of emotion.

"I'm sorry, Virgil," Scott whispered. He hugged his brother close, half frightened, half trying to remain reassuring and in control. Surreptitiously he pushed a button on his watch. "It wasn't your fault."

"I had to get to her... in case I could still help... I started to run down the slip... My legs went out from under me and I starting slipping down... I was sliding...! I had no control...! I don't remember anything after..." He emitted a strangled sound. "I don't even know her name."

"Maria," Scott said softly. "Her name was Maria. The doctor said she died quickly. She wouldn't have suffered."

"I should have saved her!"

"You couldn't, Virgil. You did all you could."

"She was only a child."

"I know. Don't blame yourself."

"Why couldn't I save her? We saved other people?"

"You couldn't reach her. The ground was too unstable. It wasn't your fault."

"I want to go home."

Scott was worried about Virgil's state of health. His violent shaking had abated somewhat, but he was still pale, and was leaning heavily against his brother. "Why don't you sit down here for a bit? I'll call someone to come and give you a ride home."

"No," Virgil pushed himself away and stood unsteadily. "I'll walk."

"I don't think..." Scott started to say.

Virgil took a couple of faltering steps down the path and fell, landing on all fours.

Instantly Scott was by his side. "Are you okay? Relax. Someone will be here soon. We'll get you home."

Virgil sat back on his haunches. "No. I don't want help. I want to walk home. I want the fresh air."

"Just wait a bit, okay?" Scott asked. Then, with a degree of hesitancy, added, "Virgil?"

"What?" Virgil mumbled.

"Do you remember anything else?"

"Mmn?" Virgil appeared to have trouble focusing on Scott's words. "'Member?"

"Yeah. You seemed to remember your accident. Do you know what caused your amnesia?"

Virgil frowned. "No."

"Do you remember anything of your life before then?"

Virgil didn't appear to be listening.

"Please, Virgil," Scott begged, "This is important! Do you remember anything from before your accident?"

Virgil managed to shake his head.

"Do you remember your accident? Do you remember falling down the mudslide?"

Virgil whimpered, grimacing as if in pain.

"Virgil? Are you okay?" Scott forgot his other questions in the face of this more important one.

Virgil ran his hand over his eyes. "Headache," he gasped.

This was something that Scott could deal with. "How bad?"

"Bad. Pounding. Flashing lights. I want to lie down. Somewhere dark." Virgil laid his arm across his raised knee and rested his head on it.

Scott rubbed his brother's back reassuringly.

A short time later they heard the gentle hum of a motor. Astride a hoverbike and towing a hover-stretcher carriage, Brains rode into view.

Virgil managed to give Scott a baleful look. "You called him."

"I was worried."

Brains dismounted and rushed over. "What's w-wrong?"

"I'm not riding in that thing," Virgil muttered, his eyes tightly closed. "It's only a headache."

"A bad one," Scott amended. "You can't walk home."

"You'll help me."

"Even if I would, you wouldn't be able to make it. The path's too slippery and you can't even open your eyes. Come on, Virgil. You said you wanted to lie down. Here's your chance."

Brains was taking Virgil's pulse. "I-I'd be happier if you let us t-take you home, V-Virgil."

Virgil appeared to waver. "Only if you let me go to my room. I'm not going to the sickbay."

Scott glanced at Brains. It was a concession. They could continue the discussion back at the Villa.

Brains appeared to agree. "If you insist." He retired to turn the stretcher and hoverbike round.

Virgil squinted at Scott. "At least help me walk to the 'bike."

"Virgil..." Scott started to protest, but his brother was already attempting to stand. Sighing, he stood himself and grasped Virgil firmly about the waist. "Come on," he said gently.

Brains raised his eyebrows at Scott, who shrugged a 'what else could I do' reply.

Virgil didn't complain when they assisted him onto the stretcher carriage and closed the protective cover over him. Scott didn't know whether that was a good sign or a more ominous one.

With Scott riding shotgun on the back of the hoverbike, keeping a watchful eye on their patient, they made a smooth return to the Villa. They entered through a service entrance and took a lift upwards.

Up till now no one else was aware of the drama that had been unfolding. The doors from the lift opened to reveal a very surprised Jeff. Surprise quickly changed to concern when he saw the stretcher and it's occupant. "What happened?"

Virgil heard the voice. He opened his eyes a crack. "Are we there?" He fumbled with the cover of the carriage. "Let me out."

