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gumnut-logic · 4 years

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The Tattoo (Part Five)

Thank you all so much for your wonderful support for this fic. It’s bouncing along and you guys are encouraging me so much ::hugs you all::

This fic is all @vegetacide ‘s fault :P

Many thanks to @scribbles97 @i-am-chidorixblossom and @vegetacide for all the plot help and reading :D

I hope you enjoy this part :D

-o-o-o-

Virgil hated medication. Hated it with a violent passion. It messed with everything. Made him dumb, stupid and out of control. And the fog. The post-medication fog was almost as bad as whatever injury he was trying to hide from.

This time was no different. His head was full of cotton wool and it was hard to put two thoughts together.

He knew he was in the infirmary. The crinkle of plastic cotton sheets gave that away. That and the smell. Grandma kept this place clean the old-fashioned way – antiseptic and scrubbing brushes. The fact MAX, one of the most technologically advanced AIs on the planet, often helped her do the cleaning was an oxymoron, but what worked did the job as far as she was concerned.

As usual, he made the same mistake he always made in this situation and tried to move.

He couldn’t help the groan as his arm complained.

“Virg?”

Gordon.

A slow blink and the orange of his little brother’s shirt wobbled into focus. “Gords?”

“Hey, Virg. How are you feeling?”

A grunt and a few more neurons came online. Apparently, apart from some stiffness, only his arm was giving him trouble.

And his head.

Damn fog.

“Been worse.” He focussed on his brother’s face and frowned. “Are you okay?” Gordon’s eyes were red rimmed and strained, his face pale. It was so unlike his little brother’s usual demeanour, alarm bells started ringing and the fog was shoved aside as much as possible. “Gordon, talk to me.” He shoved his good arm under and pushed himself up.

Gordon reacted immediately, shooting up out of his seat and attempting to usher Virgil to lie back on the bed. “Hey, relax, Virgil. I’m f-fine.”

But his sunshine brother’s voice cracked on the last word and Gordon, the brightest ray of light amongst his brothers, WASP agent, survivor, tough as nails IR operative, had a tremble in his voice.

What the hell?

Virgil made vertical, Gordon’s hands attempting to both help and hinder. The world spun for a few long moments, but he was more worried about Gordon. “What’s wrong?”

“Damn it, Virgil, Grandma’s going to kill me if you hurt yourself.”

A breath. “I’m fine.” Focus. He threw off the covers and swung his legs around so he could sit without falling over. His arm was strapped to his bare chest.

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Shit.

Gordon was looking at him with worried eyes. “I can explain.” The words fell from his mouth.

His brother had his hand on Virgil’s good arm. “Virg, please lie down. Grandma’s angry enough already.”

“What?” Damn the fog!

And Gordon was hugging him.

Ever so gently, his arms, so much wirier but no less athletic, seemed so small to Virgil. They always had. Emphasis on the words ‘little brother’.

Virgil’s one good arm returned the embrace as best he could. “Gords, what is it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“What? Gords, I don’t have the brainpower, or the coffee, for a guessing game.” Ugh, medication meant no coffee allowed, damnit!

Gordon stepped back and despite all the aquanaut’s years of experience and full adulthood, all Virgil could see was that scared kid who had lost his remaining parent in a fireball all those years ago.

He grabbed his little brother’s arm. “Gordon, talk to me.”

Strained carnelian eyes. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Your tattoo.”

A swallow. “Because I needed to.” It had been a dark time.

There had been too many dark times.

Gordon’s eyes were focussed on Virgil’s shoulder, now swathed in bandages, likely hiding most of his tally.

“But Cass…”

Virgil’s heart froze. Pain far too recent to face. He couldn’t go there. Not yet.

No, please, not yet.

“It was Dad. And Mom. I…I wanted to acknowledge them. I needed them...with me.” How the hell did he explain it?

How did he explain the gaping holes they had left behind that he could not fill? Their ghosts haunted him in the deep of night. They hovered at the edge of his perception, taunting at being there, but when he turned, they were just as gone as they actually were.

Cass smiled at him in his dreams, his list of unfulfilled promises in her beautiful eyes.

“It helps.” A reminder of reality.

“But all those other dates?”

“A reminder. To try harder. To acknowledge their loss.”

“But-“

“It is my choice, Gordon. It does what I need it to do.”

His brother’s expression altered just a little, resignation creeping in. But then… “I have a book.” It was a whispered admission.

Blink. “What?”

Gordon straightened just a little. “I have a book. With names. Notes. What I remember about them. The ones I couldn’t help.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Gords…” His hand tightened around his brother’s arm.

The aquanaut looked up at him. “I do understand. Perhaps not the medium. But…yeah.” He looked away and sighed. “Dad’s pissed.”

Oh, shit.

“He and Scott had a showdown like I have never seen. It’s like Dad expected Scott to look after us. Like we aren’t adults. Like it was his responsibility.” Gordon’s lips thinned. “And Grandma…hell, Virg.”

And there was the source of the strain in his brother’s eyes. Family could hurt like no other.

“Help me up.” Virgil shuffled to the edge of the bed.

“Oh, god, hell no, Virg. Grandma will have your ass.” He floundered in an attempt to stop Virgil from climbing off the bed.

“Well, apparently, she already has everyone else’s, so I’ll just add it to her collection.” His feet hit the floor and he wobbled. But a little more spine and he was fully upright, still dressed in his grubby jeans.

The remains of his shirt lay on a chair in the corner. A few unsteady steps and he grabbed it. With his arm strapped up, it would be enough to hide his shame.

“Virg, don’t do this.”

“Could you please help me with my shirt?”

His brother sighed. “Damnit, Virgil, Grandma, Dad and Scott are all going to kill me for this.”

“Not your fault.” He fumbled with flannel and the material slipped from his fingers to fall to the floor. For the love of…!

But Gordon was there. His hands picked up the shirt and draped it across Virgil’s shoulders, helping him into the one remaining sleeve and buttoning it up to hold it in place best the ruined piece of clothing could do.

“Thanks, Gordon.”

His brother was not impressed. “You can put that on my headstone.”

“This is not on you.”

“It’s not on Scott either, but that doesn’t seem to matter.”

Virgil straightened as best he could. “I’ll fix it.”

“Virg-“

A hand on his brother’s shoulder, he tipped his head down a little for emphasis, grabbing his brother’s eyes with his own. “I’ll fix it.”

Gordon still wasn’t happy, but he put his hand over Virgil’s for just a moment. “I’m coming, too. Even if all I can do is prevent you from falling on your face. I’m dead either way, anyway.”

“This is not on you.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Virgil sighed, let his hand drop and turned towards the door.

Steps a little wonky, he went looking for the rest of his family.

To kick his own share of asses.

-o-o-o-

End Part Five

Part Six

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy

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