Fiction Post

The bed was new, he could feel that stiff, new feeling mattresses had. All the walls were bright and shiny and the smell of paint lingered on the edges. There was a table set against the wall with a jug of water on it.

He was covered in bandages too, the worst of the knife-work now treated. Scott still felt like one giant bruise and he knew that his broken leg would probably need more than just a cast. Not that it felt like the leg had been….

Huh. Only the visible wounds had been treated…

Something was going to happen. And it wasn’t going to be good.

For the next few days he drifted in and out of consciousness as his injuries healed and various nurses and doctors treated him. Scott had once woken to the sound of people arguing, but he’d been too out of it to understand, but the next time he’d woken up his leg had been set and put into a cast.

Every time he woke up he was conscious a little longer than before. He was laden with IVs and as soon as he was more capable of thought the first thing he’d done was to tear them out.

So now he was cuffed to the bed rails. Even when asleep he was cuffed. It was the most uncomfortable position.

But it wasn’t until he’d been able to stay awake solidly for more than four hours that he was paid a visit by a person that wasn’t a medic.

That person was new to him in person, but he knew who she was. He’d seen her on the news. His knowledge must have shown on his face and his surprise even more so when he was greeted with perfect English with just the barest trace of an accent.

‘My name is Stabshauptmannn Koch.’

Scott just stared at her. He dearly wished his hands were free so he could cross his arms so he looked as defiant as he felt because he was sure he didn’t come across like that at all. The merest glimmer of a smile flitted across the woman’s face before she straightened up.

‘Prepare yourself, First Lieutenant Tracy. My superior is about to arrive. It would be best if you are respectful.’ ‘Best for whom?’ ‘Best for you. And your father.’

His heart stuttering in his chest made the monitors scream and it took an enormous effort to get his breathing under control. All the while the woman just stood there.

There must have been some kind of signal that Scott had not been privy to, for the woman smartly sidestepped twice and held a crisp salute as the door opened. Two people entered, both wearing Bereznik uniforms with high ranking showing.

One he knew. His torturer leered at him but he wiped the smirk off his face at Scott’s raised eyebrow when the man he was standing behind paused and made as if to turn. He didn’t complete the turn, however, stopping to acknowledge the salute of the young woman before turning back to Scott. Who filed that piece of information away for later contemplation.

‘I am Generaloberst Koch, Oberleutnant Tracy.’ ‘Generaloberst.’ ‘As you can imagine, I am a very busy man, Oberleutnant. I do not have time for you, your nation nor the petty demands of the World Government.’

Scott held his tongue. He wanted to scream at the man that if Bereznik hadn’t attacked Poland and annexed almost the entire country then none of this would have happened, but the mention of his father had him bite the retort back.

‘You, Oberleutnant Tracy, are a spy. Shot down over the sovereign territory of Bereznik after landing in a small town and stealing secrets.’ ‘Wha-What?’

The man sighed at the interruption and inclined his head. As quick as a flash the other man was across the room and Scott’s head was ringing from a resounding blow. Once he’d recovered his hearing it was to notice anger clear on the Colonel-General’s face. He was furiously berating the Major and Scott was impressed that he didn’t raise his voice despite the anger. The Major took the dressing down but as his eyes slid to his Scott knew that, given half a chance, he’d be bearing the brunt of that.

A clearing of his throat and the Colonel-General turned back to face him. The man was carved from ice, Scott thought, no trace of emotion could be seen on him.

‘As I was saying. As you are a spy you are to stand trial in the capital. You are here to get well enough to stand trial. Once you are fit enough to travel you will stand trial for the world to see how Bereznik deals with spies.’

The man turned, saluted the Stabshauptmannn and left. The Major, with one last hate-filled look at Scott, marched after him, but Koch stayed where she was.

Scott thought carefully over the next couple of hours. It would kill his father to see him paraded around as a political prisoner and on trial. Everyone knew that Bereznik wasn’t merciful, they had executed their own people for far less crimes.

If they weren’t going to transport him until he was well, then he had to remain as he was. He couldn’t get to the IVs anymore, but he could and would do whatever it took.

Stabshauptmannn Koch stayed in his room almost the entire time. There were three others who rotated out with her, all very lower rank officers, but Koch was there almost all the time.