"We're not there yet," Scott told him. "So relax."

"H-He's got a headache," Brains explained to Jeff.

"A headache? Then why the stretcher?"

"It's that bad that he can't walk," Scott explained.

As if he were trying to prove his brother wrong, Virgil managed to swing the cover open and climb off the stretcher. He stood shakily and tried to look his father in the eye. "I'm alright. No one needs to worry about me..." his legs gave way and he would have collapsed onto the floor if Scott hadn't grabbed him.

Jeff stepped forward and grasped his ailing son from the other side. "Brains, go and get the sickbay ready. Scott and I'll bring him straight there."

"Y-Yes, Mr Tracy." Brains hurried away.

"Don't want to go to the sickbay," Virgil complained. "Take me to my room."

"No," Jeff said gruffly. "Not until we're sure it's nothing serious."

"Scott, you promised," Virgil pleaded.

"If there's one thing that I would have thought you would have learnt by now," Scott led the way sideways through door, "is that what our father says, goes."

Virgil closed his eyes again and resigned himself to being led to the infirmary...

Twenty Two  

Scott helped his father coax a still complaining Virgil onto a bed in the infirmary.

"W-What happened?" Brains asked as he took note of Virgil's vital signs. "Did he fall...?"

Virgil moaned.

Brains finished his question, "...or receive any blows to the head?"

"No," Scott said, his gaze on his brother who was lying prone on the bed with one arm across his eyes. "He seemed to be fine. There was some damage to the track so I went first to check it was safe. When I turned back he was as white as a sheet and seemed to be in some kind of trance."

Brains looked at him in interest.

"I jumped down and he 'woke up'... but he started talking about his last rescue... I think."

"What!" Jeff exclaimed.

"I think he was remembering what happened before he fell."

"A-And what was that?" Brains asked eagerly.

Scott hesitated. "He saw a girl die. He ran down the debris to help her and his legs went out from under him. Am I right, Virgil?"

The only reply from the bed was a moan.

An anguished looked crossed Scott's face and he took a step towards the door.

"Wait, Scott!" Jeff caught his arm. "What else happened?"

"Um... He was shaking..." Scott looked from his father to the scientist. "It was so violent it was almost like some kind of seizure. That stopped and he said he wanted to walk home, except he couldn't stand. That's when you arrived, Brains..."

"Did he remember anything else," Jeff demanded.

Scott shook his head sadly. "No. I asked him and he said he couldn't. It was obvious that he was in pain," his voice took on a distressed tone, "and I kept on pestering him. I had to know that he'd remembered. I wanted to know! I needed to know!" He looked over at the bed. "I'm sorry, Virgil. I'm really sorry... For everything!" Scott looked back at his father. "Can I go now?"

Jeff released his grip.

Scott escaped into the hall. Once there he stopped and braced himself against the wall. Things had been going so well. What had gone wrong?

Scott decided that he desperately needed some fresh air.

Gordon looked up from his magazine when his eldest brother walked into the lounge. "You're back early."

Scott didn't reply and carried on walking.

His Grandmother looked at his pale face and placed a hand on his arm, arresting his progress. "What's wrong, Darling?"

John put his book down. "And where's Virgil?"

"He's..." Scott swallowed. "Brains is checking him over. He had a bit of a turn."

"A bit of a turn? What do you mean?" Mrs Tracy asked in concern.

"It happened again, didn't it!" Tin-Tin exclaimed.

Scott nodded. "Only this time he's got a headache. We had to stretcher him home."

"Stretcher!" Gordon exclaimed. "For a headache? It must have been a whopper."

"Yeah," Scott said dully.

"It's not your fault, Scott," John told him.

"Isn't it?"

"Of course not!" John said with emphasis.

"Do you think we should tell Alan?" Gordon asked.

Grandma Tracy fretted over the suggestion. "And worry him unnecessarily?"

"We all know," Gordon reminded her. "It's not fair that he's left out of the loop." He initiated the video link.

"Mister Scott? Would you care for a drink of coffee?" Kyrano asked solicitously.

Scott nodded and allowed his grandmother to lead him to a comfortable seat.

"What happened?" John asked.

Scott gave them a brief overview of events, stopping only to thank Kyrano for the coffee. "Virgil saw Maria fall..."

"Who's Maria?" Gordon asked. "Do you mean Doctor Kershaw?"

