Birdwatching

The journey home had been filled with the excited chatter of his younger brothers. The pilot tuned them out, fixing a benevolent smile on his face while focusing intently on Two’s background E hum in a mostly unsuccessful attempt to ignore the hollow sensation in his gut.

He didn’t understand where the glow had gone.

Sure, he’d started feeling a little wistful recently. Maybe there were only so many emotional reunions a person could witness before they started playing on a slow motion loop in your head like some cheesy 20th century movie montage and lost their novelty.

Anyway, he’d had plenty of run, catch, throw, spin routines with Alan when he was smaller and knew full well that the inevitable tiny-but-solid knee to the stomach or flailing elbow to the jaw made the whole thing less idyllic than it looked.

God forbid he try that now. Alan’s glare as Virgil had reached out to steady his little brother’s slight stumble off Two’s passenger platform earlier that afternoon could have set his eyebrows on fire.

The throbbing pressure in the back of his throat had been subject to a gradual crescendo since they took off and it was beginning to make it difficult to breathe without concentrating. So he concentrated on breathing. He concentrated on flying. And then on landing. And he sorted post flights. And he cleaned up Gordon’s forehead graze. And he rolled his eyes when Gordon told him to “STOP BEING SUCH A MOM, VIRGARONI”.

That was only niggling at him now because it was Gordon’s most stupid nickname yet. For goodness sake, sounds like a type of pasta. He tramped into the locker room and attempted to drown his increasingly foul mood in the shower - full power-hose mode. Extra hot. He lost track of time just a little, tracing the path of grout around the tiles with his eyes, letting the water drill into his skull and wondering whether this was… everything.

Whether his role in life was to preserve and observe and… just that?

That was a pretty awesome role all told. He was preventing families being torn apart, enabling Happiness and Normality for hundreds. It was a PRIVILEGE. Only an awfully selfish person would have any kind of problem with playing his part. And anyway, look at what he had - his incredible siblings who he adored were always close by, a they had a beautiful home and they wanted for nothing. He was objectively the luckiest man alive.

And yet.

He growled in frustration and shut off the water, leaning heavily on the wall for a moment as a wave of wooziness rushed over him. Maybe the shower had been TOO hot. According to his wrinkly fingertips he’d been here wasting time for far too long. The others would start wondering where he’d got to.

Clothes. Style hair. Happy face on. Up to the lounge.

The lounge was empty. But there was the piano.

Music would make it better, it always did.

Picking something generically soothing - Beethoven’s Moonlight - Virgil focussed intently on the subtlety of the rhythm, recalling his Mom perched next to him on this very stool, explaining it wasn’t as simple as the length of the notes but the different stress on each. She’d had him reciting “pineapple pineapple pineapple” as he played.

He remembered his dad standing behind them, placing an arm around both their shoulders and giving a squeeze as he made some kind of fruit-based pun Virgil could no longer bring to mind. Mom had poked her husband in the ribs, mocked him for his dad jokes and pulled him in for a kiss. Pre-teen Virgil had squirmed with embarrassment but the sweet moment had stuck with him and he’d hoped maybe one day…

With a discordant crunch his hands came to a halt. He clearly needed to play something that required more brainpower to shut down this ridiculous self-pitying Nonsense.

He half stood and reached into the piano stool to extract the book of advanced technical exercises John had bought him a couple of years back. They were fiendish, defied any sense of predictable pattern and the modal shifts set his teeth on edge. That should do it.

Time passed. It did not pass quickly. Half an hour or possibly decades went by and all he had achieved was a twitchy tingle in his left ring finger and the start of a tension headache. The cold, empty feeling had intensified. He shook his hands violently to shift the cramp and turned the page.

There was a soft cough behind him.

“That was… different?”

“It’s called training, Scott. Agility exercises. If I don’t do these I can’t expect to play the fancy stuff.” Virgil’s eyes widened slightly as he heard his own snappish tone.

“Sure, it’s just I could do with sorting some paperwork and so would you mind playing something a little less… uh… like… that?”

The part of Virgil that lived to keep his big brother sane slapped himself upside the head for being so self-absorbed. He looked up and arranged his face into an obliging smile.

“Of course, sorry. You want jazz or some kind of chilled filmic stuff or…?”

Scott’s wink and finger guns indicated relaxing film scores were the order of the day and so Virgil delivered. It was all going very well, he was definitely calming down and everything was fine. And not a Scott Tracy fake ‘Fine’ either, he cast a sidelong glance at his brother who appeared to be typing away peacefully. He transitioned into a lilting F# minor theme and went heavy on the sustain pedal to allow the higher notes to resonate through the room. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he shut all the silliness firmly away and began to enjoy himself.

Until a particular chord progression seemed to flick a switch in his soul and every hair on the back of his arms shivered to attention as a shard of ice slid down his spine.

