Okay
Have a little FishTank with a background of pissed off Scotty.
Many thanks to the amazing @onereyofstarlight for all her help on this and for putting up with my crazy as usual :D
It was supposed to be something and this is what happened. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
-o-o-o-
Virgil rolled his shoulders as he stepped out of the elevator and into the comms room. He wasn’t surprised to find Scott’s commander persona firmly and concisely flaying someone via hologram at the main desk. Virgil had no doubt that several heads would roll after this incident.
But he would field Scott later. Besides it was fair to let the person responsible reap their rewards.
A pissed off Commander Scott Tracy was a weapon of precise destruction.
For the moment, Virgil had two aims. He rolled his shoulders again. Maybe three. Some paracetamol wouldn’t hurt alongside the coffee.
Both would be needed to tackle his main priority.
His little brother Gordon.
Those four words made it hurt even more.
Because Gordon was his little brother and when some asshole threatened the Fish - no matter how adult his brother would ever be, he would always be their Little Fish - and then had the nerve to physically assault Gordon…
Virgil beat down his anger. Anger wasn’t what he needed right now. Scott had enough to cover the entire family and then some. What Virgil needed was to be calm and centred so he could be there for Gords.
Because despite having the military background, the tough exterior, and a strength of will that continued to stun Virgil with its ferocity, Gordon was…
Hell, he was Virgil’s little brother and while Scott eviscerated those responsible, Virgil had to make sure he was okay.
Beyond the obvious physical injuries.
The anger had to be stomped on again.
He jogged down the kitchen stairs and grabbed the paracetamol out of the medical kit stashed under the sink. He chugged it down with some coffee, probably hotter than it should be for the meds, but he needed both so that’s what he worked with.
Gords was lying on one of the loungers by the pool. It was odd to see him out there but not actually in the water. The sling holding a broken arm, the concussion, and black eye, hidden by convenient sunglasses, were reason enough.
As with all of Gordon’s injuries in the field, Virgil was fully prepared to find a way to enable his brother to get back into the pool as soon as possible.
It was a survival instinct, after all. A Fish out of water tended to be flammable and explosive - Virgil liked their villa in one piece and minus the pranks born of boredom or frustration.
But it would be a couple of days at least before Gordon could be let into the pool this time. The broken arm was fine, it was the head injuries that weren’t conducive to swimming.
Virgil stared out at his little brother a moment while downing the remains of his coffee. Food was likely out of the question, but Gords might be able to manage a light drink, get some simple sugars and energy into him.
Turning back to the kitchen, he rustled up some tropical fruit juices, coconut cream and ice, dropping a splash of cranberry into the mostly yellow and orange concoction. A small smile and Virgil dug out one of his brother’s little cocktail umbrellas to give it the Gordon-pizazz it required.
He even made one for himself, put both of them on a tray, along with a small bowl of brightly coloured barley sugars.
Holding the tray steady, Virgil stepped softly out onto the patio and bee-lined casually in his brother’s direction.
The dark sunglasses glanced up. “Virg, I’m fine.”
Virgil ignored him, sliding the tray onto the small table next to Gordon. Not saying anything at all, Virgil grabbed the nearest empty lounger and dragged it over, dumping himself into it with a sigh.
He claimed his drink and fiddled with the umbrella. They reminded him of his fish brother, they really did.
And the drink was cool on his coffee-blasted throat.
Nothing was said for a long moment.
“Scott toasting the GDF?” Gordon didn’t even look at Virgil.
“More like roasting, after skinning and gutting.”
“Perhaps we should put warning labels on our uniforms. Warning: Commander will go medieval on your ass if you ever lay a finger on any member of International Rescue.”
“Family.”
Gordon groaned. “Way to serious a perfectly good pun, bro.”
Virgil shrugged and his shoulders ached. “It was a serious incident.”
“Yeah.” The word was mostly breath and ever so resigned. His brother looked away, out towards the sea.
“How are you feeling?”
A sigh. “As I said, I’m fine.”
Virgil sipped at his drink. “You don’t look fine.”
Gordon shifted where he sat. “What do you expect?”
“No expectations.”
His brother scoffed and turned back to looking at the ocean. There was nothing but breeze, birds and the waves for a very long moment.
“No, I didn’t expect it all.”
“Expect what?”
“The good guy to be such an asshole.”
Virgil didn’t comment, sipping his drink and waiting…
“They are supposed to help us. Supposed to be us. I didn’t expect him to do that. I would never put my life above so many. I’m in this because I believe in what we do!” Gordon’s uninjured arm was pointing and gesticulating not unlike their biggest brother inside. Virgil was often struck by how Scott and Gordon were so similar, yet so different. “We are the ones with the skills, the equipment and the vow to do everything we can to help people out of dangerous situations. There were families, Virg! Little kids! And he was willing to sacrifice them all.”