Two days after the visit the medics considered that he was well enough to be started on some real food alongside the nutrient IV. And Scott made his decision.

Every piece of food was refused. Every cup of water. Everything even remotely food orientated denied.

At first the doctors and nurses were unconcerned. It wasn’t that uncommon for prisoners to refuse sustenance, but once they realised they weren’t getting better they usually gave in. No one went on hunger strike any more, it was a totally ineffective method of communication. Given enough time they were positive this man would be no different.

They were wrong.

As Scott continued to refuse he could see the sense of alarm turn to panic among the medical staff. Even the ever-stoic Koch was starting to look concerned – although that could have been wishful thinking on Scott’s part.

He was getting weaker, he knew this. The nutrient drips would only go so far, he hoped, although Scott knew they would keep them alive at the very least. He was gambling that they wouldn’t “waste” good nutrients on him, but he knew it was a big risk.

Sleep wasn’t easy now. All his aches and pains were far more pronounced, and a bone-tiredness was seeping into him. All he wanted to do was sleep but it didn’t come. On occasion he drifted but that was about it.

Sometimes he dreamed his father was there beside him, a hand on his arm and warm breath on the side of his face. He never spoke but when Scott was at his lowest the hallucination brought him comfort.

And then one day the Major was back.

Fury was clear on his face as he took in Scott’s weaken condition. Scott thought back to the angry conversation the Generalobers had had with him and while his memory was very patchy now he could see that if anything prevented the Generalobers from getting what he wanted it would be the Major that would be held accountable.

Scott looked the Major dead in the eye and laughed.

He laughed weakly, but he laughed and laughed and laughed until he was choking on dryness and the observation machines were screaming.

The last thing he was conscious of was that fleeting glimmer of a smile on Koch’s face.

When Scott woke up it was different. He was no longer in his bed but was sat up in a chair, hands no longer cuffed.. In other circumstances it would have been called an easy chair, but Scott was anything but easy in it.

The Major stood before him and the three other officers who guarded him were either side of them. Interestingly enough Koch wasn’t there, and Scott wondered why that was the case…

‘You will be fit to face trial, Oberleutenant.’

But Scott just stared at him. He didn’t have the energy to argue and he knew it would be pointless anyway. The Major would do whatever he wanted to – he always had – and all Scott could do was steel himself mentally for what was about to happen.

So far the medical team had tried their hardest to persuade him to eat verbally but, other than not remove his nutritional drip, had done nothing else. The leer on the Major’s face told Scott that that was about to change.

‘The Generaloberst wants you fit to stand trial and I will make sure you are. Hold him.’

The three men moved, one for each arm and the last one moved behind Scott, hooking one arm around Scott’s throat and forcing his head back a little and holding it in place. Scott was powerless to stop them, and all he could do was watch with wide eyes as the Major strode across the room and picked something up off the table.

It was a pipe. And a funnel.

Scott struggled hard but was held tightly, handholds so tight they would leave livid bruising. The Major grabbed his cheeks and squeezed hard until Scott had no choice but to open his mouth. He choked hard as the pipe was forced down his throat.

It wasn’t a long procedure but if felt to Scott that it had taken forever, and his throat was raw and hurting, like he’d swallowed glass. He gagged several times but nothing he did made them stop.

The Major hadn’t finished, though. Without letting go of his cheeks, the man fit the funnel onto the end of the pipe and poured a pale creamy liquid through. Scott could feel the coldness as the liquid went down. Eventually the whole bottle was emptied. His stomach rebelled and he tried to throw up again but the tube wasn’t allowing that to happen.

But it wasn’t quite over yet.

The man still stood over Scott and his leer turned into a wide smirk. And while Scott knew what was coming he also knew he had no way to stop or brace against it.

The tube was roughly yanked from him and Scott coughed, bringing up bile, blood and some of whatever that fluid had been. He watched through tears as the tube was thrown into the clinical waste bin.

He was still coughing and retching when his room door flew open and Stabshauptmannn Koch stormed in, fury clear on her face.

‘What is going on here?’ ‘Nothing you need to worry about, Stabshauptmannn Koch.’ ‘Nothing? Look at the state of the prisoner! This is not what Generaloberst Koch wants! Fit to stand trial, Major. I will be having words.’

She took in the position of the three men still around Scott and her frown deepened.