"No. She was that little girl we found when we were looking for Virgil." Scott decided to gloss over the facts of her death, wanting to spare his Grandmother and Tin-Tin the gory details. "He ran down the mudslide to help her and fell himself."

"He remembered all this?" Mrs Tracy asked. "Can he remember...?"

"No. I asked him."

"How come he only remembers the bad stuff?" John asked no one in particular. "And not the things he likes?"

"He forgot us, so I guess that means he likes us," Gordon theorised.

Scott finished his tale by explaining about the trip back, with Brains, on the hoverbike.

"Virgil's had headaches before," Gordon noted. "Mainly since the accident."

"This one was a killer," Scott said. "What can cause amnesia and that kind of head pain?"

Alan had been listening in on the conversation via his portrait. "Brain tumour?" he asked quietly

At once the room went quiet as the horror of the thought sank in.

John eventually shook his head. "Brains has done scans. He would have picked something like that up..."

"What if it were some rare type that our equipment can't pick up?" Alan persisted.

Tin-Tin let out a strangled sound and her father put a comforting arm about her shoulders. "It is not possible," he said reassuringly.

"If you can't come up with something sensible, Alan, then don't say anything,' John snapped.

Alan lapsed into a sullen silence.

"Is it possible though?" Gordon asked.

"No!" John said emphatically, aware that Tin-Tin looked to be about to burst into tears.

The uncomfortable silence returned.

"It can't be that!" Scott said heatedly. "It's me! It's got to be! These things only happen when I'm around!"

"Scott!" John protested.

"It's not you..." Gordon tried to say.

"I'm..." Scott took a deep breath. "I'm going for a walk. Let me know if there's any news will you, John?" he indicated his watch, placed his mug on the table, stood and started walking towards the patio doors.

John was on his feet and after his older brother. "Scott! It's nothing to do with you!"

Scott turned back. "What other explanation is there?"

"I don't know, but come back and we'll talk about it. There must be something that triggers these attacks off..."

"There is. It's me!"

"No it's not, Scott. It can't be! It's not logical. The pair of you had a great night last night with no problems. You've been together..." John looked at his watch, "... about 15 hours and this thing's only just happened. It can't be you! Let's think about it..."

"I have been thinking about it, John. At nights I've been doing nothing but! And the only common factor I can find is me! There's no point going over it again!"

"But with our help. We're not so emotionally involved."

"Yes you are."

"But not in the same way. Please, Scott." John barred his brother's progress.

"John!" Scott said in frustration. "Has Virgil ever had an attack when you were present and I wasn't?"

"No, but..."

"Alan?" Scott asked his youngest brother's portrait.

"No," Alan said sheepishly.

"Grandma?"

"No, Darling, I've never seen one at all."

"Kyrano?"

"No, Mister Scott."

"Tin-Tin?"

She dabbed at her eyes, shaking her head at the same time.

"Gordon?" Scott turned to the redhead.

"There were his nightmares," Gordon suggested hopefully.

"They weren't the same thing," Scott said. "He was asleep then. Has Virgil ever had one of these attacks around you while I wasn't about?"

"No," Gordon said reluctantly.

Scott turned back to John. "See," he said. "It's me."

"I don't..."

"John! I'm going for a walk! Let me past!" Scott snapped. Then he softened his tone so he was pleading with his brother. "Please, John, let me go. I need the fresh air... I need to think."

John hesitated and then with obvious unwillingness stood to one side.

"Thanks," Scott said. "Promise me you'll call as soon as you hear anything?"

John gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Sure, Scott. Not a problem."

"Where are you going?" Grandma asked in concern.

"I... I don't know. Just for a walk I guess." Scott reached the door. "Don't worry about lunch for me, I'll grab something later." He disappeared outside.

John moved to the patio doors and watched Scott walk down the stairs and then take a path. "He's going down to the beach. Makes a change from the gym."

"I think he's past the gym stage," Gordon said. "He's really upset."

John turned from where he was watching Scott slouch morosely along the sands, and looked at his family and friends in the lounge. "I still say we can figure this out! There's got to be a pattern, something that doesn't involve Scott."

"But what?" Alan asked. "Do you have any ideas?"

"No," John admitted. "But let's look at this logically." He went to his father's desk and got out a pad and pen. "I'll bet we can solve this if we all work together."

"You've been reading too many mystery novels," Gordon commented as he pulled up a chair beside his elder brother.