His fingers sprang off the keys lifting the tune out through the high chords as it took on a life of its own - an insistent, yearning melody. A gasp escaped him as he found he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs - the villa faded out and he was grounded only by his fingertips returning again and again to the familiar rise and fall of black on white.

The ball of tension that had formed behind his eyes flooded down through his veins and out through his hands like poison sucked from a wound. The ache of loneliness - the longing… the surge of grief for what could never be - he forced it all down his arms and out into the wild, transformed into melody, pulse, rhythm to whirl past his bowed head and soar into the rafters and… away.

Virgil let his fingers rest on the keys as the last notes faded, gradually becoming aware of the tremor in his hands. Exhaustion swept over him and he shivered, realising his shirt was soaked with perspiration.

Silence but for the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.

Then, a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing away tears he had no recollection of forming. He released the breath he was holding and leaned into the touch with a sigh, eventually dragging his eyelids ajar.

Scott’s other hand settled on his shoulder as he crouched next to the piano stool, blue eyes full of questions and concern.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Virgil cleared his throat and began reaching for some appropriately reassuring words.

A earth-shatteringly loud screech startled them both as Gordon sprinted across the room trailing shaving foam with a furious Abominable-Snowman-Alan hot on his heels.

Virgil scraped his scattered emotions back into submission and watched Scott’s expression as his big brother decided to put a pin in the Tinies-wrangling for later and turned back to him. Some kind of explanation was clearly required here but Virgil found himself unable to add any more weight to the burden his brother already carried.

And so for the first time in a decade Virgil told his best friend a deliberate lie.

“I was just thinking about Mom”

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Maybe TBC? I should really fix them…

Note: Feel free to pick your own hauntingly heartbreaking film theme to knock Virgil over with (there are many that would fit!). The one that gave me the ice treatment the other day and I haven’t been able to get out of my head since is here.

(It’s all going well until about 40 seconds in then it whallops him)

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Part 2, Part 3

Virgil was definitely avoiding him.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t seen each other - they’d worked together perfectly normally on several rescues. They’d both joined in the usual banter over mealtimes. There had even been a family film night - albeit, instead of joining Scott on their usual couch, Virgil had squeezed in with the Tinies and spent the evening competing with Gordon as to who could wind up Alan the most about his movie choice.

But they’d not been alone in the same room. At least, not for more than the few seconds it took for Virgil to make some excuse and leave it.

He’d even apparently conscripted Gordon into constantly keeping him company whilst he did maintenance on Two. Despite all Scott’s loitering around the hangar, the Fish never seemed to get the hint to make himself scarce. Except that one time when Scott had hinted at the availability of leftover pizza in the kitchen but then Virgil had raced off hot on Gordon’s heels. Which would not have been of any note whatsoever if it hadn’t been for that momentary flash of panic Scott was sure had crossed Virgil’s face as Gordon jumped to his feet.

It wasn’t just the lost chance to really TALK to his brother either. There was a physical distance too which was almost more painful. It turned out that Virgil’s elbow nudges at dinner, his arm across Scott’s shoulders as they walked across the lounge, his habit of stretching out and throwing his feet over big brother’s legs when they had a moment to chill together on the couch… these felt as natural and as essential to Scott as eating or drinking and he missed it more than he could have explained. It made his jaw hurt.

He had figured he just had to give Virgil time and be available when he was ready. So he’d made a conscious effort to *not* be working whenever they had downtime, hovering in the communal areas and looking un-busy. He rushed through the paperwork later, once everyone was in bed and then stayed up for hours each night studying the last couple of month’s worth of mission logs and recordings, desperately trying to work out what had triggered… whatever it was… the other day.

He’d been lying, Scott was certain of that. Ironically that certainty had made him very uncertain of everything else - Virgil never lied to him. He was awful at it. Honesty usually shone out of his big puppy-like brown eyes. When he was withholding something they were clouded with guilt.

But to invoke their mother’s memory as a cover-up?

It must have been serious.

His research efforts turned up nothing at all out of the ordinary other than it had actually been a pretty successful run of rescues, a bit of a reprieve from the average. He couldn’t find any aspect of the scenarios they’d faced that seemed like it might have particularly upset his brother.

It had to have something to do with him. Virgil was acting perfectly normally with everyone else. He re-listened to every interaction they’d had over the comm. Had he been too brusque in directing the rescues recently? Was his tone wrong? He didn’t think he sounded any different although after a while his own voice really began to grate on him. Virgil’s responses seemed normal and he didn’t appear to react to anything in a negative way. Perhaps his brother was maybe a little quieter on the comm than usual… should he have noticed that sooner?