‘Gentlemen, you are all to leave this room and not return. Oberleutenant Tracy is now under my direct protection.’ ‘You cannot do that, Generaloberst left him under my command.’

Koch drew herself up. Absentmindedly Scott noticed that she was a tall woman, almost as tall as the Major and in no way was she intimidated by him.

‘You forget yourself, Major. I outrank you and I assure you that Generaloberst Koch will not be impressed at your treatment. You are undermining his plans. Now go.’

With a vicious look that promised retribution the Major and his men left, leaving Scott to slide off the chair now that his support had gone. Koch hit the emergency bell and medical staff came running.

She watched as the medics swarmed over Tracy, getting him back onto the bed and then rushing him off for scans to check for any damage the forcing of the tube down his throat and then ripping it out again. Koch kept pace with them until they refused her entry. So she took a stance against the wall and reluctantly made the call.

‘Ja?’ ‘Da ich bin.’ ‘Bericht.’ ‘Der Major ist ein Idiot. Tracy wird nicht gehorchen. Der Plan wird nicht funktionieren.’ ‘Schade. Finde dich damit ab.’ ‘Und Tracy?’ ‘Ich habe gesagt: Find dich damit ab.’

He didn’t wait for her reply, and Koch pondered how she was going to “deal with it” in a way that wouldn’t bring repercussions onto them. She stayed there, thinking, until the doors opened and a now-sedated Scott was wheeled back into his room.

The Doctor’s report was scathing about what had happened but ultimately – and miraculously – no permanent damaged had been done and with rest and more medical care Oberleutenant Tracy would be able to be discharged in around four days.

Four days wasn’t long, but she had a plan now. Koch settled in the chair beside her charge and carried on making phone calls. By the time the sun rose the next day all her plans were now in motion.

When Scott finally woke up the Stabshauptmannn was standing at ease where she always stood, with both Scott and the door in full view. He had a moment when he thought that the woman must have been standing there for days, but he drifted off before the thought could coalesce.

The next time he woke up his whole upper body felt like it had been scraped raw, which he supposed was actually what had happened. As he looked around he noticed Koch was missing but another woman with the same rank was standing at the foot of his bed.

When she noticed that he was awake she saluted him. Scott returned the gesture, albeit stiffly. She didn’t talk to him but stood to the side as the medics entered the room. The doctor stopped at his side and for the first time spoke to him. When Scott answered his voice was rough.

‘You will be sore for a little while, Oberleutenant Tracy, but you have suffered no lasting damage. No food for a few more days yet, but after that we want you to eat.’ ‘I made my stance clear.’

The Stabshauptmannn tutted but didn’t say anything more, ignoring the looks both men cast her.

‘I can only encourage you. You will heal better with real food once you can eat safely.’ ‘I understand. But this is not open for negotiation.’

The doctor paused and regarded him seriously.

‘I think you are an idiot. But…’

Scott nodded and reached over, giving the doctor’s arm a squeeze. It was the only thing he could think to do to reassure the man that he’d thought through what he was doing and didn’t hold the medic in any way to blame. It was only at this gesture that Scott realised he had not been recuffed to the bed.

‘Stabshauptmannn Koch has requested we get you ready for transport today.’

Slowly Scott sat up, frown clear. They were moving him? Panic seized him – they had promised that he needed to be fit for the trial, they wanted him at his best, and Scott was realistic about how awful he looked.

The obs machine started beeping and the doctor was talking to him but Scott couldn’t hear him. Vaguely he was aware that he was having a panic attack and he fought to get himself under control.

‘Calm yourself, Oberleutenant Tracy.’

Ah, Stabshauptmannn Koch was back. She stood at the bottom of his bed where he could see her, and her calm, matter-of-face tone helped him to ground himself.

When Scott was under control she asked the medics to leave and once it was just the three of them.

‘You are to be transferred, Oberleutenant. You have become…a problem. And I have been tasked with…dealing with you. Stabshauptmannn Kurschat will escort you. Goodbye, Oberleutenant Tracy, I hope we never meet again.’

She smartly saluted, executed a perfect military turn, and left.

Scott blinked, unable to process what she was saying. But the smirk on Kurschat’s face told him that he’d heard her correctly.