John started off. "Right. How many attacks has Virgil had?" he asked.

Gordon thought a moment. "Are we counting the nightmares?"

"Not at the moment," John suggested. "I think Scott's right. They're different."

"In that case three," Gordon said.

"Three! Is that all?" Mrs Tracy asked. "The way you boys were carrying on I thought there must have been at least fifty."

John made three columns on the paper. "Where were they?"

Tin-Tin brought her chair closer. "Thunderbird Two, Thunderbird One and the runway lookout."

John headed each column with these titles. "Who was present?"

"Thunderbird Two was... Scott, you, me, Alan and Dad," Gordon remembered.

"Scott was showing him about," Alan supplied.

John wrote 'S, J, G, A, D'. "Thunderbird One?"

"Scott," Alan said.

A 'S' went on the pad. "And Scott was the only one with Virgil at the look out," John made the appropriate mark.

"So far, so bad," Gordon said.

"Well, we already knew all that," John said. "It's only the start." He thought a moment. "What was in the immediate surroundings?"

"Thunderbird Two's flight deck," Gordon said.

"Virgil's territory," Alan said. "It's pretty enclosed."

"Outside Thunderbird One's more open and has the 100 foot drop," Tin-Tin said.

"Yeah, but you're still inside a hangar," Gordon added. "It could be pretty claustrophobic, if you think you're not used to it."

John made some notes. "Anyone been up to the lookout lately?"

"No, but judging by Scott's description it's all mud, water and shrubbery. There's nothing in common there," Gordon said.

"So we've got two state of the art facilities and, you can't get anymore low tech than a dirt track," Alan said.

John sighed as he wrote. "What time did the attacks happen?"

"Afternoon, late morning, mid morning," Tin-Tin said.

John groaned. "We're getting nowhere, aren't we. What else can we compare?"

The thorough medical examination was over. The results suggested nothing ominous, or any cause of the debilitating headache.

Virgil lied and said he was feeling better. He felt an irresistible need to be in a place of relative familiarity, away from the cold sterility and antiseptic smells of the hospital wing of the complex. He insisted that he be allowed to return to his room.

His father's and Brains' expressions told him that they didn't believe him, but they didn't stop him.

Virgil didn't know how he managed to make his way back to his bedroom unaided. He was grateful to find that someone had already closed his curtains for him. With a groan he collapsed onto his bed and lay there willing his pounding head to cease its agonising rhythm.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to sleep, but failed. As his head pounded images floated in and out of his mind, renewed with each brain-strangling throb. Images that, behind his closed eyes, were as clear as the room he was lying in...

He saw the world flash past as he slid helplessly down the mudslide...

He saw Maria falling...

He was switching on his radio to call Scott...

Maria was reaching out for him...

He was climbing the rock fall...

He could hear a small voice calling for help...

He was talking to Scott at Mobile Control...

He was arriving at the danger zone...

He was flying out, in Thunderbird Two, from Tracy Island...

He was playing 'Moonlight Sonata' on the piano...

Other images formed and faded.

Successful rescues...

Unsuccessful rescues...

The first test flight of Thunderbird Two...

Seeing Tracy Island for the first time...

The memories came flooding back. Before International Rescue; his school years; his mother...

Denver University of Advanced Technology...

High School...

Family Outings...

Christmases past...

Birthdays - both his and his family and friends...

Ma's death.

At last Virgil slept.

Jeff and Brains remained in the infirmary after Virgil had left.

"Did you believe he was feeling better, Brains?" Jeff asked.

"N-No, Sir."

"Me neither," Jeff said with a reflective air. "Do you have ANY idea what's wrong?"

"N-No, Sir," Brains repeated. "...But it is worrying."

Jeff ran his hand over his face in a tired manner and suddenly Brains saw how much the strains of the past month were bearing down on his employer and friend. Jeff Tracy suddenly looked like an old man.

"I've, ah, d-drawn up a list of the things th-that I'm aware of that Virgil has forgotten." Brains timidly held out a clipboard to Jeff. "I-I've noticed a pattern."

Jeff didn't even look at the piece of paper in front of him. "They're all things that he cares about, one way or another, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"But I don't see how that knowledge helps us."

The scientist cleared his throat. He had something that he had to say, but didn't particularly want to say it. "M-Mr T-Tracy."

Jeff leant against a table and sighed wearily. "Yes, Brains."