Or had he embarrassed him by making it clear he’d noticed him getting carried away that afternoon? But Virgil had never seemed to be worried about Scott witnessing his piano binges before - most of the worst more-recovery-than-rescue missions had been thrashed out on the piano over the years… No. The only way to find out was to ask him directly.

He hovered at the door of the hangar, took a couple of breaths to slow his galloping heart rate and pushed it ajar. He could hear Gordon talking at a mile a minute about something to do with aquaculture and Virgil was leaning up against a pod module with a politely interested look on his face. His eyes flicked briefly over to his eldest brother but didn’t linger, instead focussing firmly back on little brother with renewed focus.

Scott felt rather like he’d taken a grapple to the chest and backed out, closing the door softly behind him. He ignored the elevator and elected for the long slow trudge up the stairwell. By the time he made it to the lounge his vision was blurry and he had reached the limit of what he could bear. He found a sheet of notepaper from the desk drawer and scribbled a note. He folded it precisely in half, opened it again and checked it, then refolded it, running a shaking thumb along the edge. He tucked it underneath the door to his brother’s bedroom on the way to his own.

Virgil, I’ve upset you and I can’t for the life of me work out when or how it was in order to apologise properly - but please know I am so sorry.

I’ll be on my balcony the rest of the evening if you want to talk.

I miss you. S x

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Not that he wasn’t eaten up with guilt about it anyway. There was a good reason he was never deliberately untruthful with Scott - it felt like a betrayal even if he knew it was for the best. He was a horrible liar at the best of times, and now he could feel his face burning whenever his brother caught his eye. Every time Scott spoke to him, Virgil’s treacherous heart jumped into his mouth and he was almost overcome by the need to confess everything.

Not that there was much to tell.

Except that he was a fool who needed to get a grip and be grateful.

With stealth borne out of years of practice he crept on silent feet past the rooms of his younger brothers and paused at his own, glancing over at Scott’s. A prickle of… something ran through him and he was seized by the sudden urge to burst in and demand a big bro hug. It had been a few days, in fact, since his last. But Scott slept little enough as it was. Tomorrow, then.

Gosh he was tired. He opened the door and made a beeline for the bathroom, beginning to pull his shirt over his head as he walked. He became vaguely aware of a rustling noise from the vicinity of his right foot and shook it irritably, failing to shed whatever had got stuck to his sock. Flannel tangled over his face he reached down and removed the sock, random scrap of paper and all and abandoned it behind him. 

Once the grease was washed from his hands and teeth thoroughly brushed he drifted back into the bedroom and went to stand at the window. He squinted into the grey, his eyes finding nothing to focus on as the low lying cloud reflected the light from his bedside table straight back at him. He shivered, despite the villa’s consistent, comfortable temperature.

Tracy Island’s sub-tropical winters were very mild compared to those he’d experienced growing up, but the cooler temperatures combined with the frequent sea mists still made him long to hibernate. He pulled the blinds down and shut it out.

Flicking through the playlist on his tablet, he sought a track guaranteed to send him extra quickly into the land of nod for who knew how long he had before a rescue dragged him back into unwelcome consciousness. He smiled with satisfaction as he hit play on the snooze-jackpot - a soaring violin solo by a British composer - and collapsed face first on to his pillow to enjoy the fine arcs of spring green sound swoop and flutter around him like the songbird it celebrated.

And relax.

He was just on the edge of sleep and beginning to drool slightly when the change in texture brought by the woodwind entry nudged him awake again and he realised something was niggling at his sense of peace. With a huff he turned on to his side and opened his eyes. What had he forgotten?

The sock stared back at him.

Virgil considered himself a fairly tidy person, nothing on the military precision of his father or eldest brother but preferring a significant level of order higher than the younger two. An abandoned sock wouldn’t usually bother him however but, well, turned out a lot of irrelevant things were apparently bothering him lately.

He slid out of bed and commando crawled over to the sock in order to banish it to the laundry basket. It made a unexpected crinkly sort of noise and he pulled out the paper, realising with surprise it was a sheet of the fancy monogrammed stuff his dad had stockpiled long ago but nobody ever used in this digital age. Curious.

Humming to himself, he unfolded the note and the bottom fell out of the world.

A week’s worth of dropped eye-contact and excuses slammed into him like a runaway freight train. The background music was drowned out by a sudden high pitched ringing in his ears and a nausea that threatened to overwhelm his senses as he suddenly saw his attempts to hide the truth from his brother’s perspective. He looked at his watch and swore profusely - 3am.

How could he have been so short-sighted? So selfish? Of course Scott would interpret Virgil’s avoidance of him as a failing of his own. 

And he knew… he KNEW his big brother experienced rejection as physical pain. He may as well have kicked Scott in the stomach. In fact, that would have undoubtedly been less cruel.