Within a couple of hours Scott – bed, obs machine and IVs all and still minus cuffs – was in an ambulance with a nurse, heading he did not know where. He took the time to rest as much as he could as he had no idea what would happen once he arrived, and he had plenty of experience of how Bereznik treated their prisoners.

It was several hours later and darkness had fallen when they arrived. Stabshauptmannn Kurschat stayed in the ambulance as he was wheeled out. In the darkness Scott didn’t get to see what kind of building he was being taken into but the smell of disinfectant told him that it was another hospital.

No one spoke as he was wheeled in. He was settled in a room, but weirdly his obs machine wasn’t plugged in.

In fact, they unplugged him completely, just left the IVs in. Confused, Scott stayed quiet. He might not understand what was going on, but there was just the slightest of chances that this was not an accident.

He feigned sleep for a couple of hours and was just on the verge of drifting off when his door was slowly and quietly opened. A man entered, covered in clothing that Scott knew by heart and for once in the last six months he felt an old emotion welling up.

As Kyrano smiled gently at him Scott felt hope for the first time since he’d been shot down…

fin

Translation by google (so sorry if it isn't right)

‘I did what you wanted. now let me go.’

‘Why would I let you go now? After seeing what you could do for me?’

Scott looked down at his hands. He’d promised himself he’d never let anyone use him the way Stryker had done so, and yet here he was again. In many ways Janus was worse than Stryker…at least that monster had some semblance of military reasons. Janus just wanted to be top and was willing to kill anyone who stood in his way…or get Scott to kill them.

Unsheathing his claws, Scott took a step towards his tormentor. Janus merely grinned wider.

‘Now, now, Scott. Or do you want me to destroy your brother’s mind?’

Janus pulled up the picture of Alan. That helmet, that machine, that should have been enhancing his psychic powers now held him captive, and there was nothing Scott could do until their family found him.

Reluctantly Scott sheathed his claws again. Janus had all the cards - for now.

Reaching out, Janus tenderly tucked a stray hair behind Scott’s ear before leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

‘That’s better, Scott. Or should I call you Wolverine? Because that’s who you’ll be for me from now on.’

This last week he’d gone from Presidential shoe-in, second richest man in the world and Head of both Tracy Industries and International Rescue to world pariah. It had only taken a couple of hours for the news to…

The TV, quietly playing in the background, suddenly flashed up with a picture of that bastard arriving at TI to take control. With as much force as he could muster he flung the remote at it, breaking the screen.

That - that bastard, he’d taken everything from him! He’d done it when he was four and he was doing it again!

No! Jeff wasn’t going to take this, not again, and definitely not from …

He sat back suddenly. A pain erupted in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. It felt like his eyes were going to burst from their sockets.

Jeff clawed at his throat but he couldn’t get his shirt undone. He was getting weaker by the second. Black spots appeared in his vision and his vision dimmed.

The edge of the bed gave way as he swayed and fell on all fours between the bed and the wall. There was just enough energy for him to vomit and just enough time for Jeff to register with dismay that his bowels had evacuated themselves before he collapsed completely and knew no more.

…

Room 16 had been paid for for three nights but by night six the keys had still not been returned. This wasn’t an unusual state of affairs for the motel – people often found they needed a quick get-a-way – so the kid at the desk didn’t think anything of it as he took the master key and went to check on the state of the room.

The door opened and the smell immediately made the kid gag, so he hid his nose in the crook of his elbow and stepped in.

The first thing he saw had him backing out quickly, forgetting about relocking the door as he pulled out his phone with a shaky hand.

‘911 what is the address of your emergency?’ ‘Uh…The Paradise Motel on I-95 outside New Rochelle. I – I found a body.’

~

There was more shout but the captains were professionals and ignored the commotion and, instincts suddenly flaring, Scarlet placed his hand on Jeff’s head to protect it for entry into the car.

He’d barely placed it there when his hand exploded. As did Jeff Tracy’s head.

The press and gathered people dropped to the ground with remarkable alacrity as Blue roared over the comms and yanked Scarlet into the car, keeping his mangled hand hidden from sight.

Colonel White and his Colour Captains were the only ones still standing. While Blue was dealing with Scarlet he took the opportunity of looking around.

One shot. No other noise, no one else hit – if you discount Scarlet who was just unlucky – this was the work of a sniper. He scanned the skyline. The area was full of huge buildings like Tracy Towers, and there wasn’t a hope of realising who…

Suddenly something white was thrown from a window and as it fluttered down it unfurled until White realised it was still attached to the building and was behaving more like a flag.

