Tick Tock (continued again)

From here

The hiss of the ventilator hurt.

It was a rhythmic sound, something no doubt Virgil would be able to sense, perhaps even create some music to, but to Scott, it just screamed pain.

Virgil couldn’t breathe on his own. There was concern that he soon wouldn’t be able to do anything on his own and he would die.

Why?

They didn’t know.

Scott had clung to the hospital having the answers. He was only a paramedic, doctors knew so much more.

But they didn’t know.

He had sent Gordon back to TB2, to return her home and gather the rest of the family in Tracy Two. John had declined to come down just yet. He wanted the power of Thunderbird Five to support his sudden research into the causes of paralysis.

Grandma sat under his arm, her head on his shoulder, her expression lost as she stared at her dying grandson.

Yes, dying. There was no denying it, just futile rage against it.

And the lack of reason was pure torture.

His medical history had been scoured. And what a history it was. The doctor had many questions.

What had his brother eaten in the last week? Considering how busy they had been, Scott figured the better question would have been ‘Has your brother eaten in the last week?’ Not that Virgil ever had any trouble eating, he had a healthy appetite, but time, there had been so little time.

Where has Virgil been in the last week or so? Had he travelled internationally at all? Scott was so tired he actually burst out laughing at that question. Grandma had wrapped her arms around him as the laughter had nearly turned into tears.

In the last week, Virgil had landed on every continent with the exception of Antartica. Though, he had been there the week before to assist the US Airforce at McMurdo. As Scott listed off the sites of the rescues his brother had attended, it sunk in exactly how much work Virgil had been buried under. Sure Scott had been along side him on many of them, as had their brothers, but Virgil was so integral to IR’s operation that, bar a space exclusive rescue, he was on site for almost every event. And if he wasn’t, it was because he was attending another site at the time.

Scott ran his hands through his hair. International Rescue was stretched thin, and this was the result. What the hell had he done? What would Dad have done? Was this his fault?

“It’s not your fault, Scott.”

He dropped his elbows to the side of the bed, his head into his hands. “How can you know that, Grandma?”

“Because it isn’t.” And her arms were around him again, her head against his shoulder. As always he was a little stunned by how physically small his grandmother was. Her personality was so strong, so vibrant, it out shone her size. He had shot up above her at fourteen, but she still seemed larger than him.

He still looked up to her.

“Grandma, I…” And he scrunched his eyes shut as his throat caught. “I can’t lose him.” The breath he dragged in strangled him. “I can’t.”

The arms around him tightened, but there were no words of reassurance.

There were none to be had.

-o-o-o-

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