He struggled back into his discarded clothes, panic making him clumsy and his mind flooded with memories of seeking out his trembling brother in the hayloft. Of finding his hero curled up in agony, borderline incoherent and paralysed by the conviction he’d let their overworked and well-meaning but infuriatingly oblivious father down *again*. That he’d never be good enough. 

It had always been Virgil’s job to look him in the eye and promise him that he was.

Not as much had altered in their adulthood as Scott seemed to believe, except that his over-achieving brother hid that pain better from the world. From everyone except Virgil. Because that certainly hadn’t changed - Virgil would always be there for Scott, would always hear that hitch in his breath, the subtle change in the melody of his voice. He would always catch him as he fell, would always seek him out and would never leave him alone.

Until now.

It must have cost his brother so much to write that note and Virgil had just… not showed up.

Stealth abandoned he raced to Scott’s door, only just restraining himself from barging straight through it - he might be peacefully asleep… maybe.

He cracked open the door and recoiled as a blade of cold damp air rushed into his face. 

The room was empty. Bedclothes neat and smoothed down, fluffy scatter cushions at 45 degree angle to the bottom edge of the pillow and… an ancient guitar propped up against the headboard. That gave Virgil pause, Scott hadn’t got that out in… a long time. He reached out and brushed his index finger across the strings. It was in tune. He’d been playing then? 

His attention was caught by the curtains billowing from the open balcony door, the luxurious material making a low whomp whomp whomp as it flapped back and forth.

His brother had returned from duty with an Air Force zero tolerance approach to clutter but a very definite inclination towards soft furnishings. He shuddered to imagine why.

Surely he wasn’t still out there at this time? In this weather?

Thrusting the drapes aside he all but threw himself on to the balcony, the exasperated reprimand almost on its way out of his lips before his brain caught up with the fact that both easy chairs were distinctly empty. Two glasses and a bottle of Virgil’s favourite whisky waited on the table between them. Unopened.

His hands white-knuckled on the balcony rail, as he peered out into the mist, racking his mind for where Scott could be - maybe he would have taken a hazardous, self-punishing run up the volcano? Would he have gone to hide on the beach? There were caves down there and some of them were tidal, would his brother be thinking straight enough to choose a safe place to tuck himself away? His heart hammered against his rib cage as he tried to work out where to start. Should he call John?

He half raised his arm to activate his comm and froze as the faintest of sounds interrupted his train of thought - a shuddering breath and a whisper of a sigh.

Virgil spun around and his already compromised ventricles were strangled even further as the shadow tucked into the tiny space between the far lounger, the wall and an outsized plant pot resolved itself into a tight ball of limbs and a pale chin just visible beneath an oversized hoodie. 

How like his commanding tower of a brother to try to make himself small.

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Little music vibe note: the piece Virgil chooses is The Lark Ascending by Vaughan Williams

All the love to @sofasurf @astranite @womble1 @hebuiltfive for incitement their encouragement, sense checking and specifically detailed discussion of soft furnishings.

He gave it up as a bad job, ripped it off and shoved it down the laundry chute, then rifled through his brother’s closet to pull out another of Scott’s oversized hoodies. Everyone knew he deliberately bought them too big so his stockier little brothers would be comfortable in any borrowed items. They hung off the eldest brother like a sack but he still insisted on wearing them occasionally so that when one was inevitably stolen, it was still undeniably his… so the magic worked.

Virgil allowed himself an affectionate smile at the sight of one of his own trademark plaid shirts hanging alongside. A shock of red amongst blue, grey, black. Scott would insist it was there in case Virgil ever happened to need it. Virgil knew better. The magic worked both ways, it seemed.

He selected an XXL mid-grey TopGun-logo’d number that was so huge it was sagged around his own shoulders like a tired hug. Finally physically warm again, there was now no excuse for the arhythmic trembling of his hands… Virgil clamped them under his armpits as he began to pace the floor in the restless manner he’d usually roll his eyes at his elder brother for.

How could he have been so blind?

Scott’s tiny frown lines had been barely visible over the last days but more than evident to one who could read him like a book despite his valiant attempts to disguise them with a calm voice and encouraging smiles. Indeed Virgil had noticed them, but hadn’t let himself stop to consider why they were there. To care why they were there. Instead, he’d wrapped himself up in his own fog of bitterness to the extent he’d viewed his brother’s uncharacteristically quiet, unbusy but constant presence as an annoyance - that precious availability the two of them so often missed out on had been an ironic frustration at a time Virgil had for once in his life been trying to avoid his eldest brother.

Scott knew. Of course he’d known that Virgil had upset himself and he’d been doing his best to give him chance to talk when he was ready. To be there for him without pushing. Quiet and patient. Everything Virgil had requested in the past when Scott’s anxious tendency to smother with love and concern became overwhelming.

He’d done everything right.

His reward: Virgil had made it clear he’d rather talk to anyone else.