“Bereznik będzie wolny od dyktatorów i handlarzy niewolników!” “Bereznik will be free from dictators and slavers!”

He didn’t pause at Scott’s door, simply knocked and opened at the same time, but the empty room pulled him up short. Alan was sure he’d heard One return just before midnight…so where was his brother?

Maybe he was on the bathroom…nope. The door was open.

Maybe he was on the balcony…no, no brother-shaped lumps there either.

Huh.

Leaving Scott’s room door open, Alan made his way via the lounge towards the kitchen, but Scott wasn’t slumped asleep at the desk and nor was he downing a glass of water while looking over the pool - both things Alan had caught him doing at this time in the morning previously.

He couldn’t still be in the hangars, could he?

Alan was a little more cautious descending to the hangars. After all, he wasn’t dressed properly and didn’t have any footwear on, and if he hurt himself now he’d never hear the end of Virgil’s safety presentations…

But the hangars were empty of people. Only the birds sat quietly on their roosts, One still occasionally ticking quietly as she cooled.

Where the hell was Scott?

And why hadn’t John called him out on being up and about where he aught not to be?

As if thinking about John could summon him Alan quickly boxed that thought up and made his way to the infirmary. It was the only other place he could think of.

(He ruled out with Grandma coz that was just a scary thought and the idea that Scott could be with Kayo didn’t even enter his mind.)

There was light emanating from the infirmary and Alan unconsciously slowed down.

What if Scott was hurt? The last person he’d want to see was Alan, Alan knew this. It hurt and angered him sometimes but Alan knew why, but they didn’t mean he liked it.

But…what if Scott was hurt?!?

The thought propelled Alan into sudden movement, and he almost bounced off the doors trying to enter before they opened fully.

Alan stopped short again. There was no Scott in the infirmary. But the light was on which meant someone must be here!

He rounded the first bed and once more suddenly stopped, this time because someone was there.

Scott was lying on the floor. His normally Cambridge Blue shirt was suspiciously shiny in the soft light and turning a disturbing purple colour which made his brother’s pallor appear even worse.

But nothing compared to the sticky red stain spreading out from under Scott’s back.

‘Scott?’

‘Hmm?’

The lack of Scott jumping cup to reassure him ramped Alan’s worry skyward. He tried to keep a lid on his growing panic by going for a nonchalant approach.

‘Scott?’

‘Sprout?’

‘There’s blood on the floor.’

‘Mmm, yes. I’m aware of that, thank you.’

‘Your blood is on the floor.’

‘Yes, we’ve already established that.’

‘Why is your blood on the floor?!’

Scott cracked one eye open a moment and closed it again.

‘I think it might be something to do with the lack of this.’

He unfurled fingers Alan hadn’t noticed were closed and a knife rolled out.

Alan tried to speak but nothing came out.

And then Scott sighed slightly and his chest stilled and Alan…

A great building work was set into motion. The largest cities, spaced well apart to prevent infection, were increased in size both outwards and upwards and enclosed in huge walls.

Walls designed to keep people in. And the infected out.

The GDF, once the peacekeeping force of the World Government, found their job description changing. Whole companies were installed into each city and the Medscanner tech that had been instrumental in advancing medication and saving lives was now repurposed for early identification of infection.

It was in many cities the only piece of technology that worked.

Once identified the infected were forced out of the city, away from all they love, to die alone with the rest of the infected.

Alan yawned, rolled his eyes and carried on doodling in the corner of the book he was supposed to be reading along with the rest of the class as the screen narrated.

He hated this lesson, and he wasn’t the only one. No one in the room was paying any attention to the automaton robot who was reciting their history, heedless of the lack of interested children.

School was a bind on most of them. The class was mixed age and the history lesson was delivered to a background of chatter.

Sighing again and rolling his shoulders, Alan looked across the room to where his brother Gordon sat, one hand propping up his head and looking lost in concentration. He smirked and rolled up a small piece of paper before flicking it at Gordon’s head.

Laughter filled the room as Gordon jerked awake and fell off his chair. As he climbed to his feet and sent a glare to Alan that promised retribution their teacher finally fell silent and trundled over to Gordon.

