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[personal profile] heavy_lifting

Boy, what a rescue that had been. It had started off well enough, but a wrong decision had caused one hell of a chain reaction. They'd managed in the end, but to say it hadn't gone according to plan was an underestimate. Not that it was anyone's fault, Scott's call had been based on what they knew, which hadn't been, admittedly, a lot. No blame had been laid, but it was obvious one eldest brother was taking it anyway and Virgil was pretty sure it was bothering far more than he was being willing to admit.

If there ever was a time Virgil wished he'd been able to have a head start home, it was that night. He didn't even bother to change when he pulled into the hanger, choosing to look for Scott instead.

He wasn't anywhere to be found in the Villa, however. Confused, Virgil finally ended up down in Thunderbird 1's hanger.

Ah ha.

Scott had apparently only got as far as disembarking Thunderbird 1 and no further. There he was sitting on the upper walkway, legs danging over the edge, while his hands held the bars of the railing, staring out at his 'bird silently.

He didn't say a word to Scott, he just grabbed the railing and plopped himself right down beside his oldest brother. He sat there silently with him for more than a few long moments, before Virgil finally looked over. Scott hadn't budged, forehead resting against one of his hands. His gaze seemed so far away. Normally he'd have just kept his brother company, silently, but something felt different tonight.

Stretching out his arm, he rested it over his brother's shoulders.

"Scott...?"

And... nothing. Scott didn't respond, at first, but after a moment, he noticed a tremble through his brother.

"...Virg..."

Without a moments hesitation, Virgil pulled him closer and Scott came willingly, head resting right on Virgil's shoulder. The younger brother swore he could almost feel the weight on his brother's shoulders. The look on his face... there was far more going on here, wasn't there? How much weight was his brother holding?

"Let me take some of that weight you've got there," Virgil said softly to him, squeezing his shoulder gently and reaching up around his brother's head, trying to ease him a little closer.

Scott isn't someone who cries. The amount of times Virgil's seen his brother even look misty eye'd, he could probably entirely count on one hand. That's why it really catches his attention when he swears he sees something glisten in his brother's lashes.

"Talk to me, Scott. What's wrong?" He finally questioned, feeling that it's time he did press.

For a moment, he felt his brother sag more against him. For a moment, it seemed like Scott might be about to spill the beans. Instead his brother latched onto his arm and pulled it away.

"Just... stressed and tired. Nothing a good sleep won't fix," he was told, as Scott pulled away and straightened. Whatever he'd seen in his brother's eyes was gone. "Sorry to worry you, Virgil."

Before he could even utter the word 'bullshit', Scott was getting back to his feet, hand resting a moment on Virgil's shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Get some sleep too."

And then he was gone. He'd escaped. Virgil found himself alone, a scowl forming as he stared in the direction Scott had left in.

"What the hell was that?" Virgil muttered to himself, getting back to his feet himself. He knew what he'd seen. There was something brewing, boiling even, inside that brother of his, and he certainly could have a few guesses over what. How long had he been masking it? Virgil, try as he might, couldn't even think of a time he'd noticed something off, and it bothered him endlessly. When had he suddenly been unable to read his brother?

At least now he knew. Now he just had to figure out how to get outta Scott what was going on before those metaphorical cracks gave way.
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Virgil Tracy

June 2017

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