"It's b-been over a m-month since Virgil g-got amnesia."

Jeff sighed again. "I know."

"A-And th-there's been no n-noticeable improvement."

"I know," Jeff repeated again.

Brains swallowed nervously. "H-Have you r-read the literature I-I gave you?"

Jeff looked at Brains sharply. "Yes!" he said succinctly.

Brains found he couldn't look at Jeff. "D-Do you th-think..."

"NO!" Jeff exploded. "You're saying I should book Virgil in for that treatment, aren't you?"

"I-It's an o-option."

"No it's not!" Jeff stormed. "It's inhumane! It's cruel! It's barbaric..."

"M-Mr Tracy..."

"It's mediaeval torture!"

"A-And it h-has worked in s-similar cases."

"I'm not putting him through that!" Jeff began to pace up and down.

"M-Mr Tracy. I a-agree that the t-treatment is h-harsh..."

Jeff snorted. "Harsh! Is that what you call it? I'd call it abuse!"

"It m-may b-be a cure," Brains protested.

"Which is worse than the disease!" Jeff snapped.

Brains took a breath. He hadn't seen Jeff this angry in a long time. "H-Have you r-read all of th-the information?"

"No! It was too sickening. Look, Brains. I respect your opinion, but that treatment is not an option. We can't risk International Rescue's security!"

"M-Mr Tra..."

"There are no guarantees!"

"Mr T-Tr..."

"I'm not about to waste my money on a load of quackery!"

"M-Mr Trac..."

"And I'm not going to put MY son through that punishment!"

"M-Mr Tracy," Brains was finally able to get a word in. "I-I understand. I-I feel the s-same. But, f-forgive m-me for s-saying this, it is n-not your d-d-decision... Or m-mine," he added quickly and then braced himself for the blast that he felt sure would come.

Instead Jeff stared at him intensely. "You mean Virgil should be the one to decide, don't you?" he eventually said in a quiet voice.

"Y-Yes, M-Mr Tracy."

"Why would he want to put himself through that?"

"P-People have chosen to u-undergo this treatment of th-their own free will. I-I don't pretend to kn-know what Virgil is g-going through. I-I can only im-magine what having amnesia is like. M-Maybe h-he will feel that the p-possible outcome is w-worth the sacrifice."

Jeff let his shoulders fall in defeat. "I don't want him to go through that," he said sadly. "But if he wants to I'll have to let him," he looked at his friend, "won't I?"

Brains felt his heart go out to this man who loved his son so much that he was torn between the need to protect him at all costs and the equally strong desire to help him. "Yes, Mr Tracy."

Jeff sighed. "I'll tell him when he's feeling better."

John dropped the pen onto the paper in frustration. "Scott, why didn't you stay and help!" he exclaimed into empty air. "We need you!"

"Maybe he's right," Alan said slowly. "Maybe he is the trigger."

"Shut up, Alan," John said. "I don't believe that."

"Why don't we add the nightmare into your chart?" Tin-Tin suggested. "Maybe there is a link."

"Okay," John added an extra column and headed it 'Nightmare'. "What do we know about it?"

"I don't know," Gordon admitted. "I didn't hear what it was."

"Virgil's falling beside a skeleton dressed in a white dress," Mrs Tracy told him.

"Huh?" Gordon stared at her. "Is it Virgil or the skeleton in the dress?"

"The skeleton," his Grandma said.

"Thank heavens for that."

"And the skeleton is asking him for help," Tin-Tin added.

"Weird," Gordon noted.

"Well?" John asked. "What's the link?"

"Uh," Gordon was stumped.

"Let's go through your criteria again," Alan suggested. "Who was present? No one, or Gordon."

"Or me," John added, depressed.

"And Scott was the only one able to stop it," Tin-Tin said. "That's got to be a positive, isn't it?" Then she sat up. "Wait a minute!"

Everyone looked at her in interest. "What?" Alan asked.

"Gordon!" she turned to his brother. "That girl that Scott said that Virgil said he saw fall. What was she wearing? Was it a dress?"

"I think so," he said.

"What colour?" Tin-Tin asked eagerly.

"I don't know," Gordon admitted. "I know it was covered in dust and dirt and blood and..." he looked at his grandmother, "...and stuff. It wasn't pretty."

"But was it originally white?" Tin-Tin pressed him.

"I didn't notice."

"But Virgil would," John said. "He'd notice the colour before anything else!"