“Whistle-beep-beep-whistle.” ‘I’m fine, MAX. Thank you.’

The camera-eyes looked at him appraisingly and the shutters closed slightly like the robot was squinting, but eventually MAX gave a short nod before returning to the front of the class and restarting the narration.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, much the same way as every day did, and eventually the pair were waiting by the gates for one of their brothers to pick them up. As they waited the snow that had been threatening all day began to fall thickly, coating the cobbled courtyard in moments.

It was always potluck as to which brother would pick them up. Virgil had just begun an engineering job with the city, John worked at the Science Centre and Scott for the Central Government. Of course it could be Grandma that picked them up but she was busy these days in the hospital.

In the end it was Virgil who picked them up in his battered green pickup. The mechanical beast of a car was so noisy they couldn’t talk even though they were sat next to each other, the steam that drove the engine louder than anything else.

Virgil dropped them off and returned to work and the pair messed around (did their homework) while the waited. Grandma would get back first in time to (try) to make dinner followed by Virgil and then John and Scott would come home together in the late evening.

In the end they were joined with Virgil’s friend, Hiram Hackenbacker who they affectionately called Brains, who brought dinner with them. The sickly yellow light that the gas lamps gave off bathed them in gave the food a weird colour but it wasn’t burnt or raw and therefore edible…Scott and John were lucky that Virgil had already put some aside for them.

Conversation was light and Grandma offered Brains to stay since the streets would be dangerous even though the snowfall had slowed down to light flakes. He accepted since Virgil offered to take him to work in the morning, and they settled into the main room to wait for Scott and John to join them.

Sally began to fret when neither of them appeared at the usual time. Her unease began to increase and it spread to the others. Brains retired quickly but, despite the fact that Alan and Gordon should have been heading to bed themselves, no one else made to leave.

As the two-hour mark passed Sally picked up the phone to call the Government department where Scott worked. Calling a missing person in was fraught with danger in of itself. It wasn’t a good idea to highlight any behaviour that was out of the normal for a person lest the GDF was called in, but as she went to dial the front door opened.

And John walked in.

He was dishevelled, had obviously fallen over several times in the snow. There were clear indications he’d been crying.

He stood in the doorway, frozen, and it was like time itself had stopped. Eventually it was Virgil that broke the silence with a whisper that was louder than a shout.

‘Scott?’

Gordon laughed and threw himself on the bed beside her. He propped himself up and just lay there, grinning at her. Kayo turned to face him so that they were nose-to-nose.

They stared at each other, grins playing around their faces until she knocked his elbow out and jumped on him…

The knock on the door had them pausing.

‘Gordon? May I remind you that you have a meeting in 30 minutes?’ ‘Thanks Grandma!’ ‘Better me than John!’

Their Grandma was cackling as she left and both of their faces were flaming, but she was right – it would have been so much worse if John had…appeared…at that precise moment.

Leaning over her and kissing her briefly, Gordon got up to get ready while she contemplated whether to get up herself. It was rare for her to have some time free and with Gordon too – this meeting was the only bit of “work” in their holiday and one that she’d insisted he keep as it was a particularly important one to Gordon’s marine work.

He strolled back in and Kayo, still in bed and propped up with pillows and half-covered with a sheet, burst out laughing.

Gordon was still dressed in his PJs…all he’d done was put a tie loosely around his neck and neatened up the top. It was still very visible what he was wearing and Kayo laughed again.

‘What?’ ‘You’re going to attend the meeting in your PJs?’ ‘Why not? PJs are still clothes. And this is about marine conservation.’

She couldn’t think of anything to say to that, but the mirth was still clear on her face as Gordon set up the zoom meeting on the desk that sat under the window. He glanced up at Kayo and thoughtfully nudged the screen so his fellow attendees couldn’t see his lover in all her glory.

So Kayo couldn’t see the reaction to Gordon’s outfit. But she did hear them.

‘Mr Gordon Tracy! So pleased to finally get to see you in person!’ ‘Likewise! Please, call me Gordon.’ ‘Gordon. I must say that I do love your shirt.’ ‘Why thank you! I thought it was perfect for this occasion.’ ‘Indeed. Let’s talk about marine conservation.’

He had taken her out of the ballroom into a balcony where fresh air combined with the whisky to put a rosy glow on her cheeks.