Even the most confident, rational person might have wondered if the problem was with them after all. Scott, always managing to accept blame faster than anyone else even realised it was up for allocation, must have thought he’d done something truly awful.

It would have been torture.

The whistle in his ears hardened into the screech of horsehair ground furiously across discordant strings. The fragile songbird that had so soothed him earlier was torn and broken in the claws of a predator and it was Virgil who’d let it near.

“I’ve upset you.”

The note had been discarded in the rush to find his brother but Virgil was never going to forget the words.

“I miss you.”

With a rush of clarity Virgil realised that at least half of the Wrong feeling this last week wasn’t even the same Wrong feeling he’d started it with: He’d been missing Scott, even as he’d tried to avoid him.

Obviously he should have been honest from the start. He knew this. And yet… And yet he still didn’t know how he could possibly bring up that particular issue without Scott thinking it was his fault - ironically trying not to worry his brother had been the supposed motivation behind the hurried and entirely unconvincing lie that caused this mess in the first place. But it was clear he was going to feel hurt either way and Virgil couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t allow it to continue. Not when right now his big brother was punishing himself for the far worse crimes he believed he must have committed.

Virgil ended his circuit at the bathroom door and rested his head against it, listening to the irregular splatter of water falling around an object that kept shifting position.

He released the breath he was holding and screwed up his face as he drew a fresh gulp of air into this lungs. This was Scott. His best friend. They’d dealt with worse. As little kids they’d promised to always stick together, no matter what. To assume the best of each other. It was a rare occasion since that either of them had ever broken that vow…

The guitar drew his eye. More to distract himself from the screeching in his ears and his spiralling panic over finding the right words than a real desire to play, he crossed to the bed and perched on the edge, pulling the instrument across his lap and picking out a few quiet chords. The G and the Em sparked a sudden memory and he began strumming in earnest the simple accompaniment to a song they’d sang together in the simpler days -

And when you call

And need me near

Sayin' where'd you go?

Brother, I'm right here

And on those days

When the sky begins to fall

You're the blood of my blood

We can get through it all

Absorbed in humming to himself Virgil didn’t notice the sound of running water cease nor the bathroom door opening. The guitar spluttered a discordant twang as from behind him came a soft and still painfully uncertain:

“Hey.”

Virgil's big brother stood awkwardly in the bathroom doorway, swathed in his signature super-soft blue bathrobe, wet hair standing up in spikes, with the slightest hint of a curl at the edges where it was beginning to dry. As Virgil looked up at him, Scott looked as though he was about to say something more but suddenly dropped his eyes to pick intently at a loose thread on his cuff.

Moments passed. Each of them held the weight of the whole week. The months of quiet wrongness before it. The years of refusing to allow the feeling to become real by shaping it in words. Scott had always been better at words.

Virgil still had no idea where to begin.

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The song Virgil is playing is called Brother by NEEDTOBREATHE which has always struck me as a very Tracy song, especially Earth&Sky. Here’s my favourite version (the part quoted is the middle 8 and starts about 1:35).

Amber was a few steps behind Grey

Eyes flickering around the base as the captain talked with tge petty officer about  navel and security of the base, Amber mildy amused with grey showing his former navy roots, seeming at ease in his stance as he stepped with the petty officer.

Amber was second eyes for the sweep, of the base, its main purpose? designing ships to carve through the ocean, with speed and stealth.

"I'm sure the lieutenant would love to test that" Greys voice came through and Amber glanced at them with an eyebrow

"The weapons on board as precision, built to cripple targets, not eliminate" the petty officer smiled

"Means your targeting more of tye prepellas no?" Amber responded, making tge petty officer laugh

"Something along those lines, lieutenet" the officer smiled "think of it like a ship capture for submarines" 

"Huh..."

The petty officer paused taking out his phone "sorry...I have"

Grey waved him off with a half smile, Amber watched

"Your distracted"

He looked at the captain and sighed "I'm fine"

A slight tossle to his shoulder and he sighed "alright...working security, watching it incase of seeing a mysteron or something"

Grey sighed "were secure Amber trust me"

"I still want to check the perimeter grey...just incase alright?"

The older agent gave the blond a look, before giving In

"Alright, but I want you reporting in if you see anything and I mean anything" Grey stated "also want your eye on the weapons so be back in time alright?"

A grin came over Ambers face

"Course Grey, you keep taking to your other navy lads with your slang and banter and ill be actually doing the job-"

A long sigh from the captain, with a noticible eye roll "don't let the carpet trip you up snipes"

A laugh followed as he watched the lieutenant disapear around the cornor to do his sweep of the base

Grey sighed gearing the petty officers return

"Where did the lieutenant go?"

"A sweep, just normal spectrum business" Grey followed the officer "say how many knots can this ship do again?"

