The doctors couldn’t give him any definitive answers.
Virgil’s body had taken such a beating, between the injury and the infections, they couldn’t guarantee his brother had it in him to survive.
Scott’s spirit steeled at that. Virgil was one of the strongest people he knew. He was fit, he was healthy, he was as stubborn as the Thunderbird he flew.
And he had four brothers who dearly wanted to see him fly her again.
International Rescue shut down its services for an indefinite amount of time. The world complained, but Scott didn’t have the ears for it.
He spent his days beside his fallen brother, attempting to give him what he could in his fight.
But no matter what he did, Virgil lay there waxen and drawn, not waking, not reacting.
Now there was talk of maybe he would never wake up.
Gordon ended up yelling at the doctor and had to be restrained, Scott pulling him back into his arms, desperately trying to give what little comfort he could.
Alan looked like a ghost, there but not.
John disappeared into research desperately looking for something that might help.
And Scott…Scott wept when no one was looking. Dropped his forehead onto his brother’s and pleaded with him to come back. Please, Virgil. Please.