They had talked. And talked. And talked, long into the night.

It has been a long time since anyone had shown a genuine interest in him as himself. Not as Scott Tracy Commander of IR, or as Scott Tracy head of TI and certainly not as Scott Tracy the billionaire, but she’d never brought up his personas at all.

In fact, they’d mostly talked about the various Veteran charities that would benefit from the night’s fundraiser and their own experiences.

She’d not been a soldier or in any service, but her brother had been in Poland visiting family when the Bereznik civil war broke out and hadn’t managed to escape before the rogue state had attacked Poland and annexed almost all of it.

Her brother was one of the million “missing” - souls who disappeared during the war.

It came as a surprise to both of them when Jeff sought them out to tell them the event had finished.

If his Dad had a certain twinkle in his eye Scott purposely didn’t see it, and he definitely didn’t hear the catcalls from Gordon over the discreet comms that Scott immediately ditched before grabbing her hand and whisking her off to continue their conversation.

He didn’t come home for two days.

And it seemed that only Scott was surprised by how hard he’d fallen.

They talked all the time. And spent every spare moment together. All of his family had made comments about how relaxed he now was.

And then tonight had come up.

Her family that had survived Bereznik, that had been lucky enough to reach the Polish border when the machine of Bereznik turned its attention to neighbouring countries, had finally been persuaded to visit.

It meant a full house at her family’s small apartment, and although they’d been there almost an hour Scott hadn’t met everyone yet.

Unfortunately she didn’t know much Polish, and the four women - three cousins and a grandmother - spoke a dialect that Scott couldn’t place. Her older sister knew quite a lot, thankfully, so they’d left her to translate.

The cousins were stoic but smiley, nodding along to the conversations that so far Scott hadn’t paid attention to as it was just so much noise, but he’d yet to meet her maternal grandmother. She was sat almost with her back to him and with the headscarf she wore Scott couldn’t make out any defining characteristics.

And suddenly they were through the crowd and he was standing there seeing the woman he loved embrace the older woman before him.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t move.

‘Scott, this is my Nana.’

The old woman carefully stood and just before she could topple over she grasped Scott’s forearms. Her grip was fierce, and he could feel the bruising her fingers were leaving.

She leaned forward as if she was going to kiss his cheek. Instead her lips brushed his ear as she spoke.

It was guttural, a language no one else there understood. But Scott understood as she dug her fingers in harder.

He knew no one had noticed what she’d said. Nor had they noticed how hard her eyes were. Or how hard she was clutching him.

But everyone noticed when she let go.

For Scott, as white as a sheet, couldn’t stop himself from running.

Running from that language.

Running from that voice.

Running from that oh so familiar face.

Running from the threat muttered in that blend of German and Polish that only Bereznik faithfuls used…

“Sag es ihr, a ona zginie.”

It wasn’t like his one and only eldest brother to be late picking him up. Not since…John shut that thought down ruthlessly.

The snow was muffling the sounds and it took John a moment to realise that what he could hear was footsteps, and he took a step forward before pausing.

He was pretty sure that it was Scott - he’d recognise his footsteps anywhere - but as he concentrated John could make out more footsteps.

Scott was being followed? That didn’t make sense and the logical part of John’s mind told him he was being silly.

His brother appeared then, on the edge of the circle of light, and John’s heart sank. Scott was pale, worried-looking, and his eyes looked…haunted. That was the word.

Scott didn’t come any closer. Didn’t attempt to make any kind of physical contact, and John knew. He just knew.

Four men materialised into the light. They ignored John and surrounded Scott. The dreaded scanner washed over him, the bright yellow light a stark contrast to the murky glow of the gas lamp above John’s head.

Blue eyes filled with so much emotion - sadness, pain but above all else love - and then the five were gone.

John froze on the threshold for a moment before running after them, ignoring how he skidded on the slippery cobbles.

‘No! Wait! Please!’

One of the Inspectors turned back and waited while the others carried on, and Scott was gone before John could catch up.

A bright lamp flared into being and John skidded to a halt, squinting at the person holding it aloft. As he got used to the light the man lifted his helmet and the face became recognisable, as did the familiar uniform of the GDF.

‘Wayne? Wayne Rigby?’ ‘John. You need to leave. Now. Go home.’ ‘But Scott…’ ‘I’m sorry, John. You know the rules. All infected are to be immediately removed.’