———

Amber walked the corridors silently, eyes flickering around the halls, just doing a sweep, he would smile to other crew mates, passing by who nodded back, leaving the lieutenant alone to sweep for anything suspicious

His mind wondering to the past few months, the tensenes around the world from the mysteron threat, colonel whites worry for him, before it settled on Black death, returning to them again...but not as Conrad they all once knew

he paused inhaling sharply

No, best not to think of that, not now, not here

Conrad is a threat and an enemy, but still a part of him still thought

If Scarlet could free himself from the Mysteron control, why not Scarlet?

He continued on his walk, pausing at the server room door, it would have been usually locked, but it appeared it is half a jar, latched almost, as if someone was propping it open

Raising an eyebrow hand going to the butt of his spectrum pistol

Opening the door steadily

stepping in checking the corners,

glancing over the servers, he closed the door behind him with a faint whisper of a click

Darkness enveloping the room, apart from the faint beeps and flickering lights of the rows of servers, and the low purr of fans within the room.

He stepped steadily, before pausing eyes falling on the slumped form against the work bench.

He rested a hand on their shoulder, giving a delicate shake

"Hello?"

No response, not even a flutter of their eyelids.

He checked for a pulse and stopped

Nothing-

His radio speaker dropped down "Grey- captain Grey come in?"

Static- must be the damn servers, maybe?

He spun heading back out, gripping his pistol tighter, ready to be jumped by an attack

But a chill caught him off guard, as it slivered up his spin, stealing his breath

His visioned swarmed suddenly making him stagger

Shaking his head to try and shift the growing feeling, but had little to no affect

His gun clattered to the floor, his suddenly hands numb

Sweat broke out from his brow, blurring his vision

His knees buckled under his fleeting strength

"h-how..."

He glanced towards the slumped form, who was now stood

Looming over his weakened form with a cruel smile

Amber breathed out falling onto his side as the numbness spread up his forarms, He gasped trying to catch his breath.

Vision blurry as the figure leant down into view, a cold hard cradling his jaw, which numbed with the simple touch

Ambers hair stood on end, seeing the faint green glow

"You-"

"Shhhh...just sleep now little lieutenant" the Mysteron smiled

And Amber was unable to fight off the wave of numbed sleep

———

Grey scowled "Captain Grey to Lieutenant Amber come in."

Nothing

He cursed leaving the American to sweep alone before sighing "Captain Grey to sky base"

"Captain, this is sky base" Green voice met him

"I've-" He sighed rubbing the bridge od his nose "I've lost Amber"

"Ha...again?" He heard the amusement in lieutenets tone, before a sigh "pinging his cap"

"Ah huh?"

"Looks like their in the server room"

Grey sighed, its never like Amber to get lost, he followed where Green stated the younger agent would be

Eyes on the server room before stepping in, hand resting cautionsly on his weapon seeing no sign of the Lieutenant

"You sure he's in here? I don't...-"

His eyes flickered to under the work bench, and froze, mouth going dry 

Leaning down grasping, Amber's fallen pistol

he swallowed the lump in his throat, gaze sweeping around the room

"Captain Green, spectrum is red, Amber's been taken"

———

Amber woke with a groan, groggy he tried to lift his head, everything felt so heavy

The effects of what ever the toxic still evident in his system, his still felt the same numbness on the base

He exhaled, swallowing thickly

How long was I out?  He thought

He breathed out, slowly, calming his panic,

No point in panicking, only lead to more issues

He trying to shift his arms again, feeling the mild strain up his arms, definitely bound

His gaze glancing down at himself

Just in his black under tunic and boots, Great

He rolled his jaw, forcing his head up

The room was dark, a light just above which hurt his eyes making it hard for him to see beyond the glare of the light, hard stone flooring under him which scraped against his boots

A shiver crept through Amber's body, alright breath focus

He closed his eyes trying to listen for anything that gave away his position

A low hum somwhere and that's all he got, he grunted, trying to shift his arms again feeling the faint tingles of pins and needles steadily settling in as feeling flooded into his joints

hearing footsteps

He stopped eyes scrunching up as the door opened, light hitting his eyes, the door closed

he opened his brown eyes again, staring up at his captures

———

Grey found Ambers cap shoved away in one of the server panels, the comlink damage, but its beacon still intact

Now he was just mapping out what could have possibly played out to catch the lieutenant so off guard.

He shifted his scanner around the room, he stopping at the scanners worrisome chirping showing an outline of a man leant againts the the work table, the outline pulsed with a worrying toxin signature, known to numb and make a target collapse with what it just seems to be a bad case of the flu

Must be how they managed to grab him with ease....

He mentally kicked himself for not keeping an eye on the younger agent

He backed out before he could get exposed any more standing oustide of the room

"Grey to colonel White..." He chewed his tongue

"Colonel White to Grey, go for?"