“You did good, Gords, you know that.”
“I should have done better.” Gordon’s good hand balled into a fist. “I should have seen it coming. Should have seen beyond the uniform. Should have hit him harder!”
Virgil turned on the lounger and let his feet touch the concrete so he could reach over and place a hand on Gordon’s leg. “You did everything you possibly could. None of us expected betrayal, much less from the GDF.” He drew in a breath. “It will be fixed.”
Gordon scoffed. “Of course, it will be fixed. With both Scott and John on their asses, they’ll be lucky there is any GDF left by the time they’re finished.” Gordon wilted just a little. “I hate it when you guys have to do that. Scott doesn’t need any more grey hairs, and Johnny shouldn’t have to skirt the law. I should have handled it better.”
Virgil stared at his little brother. “What John does with the law is not your responsibility.” Though Virgil would need to check on his space brother. John was as pissed as Scott. Maybe they should have a movie night tonight with all the junk food to go with it. Drag John down, corner Scott, and get the lot of them to sit down and take a breather. A few hugs would definitely not go astray either. Some reassurance that Gords was still here. “And Scott is going to kick ass regardless. That GDF officer had no right to intervene on our rescue and then to put his life above all the others he was meant to save…” Virgil let the sentence hang and he fought down his rage and outrage again. He swallowed. “You did what you always do, Gordon.” His eyes latched onto those dark sunglasses. “You did us proud.”
The sunglasses stared at him a moment. “You okay?”
“I will be.” Once his brothers were okay.
“Virg?”
Virgil slid off the lounger and onto his knees, holding his arms out a little. “C’mere.”
Gordon rolled his eyes, but smiled as Virgil enveloped him in a hug.
It was for Virgil as much as Gordon.
To find a GDF officer on the train carriage had been a blessing at first. The man had taken charge, liaised with IR, and set people at ease. But once IR made it onto the scene and Gordon, and the rescue rig, arrived to start getting people out, the man has changed.
Sure, it was a perilous situation and yes, the train could have dropped any moment despite Two securing it with grapples. But nothing excused the man’s conduct.
He had thrown fellow passengers aside and demanded to be rescued first. Gordon, of course, said no. IR had its priorities and not only was the man a trained GDF officer, but fit and healthy, and, if the emergency became more dire, he would be more likely to survive a more physical rescue attempt. Unlike the elderly and the children on that train.
And hell, the man had taken a pledge to serve and protect.
None of them had expected anger from the man, much less physical violence. He grappled with Gordon, determined to board the rescue rig first.
Gordon was well trained and an expert in self defence. However, the dynamics changed when you were hanging over an empty chasm that ended in certain death.
Gordon was thrown from the train and it was one of the worst moments in Virgil’s life. Yes, his brother was tethered, thank god, but the carriage was precarious, moving with the sudden change in weight distribution, and tangling with the safety line. Both Gordon and the rig had been dragged down with the train, forcing Two to compensate. Alerts screamed as the grapples securing the carriage strained with the sudden shift.
Virgil’s voice still ached from his yelling his brother’s name.
And the lack of an answer.
It had been Virgil who shimmied down the rescue rig cable, desperate to locate Gordon with John worrying in his ears.
He had found his brother upside down with a massive dent in the side of his helmet, faceplate cracked, unconscious.
Virgil retrieved and secured him in the rescue rig.
Then it was Virgil who had to face the rogue GDF officer. Virgil, who was considered the gentle giant who wouldn’t hurt a soul.
Virgil, who physically picked up the yelling man and, despite his struggles, strapped him into the rescue rig in a very specific unable-to-move way. Hence the aching shoulders and the bruises.
Twenty people were rescued from that train, the very last barely making it out as gravity and wind finally took their toll and John was forced to release Two, or lose them all.
Most of them were injured in some way, but none as much as his little brother.
The GDF officer spent the rest of the ride strapped in the rescue rig in Module Two.
Virgil managed to not say a single word to the man the entire time.
Gordon woke up swearing, halfway to the hospital, and didn’t let up until the doctors let him go under Virgil’s supervision several hours later.
Debrief had been explosive. Scott livid, John tight lipped and furious, Virgil…
He pulled his little brother in just that little bit tighter.
“Oof, Virg, I’m okay.” But Gordon didn’t let go.
Virgil released him a little, but rested his head on his brother’s non-injured shoulder and closed his eyes.
And tried to convince himself of Gordon’s words.
-o-o-o-
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