Rigby re-donned his helmet, turned smartly and marched away, leaving John alone in the barely lit street, tears falling.

He woke up at home. In his bed.

Hardison was asleep in the chair next to his bed while Parker was on the covers, curled into his good side, not touching him but her hand was a hairs-breath away from his.

Eliot blinked.

Parker had moved and was now in the chair. Hardison was nowhere to be seen, but the smell of something cooking told Eliot where he was. Frying onions and garlic and butter wafted in, and he wanted to yell out for Hardison to “turn the damn gas down” but nothing came out but a croak.

Immediately Parker was there with a spoon of ice chips which Eliot gratefully accepted because he knew what was wrong with him and if he coughed now it would only make things worse…

But holding in a cough when you have broken ribs wasn’t that easy and, despite Eliot’s sheer strength of will, he could not stop the inevitable, and Parker was holding him up and yelling for Hardison and there was a crash in the kitchen and he was coughing and blood was splattering the white sheet over him…

Coolness flooded him and the pain eased and his eyes fluttered shut.

The next time Eliot woke up Parker was sitting cross-legged on the bottom of the bed eating a bowl of that ridiculously sugary cereal and ginning at him as she shovelled in another spoonful before swallowing the previous.

He looked to the left and Hardison was there, lifting his glass of that orange soda he drank like a fish as a salute before taking the noisiest, most obnoxious slurp he could manage.

Eliot chuckled then grimaced.

‘Don-don’t make me laugh, it hurts.’

Hardison reached over and gently patted his shoulder with a grin. Eliot knew that grin. That grin did not bode well. Not for him and not for his kitchen.

‘What? What have you done.’ ‘Done?’

Putting his hand on his chest in outrage, Hardison looked to Parker, the outrage clear.

‘You hear this, Mama? What have I done? I? When all I wanted to do is to look after you while you are sick and injured like you did for us? Well, I like that. I like that. I suppose you don’t want the chicken noodle soup we made for you?’ ‘We?’ ‘Me an’ Parker.’

Eliot eyed Hardison and cleared his throat.

‘Does it have orange soda and cereal in it?’

Stifling a groan, Lucy gently shook Jeff’s shoulder and he started suddenly.

‘Lu-Lucy?’ ‘Jeff…need a little help…’ ‘Uh…ok…’

It took him longer on the uptake but eventually he helped his wife to the bathroom then back to bed. He pulled the covers over her and kissed her forehead.

‘Why didn’t you say something?’ ‘I didn’t think I was that bad.’ ‘K. Ok.’ ‘Did I scare you badly?’ ‘You could say that. But I think, once you’re better, you need to talk to Scotty.’ ‘Scotty?’ ‘Yeah, he found you and called Ma. If you scared anyone then it was our baby.’ ‘Oh god. Is he alright?’ ‘Yeah. He did good, Luce. Real good.’

She was about to reply when a huge yawn split her face. Jeff chuckled and lay down beside his wife and cuddled into her.

Scott’s panic was clear and he dissolved into a coughing fit before she could answer, and Ruth found herself coaching his breathing so he could finish speaking.

‘Where’s your Mom?’

‘Sh-she’s on the floor!’

‘Ok. Ok, I’m on my way. I’m going to tell you want to do, ok?’

‘Ok.’

Ruth scribbled down a note, flung it at her receptionist and ran. Once her car was moving she activated the loudspeaker.

‘Scott?’

‘M’here.’

‘Can you tell me if your Mom is breathing?’

There was a pause. Ruth could hear him moving.

‘Yes. Mom’s breathing.’

Oh thank goodness!

‘Ok. I need you to move her into the recovery position. Is she on her back or front?’

‘Back. I don’t know how to do that!’

‘Don’t worry. I’m going to explain it. Hang on.’

While Scott waited Ruth added Jeff to the call but ignored him when he answered almost immediately.

‘Now I want you to position the arm nearest you into an L by bending her elbow, placing it palm up. Tell me when you’ve done it.’

It took a minute, and she could hear Jeff running for his own car - but eventually Scott had done it.

‘I - I remember now! I did this in Rescue Scouts!’

‘Talk me through it as you go, Scott.’

Scott did so, sounding more assured of himself as he continued and Ruth didn’t need to correct him at all.