He resisted to rub his face "what I'm getting is that Amber got nosey, during his spot check route...they used a drug on him, believe it may have been the XS4"

"Are you positive captain?"

"Used scanner on it, chemically it links to it, but we have no further signs until we do further tests"

"SIG, get Scarlet and Blue to provide aid"

"SIG sir" He called off glancing at his hands he needed to wash them...

He pointed to the two guards

"No one gets in that room unless it's spectrum or the hazmat team, clear?" They nodded standing either side of the door

And Grey went to look for a bathroom to scrub his hands, just incase.

———

Amber spat blood his jaw ached as he bared his teeth at his kidnappers.

His face was grabbed, nails digging into his cheeks

"You will tell us where skybase is."

"Up your ass." He spat and a slap across the face made his head snap to the side

"No use boss, he's stubborn."

"Yet the stubborn can be broken." His hair was grabbed and he winced coming eye level with the capture

Amber glared, at the almost impossible to read eyes, likely because of these men were already dead.

"Mm...definitely has that fire in his eyes...."

He spat blood which splattered on the man's pale skin

His hair was let go, as the man laughed wiping his cheek smearing the blood

"Definitely fire."

He door opened and he was left alone in the silence, the cold settling in as Amber panted

Breath He thought, im still alive

He spat a thick glob of blood against the floor bowing his head as he was left with his thoughts

He exhaled slowly, wiggling his fingers, feeling the restraints against his bare wrists, lightly tugging, still locked tight...fuck

Footsteps returns, Amber looked up as the door opened

His jaw tensed ready for the next wave of pain.

———

"The hell you mean there's nothing?" Scarlet snapped eyes flickering over the recordings, scanning for the bright orange uniform, finding nothing.

"How the hell did they get him out?"

"Were going through as best we can-"

"He's bright orange. You can't miss him." Scarlet huffed

"Im sorry sir...we've went throigh twice, unless they had a cloak of invisibility...we don't know where they took him"

Scarelt rubbed his eyes, they've been at it for hours scanning through the video tapes and nothing was found, they saw Amber enter the server room, but nothing from then

No sign of anyone entering nor leaving

"I'll send the recordings to sky base." He sighed trying to ease the worry In his tone "Thank you."

The operator nodded, letting Scarlet send the videos towards sky base for more eyes on

He stepped out, eyes on Blue and Grey

"Anything?"

Blue shook his head

"Part from eye witnesses, they passed Amber doing a sweep" He sighed "other then that we have nothing scarlet"

Scarlet chewed the inside of his mouth, thinking

"We gotta inform the colonel, if They have Amber...its a security issue"

Scarlet glanced at the two other captains before his communicator flickered down

"Colonel-"

"We were just about to call captain. The recording was tempered with-"

He was already twisting towards the cctv room, Blue and Grey looking at eachother before following the storming Scarlet

He barged back into the room,  making the operator yelp

"Who has access to this room?'

"Wh-"

"Who has access." He snapped

"J-just security!"

"I want a list on who's on duty."

"S-sir?"

"Did I stutter?"

The operator fingers clicked and a list was brought up on monitor, of all the security officers on duty

5 names lit up red

"Uh...that's not-" the operator typed more

"They were supposed to be on duty..they haven't reported in..."

"Their the kidnappers..."  Grey huffed

"Any ideas where they could have gone?"

The operator swallowed shaking his head

"Least we got closer to people who grabbed him" Blue gave a half smile "send, base the photos we can look for em"

"SIG" 

———

Amber inhaled, humming low the pain thrombing up his likely broken arm, he swallowed down the taste of nausea  breathing out a slow steady breath.

Sweat dripping down his nose into his already blood stained lap

He was still alive...thats the best...least he was still alive...for who ever is coming to retrieve him...

He grunted slowly shifting feeling the pain blossom up his arm, biting his tongue to hide the whimper that tried to break through, he breathed out

Gotta get out

He breathed, slowly moving his good arm, steadily pushing his thumb, feeling the soft pop under his skin, as he dislocated his thumb

He panted before slowly inching his hand out of the restraints

They were tight, even with his thumb dislocated, using his sweat almost as a  way to ease his hand out of the restraints

He gasped as his hand came free

pain blossomed up from his broke arm,  nearly whitening out his vision

He stood stakely, knees giving out almost falling to the stone floor

He sucked in a lung full of air, steadying himself

Keeping his broken arm tucked close, he peaked out of the bars finding the door was-

unlocked??

What?

He thought staggering out keeping low, steadily collecting his bearings

His feet light as he moved keeping to shadows listening for anything that sounded like people coming his way

He saw light and moved towards it, the rush of trees, a forest

Fuck- where was he?