"But how does that help?" Alan asked. "That could explain the dream, but it doesn't help us with Scott's problem."

They all lapsed into thought again.

"Maybe it's nothing physical that's the trigger," Tin-Tin suggested. "Maybe someone said something!"

"Such as?" Mrs Tracy asked.

"I don't know. I wasn't there..." Tin-Tin looked expectantly first at Gordon, then at Alan and then finally at John.

"Don't look at me," John reminded her. "I was on Thunderbird Five when the Thunderbird One episode happened."

"Well start with what we know," she insisted. "What was Scott saying up at the lookout?"

"I don't know," Alan said. "What was he saying?"

"We can surmise," Kyrano said quietly.

"Okay. Let's try that," John said. "I'll be Scott, Gordon you be Virgil."

"Thanks. Give me the pen and paper to get into character, or shall I go sit at the piano?"

John ignored him. "Scott was probably leading the way. What would he be saying?"

"'Follow me'?" Gordon suggested.

"You're Scott," Alan said. "You tell us."

John thought. "They're going up to the lookout. We saw how muddy Scott's clothes were. He'd be commenting on the state of the track, and telling Virgil to look out for himself."

"And Virgil would be listening," Gordon said.

"And then what?" Mrs Tracy asked.

"They come to the clearing and are faced with a blocked track, and Scott checks it out and decides it's safe to climb..." John said.

"Fine," Alan complained. "But what was he saying?"

John gave a small smile. "How about 'Be careful while you climb the mudslide'?"

They thought about what he said. "Makes sense," Gordon admitted. "Maybe that could jog a memory. But why would Scott say something like that when he's showing Virgil Thunderbird One? And we were there in Thunderbird Two. Nobody said anything remotely similar!"

"Oh," John slumped slightly.

Tin-Tin wasn't prepared to give up. "Maybe it doesn't have to be the same word. Maybe it's just a memory jogger of some kind. What was everyone saying in Thunderbird Two?"

"We'd got the testing seat and he was sitting in it," John remembered.

"And Scott was initiating the flight sequence," Alan added.

"And?" Tin-Tin asked impatiently.

The three Tracy men frowned as they thought.

"Nope!" John threw his hands up in exasperation. "I've gone blank. It seems a lifetime ago."

"It is as far as Virgil's concerned," Gordon noted.

"You said Mister Scott was initiating the flight sequence," Kyrano prompted. "What are the procedures?"

Gordon closed his eyes to visualise Thunderbird Two's control panel. "Turn it on..." his fingers flipped an imaginary switch. "Check everything's A-OK... Check the radar..."

"Then Scott leant across Virgil to..." John mimed the action.

Gordon's hand went out to the invisible switch. "Open the hangar door." He opened his eyes when his hand came in contact with Johns. They both hurriedly retracted their arms.

"And then Virgil jumped out of the seat as if something had bitten him," Alan said.

"That doesn't sound too promising," Grandma Tracy said.

"No..." John agreed. "Okay. Let's try Thunderbird One again."

"But none of us were there," Alan moaned.

"Virgil told me he had this sensation of falling," Gordon told them.

"I've had this," John said. "We need an informed opinion. I'm calling Scott." Before anyone could stop him he'd opened the link.

Scott's eager face appeared almost immediately in place of his portrait. "You've got news!"

Immediately John felt guilty. "Ah... no. We wanted your help."

Eagerness was replaced by disappointment tinged with curiosity. "Help?"

"We're trying to work out what's triggering Virgil's attacks."

"John!" Scott said in exasperation. "I told you! I've thought about this. The only link is me!"

"I don't believe that, Scott. We think we can..." John sentence faded away as Scott grew visibly angry. He shrunk back. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to help."

Gordon stood so that Scott could see him over the video link. "Humour him, Scott. He thinks he's the detective in one of his whodunit novels."

Scott checked his temper. "What do you want to know?"

"What did you say to Virgil up at the lookout?"

"I... I think I commented on the view... and the state of the track."

"Anything else?"

"I offered to help him up the mudslide."

John looked at his family. "Okay. That tallies with what we thought. What did you say to him at the time of the Thunderbird One attack?"

Scott thought. "He seemed happy. He was admiring Thunderbird One and asking questions about her stats and where the launch bay was. So I answered that. He said I must be a good pilot to be able to land her through the pool and I said we all could do it. He commented on how high Thunderbird One was, and I think I remember telling him to hang on to the guard rail so he wouldn't fall."

John appeared surprised. "Really?"

Scott nodded. "Really. And then he freaked out."

"Okay. Thanks." John thought about this for a moment and then decided to move onto another tack. "We think the nightmare's related to that little girl's accident."

"Maria," Scott reminded him. He thought for a moment. "That would make sense..."

"So what actually happened?" John asked.

Scott seemed reluctant to reply. "What he told me was pretty disjointed... It took me ages to realise what he was talking about..."

"Yes?" John prompted.

"She was standing on a ledge up the cliff..."

"And?" John prompted again.

"He... Virgil..." Scott grimaced. "He couldn't save her in time and saw her fall. Apparently she..." Scott cast about for the right word, "bounced against the cliff face a few times before she hit the ground..."

Tin-Tin gasped and Mrs Tracy emitted an "Oh, my!"

Scott heard them. He became angry again. "I thought you two were alone!"

"Ah, no," John admitted. "Everyone's here. Everyone except..."

"Leave it, John!" Scott interrupted. "You can't solve it because there's nothing to solve! Just count your blessings that your brother doesn't have a fit every time you're with him!"

"Scott..." John tried.

"I don't want to hear from you again, unless it's to tell me how Virgil is! Okay!"

"Okay," a severely chastened John said. "I won't call until..."

But Scott had signed off.

John rubbed at his face. "That was a mistake wasn't it? And I don't know that it really helped."

"We know a little bit more," Tin-Tin tried to reassure him.

"I guess. A reminder of falling may be a trigger too," John said.

"But no one said anything about falling in Thunderbird Two!" Gordon stated. "We're still no closer."

"I know!" Alan suddenly exclaimed.

"Know what?" Gordon asked.

"I bet I know what the Thunderbird Two trigger was!"

"Sure, Alan," John said, a lack of interest evident in his voice.

"I do!"

"Well don't hold it in," his Grandmother instructed him. "Spit it out, boy!"

"Scott said..." Alan paused for effect. "That the hangar door was hidden by the CLIFF face."

They stared at him as they rolled the phrase around in their minds.

"By George, I think he's got it," Gordon said in his best imitation of an upper crust English accent.

"Alan. You're brilliant!" Tin-Tin enthused.

Alan blushed.

John slowly looked up from the pad towards his youngest brother. "Alan," he said with feeling. "I take back every unpleasant thought I've had about you these last few days."

Alan smiled. "Thanks. Are you going to call Scott and tell him?"

John shook his head. "No."

"Why not!" Tin-Tin asked. "He'll be so pleased."

Mrs Tracy agreed with her grandson. "We'd be wise to make sure of our facts first."

"I want to run this past Brains and see if he thinks we're right," John explained.

Jeff Tracy chose that moment to enter the room. He was carrying a folder. "What are you all doing? Where's Scott?"

"He's gone for a walk," John said. "He needed some fresh air. How's Virgil?"

"Pretending that his headache's gone. He's gone back to his own room. I've just been in to check on him and he's sound asleep."

"So Brains is alone?" John asked eagerly.

"Yes he... What's going on?" Jeff asked as they all rushed for the door.

But they'd gone.

All except his mother, who had looked at her son, noticed his expression and pale colouring, and decided that her place was with him. "Are you alright, Jeff?"

"Me? I'm just dandy," he looked at her tiredly.

"You look like you could do with a nice hot cup of coffee."

"Sounds wonderful, Mother."

"Just you relax, Darling. I'll get one for you."

"Thanks..." Jeff watched her as she walked out the door. Then he slowly walked around to behind his desk and sat down.

He placed the folder on the desk and stared at it at moment before opening it. He felt sick as he read the opening paragraph...

Twenty Three  

When Virgil awoke he didn't know how long he'd been sleeping. Long enough for someone to come in a place a blanket over him. With relief he realised that his headache was gone.

He looked at his clock, which read 11.52. In the morning or evening he wasn't sure, so he threw off the blanket and went over to his window, drawing back the blinds.

Daylight.

It was morning.

He must have slept most of the day and all night. He realised that he hadn't been plagued by his nightmares. He realised that he was hungry.

Then Virgil realised something else.

He looked out the window again and the scene that greeted him was as familiar as an old friend.

Virgil looked round his room. Each object, each item of furniture had a name and an associated memory.

He sat down heavily on the window seat in stunned realisation.

He could remember!

Virgil tried testing himself. He tried to remember things that only he would know about, things that his family and friends would not know to tell him. He had no trouble recollecting a single memory.

With a growing sense of delight, he went into his studio and began flicking through his collection of paintings and drawings. Virgil could remember creating each picture as clearly as if it were yesterday.

When he came to the drawing of Tin-Tin he removed it so he could examine it closer. With pleasure he discovered that he was able to read the inscription: 'To Alan. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. With brotherly love. From Virgil.' He got a marker and dated the note, enjoying the sensation of knowing what to write and how to write it, and then carefully returned the picture to its place.

Then Virgil left his room and wandered down to the lounge. Only his father was there, reading some documents.

Jeff looked up and seemed almost startled to see his son standing there. "Oh, it's you! I thought you'd be asleep for longer than this. How's the head?"

"Better thanks. The headache's gone. How long was I asleep for?"

Jeff looked at his watch. "I'd say just on two hours."

"Is that all? I feel like it was for longer. I thought I'd slept for at least 24."

Jeff smiled and shook his head. "Grandma's just gone to get me a coffee. Would you like me to get her to bring you one too? It's nearly lunchtime."

"No. I'm fine, thanks. I'll wait for lunch. Where is everyone?"

"I'm not sure. They all took off when I came in as if I was infected with the plague. I think they've gone to talk with Brains."

"Oh," Virgil said.

"And I think Scott's gone for a walk. I'm pretty sure he blames himself for your headache."

"He does? Why? He wasn't talking that much."

"No. He believes that he's the cause of your, for want of a better word, attacks."

Virgil shook his head. "That's crazy!"

"I wish you'd tell him when he gets back."

"Don't worry. I think I've got some good news for him." Virgil gestured towards the piano. "I thought I might get in some practice before lunch. Do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind. I like hearing you play."

'You're going to love this then,' Virgil thought to himself. He sat down and ran through a set of scales to warm up. It felt good; it felt right. He started to play.

Jeff tried to read the contents of the dreaded folder again, but after a moment lifted his head to listen. "That sounds better than this morning. You're improving."

"Thanks." Virgil continued playing the same piece.

Jeff was still listening when his mother re-entered the room carrying his coffee and sugar on a tray. "Virgil's improved hasn't he?" he said to her. "I don't know this tune. It must be one he's made up..."

There was a gasp and Mrs Tracy dropped her tray.

"Mother!" Jeff exclaimed. He stood and rushed to her side. "Are you all right?"

She nodded dazedly.

"Then why did you drop the tray?"

"What's the matter with you, Jefferson, are you deaf?"

"Deaf? Mother, what are you talking about?"

"The music!"

Virgil grinned and gave his grandmother a wink.

"Huh," Jeff scratched his head in bewilderment.

"Don't you know what he's playing...? What your son is playing?"

"No? It sounds good but..."

"Sounds good! I'll say it 'sounds good'. He's playing 'It's All Coming Back To Me'. It was a popular tune when I was a girl. No one would have thought of playing it in the last few weeks." She turned back to Virgil. "Then does this mean..."

Virgil's grin broadened. "I never could pull the wool over your eyes, could I, Grandma."

"Grandma!" She placed her hand on her chest as if to steady her heart. "Did you hear him, Jeff? He called me Grandma."

Jeff's shock, as realisation dawned, appeared have a stupefying effect on him. He gazed at Virgil with his mouth slightly open.

"I remember," Virgil began, "when we were kids, you'd tell us off for staring at people like that. You said we'd catch flies in our mouths." He finished the piece with a flourish and beamed at his father and grandmother.

"He's right, Jeff." Mrs Tracy tapped her son under the chin.

This seemed to awaken Jeff out of his stupor. "You remember?" he breathed. "How much can you remember, Son?"

Virgil stood up and moved away from the piano towards his family. "Everything, I think... Father."

"Father..." Jeff took a step forward. "Did you call me Father? I can't believe this. I'm dreaming." He reached out for Virgil as if he had to reassure himself.

Virgil grasped his hand and held it tightly. Both men stayed that way briefly before Jeff pulled his son into an emotional embrace. "Welcome back, Virgil," he said tightly.

"It's good to be back, Father." Virgil was surprised at how good the hug felt. It brought back memories of good times. It brought a feeling of security that had been missing for the last few weeks.

After a full minute they broke apart.