Just move gotta get out

He pulled what strength he had and bolted

Boots crunching the dirt underneath his steps, panting, pain ebbing up his shoulder, he slipped and let out muffled scream as he jarred his arm, laying sprawled on the...

Road?

He patted the tarmac with his good arm, trying to force himself up, a swarm of headlights met him and his eyes widened at the skidded, just a few meters away from him, hearing doors open, eyes on the blond and brunet who stepped out the car, his vision making it hard to see any details further, catching the red and blue uniform, could it be?

"B-blue? S...Scarlet?" He panted shaking eyes widening at the sight, his vision darkening as he tried to pick himself up, with no use

As the cold wet tarmac met his face

———

Amber layed in the medical bed, forcing himself to stay awake, the cast was a good weight around his arm, keeping him settled, cuts and bruises tended to, but the pain was still strong, he refused the morphine

He blinked hard, trying to get comfy, with the pain still flooding through his system.

His eyes flickered over the Grey uniform and half smile

"Hey buddy"

"Hey.." Amber croaked, trying to hide the pain

"Gave us a scare you know that right?'

He nodded exhaling

He watched as the senior officer settled beside his bed

"So..."

Amber chuckled "Ya gotta wait...still trying to process it myself with what happend"

"I know...I know...had us worried you know" Amber watched, Greys gaze,  before watching the captains gaze flicker to the morphine counter

"You aren-"

"No...I rather stay lucid Brad..."

"Amber-.."

"I aren't alright?"

"Your in pain."

Callum tensed his jaw, he never liked morphome due to its side affects on him.

"Amb..."

His brown eyes flickered to meet Greys own, brow furrowed seeing the captains hand wrapped around the button

Callum swallowed, licking his lips

"Brad..."

He knew this was a loosing battle, he swallowed the lump in his throat

He heard the delicate click, he inhaled softly head leaning back against the pillow as the medication flooded his system through his IV

Feeling something holding his hand, it felt colder, the guys probably been outside for a while...

"Still with us?"

Amber nodded eyes flickering, to Grey his heart monitor spiking

"Hey...gonna stay here alright...what ever your seeing aren't here...just me and you in this room, alright?"

Callum swallowed nodding silently

"I'm going to keep talking" Grey said softly "keep holding your hand too alright bud?"

"Y-yeah" He croaked

He closed his eyes breathing out, feeling the fuzziness slowly start sinking in, holding Greys hand tighter feeling him delicately stroke his knuckled

"Still hear buddy" his voice settled his mind "your safe bud"

He exhaled

"Th-"

"Yeah?"

"The naval base....how did weapons testing go?" The lieutenant smiled

"Weapons testing?" Grey questioned "we didn't run any"

Amber's stopped, eyes opening, looking slowly towards the captain

"We were running security only" Grey continued, the heart monitor spiked steadily

"Huh...must of really hit my head harder...." Amber licked his lips

"Say..." Amber started "what does...SIG mean again?"

Grey half laughed "wow, must of really hit your head hard, amb..." Grey smiled squeezing Amber's hand tighter"

"Connect to fire arms-"

Ambers heart monitor beside the bed spiked

Grey barley reacted to it, eyes locked onto Ambers own

Amber pulling his hand away from 'Greys' hold

"You can't leave Amber-"

He swung his legs out of bed

Nearly falling out of the bed with a clatter, Grey standing up smoothly, following the panicking lieutenet

Amber panted, yanking the IV out, wincing as blood oozed from the inside of his elbow, heart monitor cutting into a long beep as a green light flooded the room

"No-"

This had to be a dream, a fucked up fever dream

Amber backed up eyes wide, he staggered wincing as he slammed hus back into the wall, jarring his arm which sent pain up his arm

He was falling suddenly

Nothing around him

Before he slammed hard onto the ground

He gasped

Pain throbbing up his shoulder, gasping as bile rose in his throat at the pain, curling up almost onto himself, struggling to breath, his face scrunched up in the blinding hot pain

Mumbles around him, all felt too far away

Too much, too little, he curled up tighter feeling a wait on his shoulder, gasping

"S-st-op-"

A sharp pain in his hip

He whimpered feeling a hand cradle his head, running a hand throigh his hair soothing almost

"St..stop..."

He slurred before the darkness pulled him in again

———

Grey held his hands together, his palms sweaty with worry, as he glanced up at Gold, standing instantly

"He's stable, had to introduce a sedative"

Grey nodded

"This...this is my fault-"

"None of it is captain.." Gold voice soft "but right now he needs someone that he can trust"

Grey nodded "thanks doc.."

He was lead into the quiet room, eyes on the heart monitor, steady better then it was atleast

Eyes tracing over, sickly dark blues and purples painted over his pale skin around his face and his eyes, stitches marrying his skin back together, lip busted, arm casted up and that was just some of the wounds they noticable that the kidnappers  inflicted over Amber

Tox screen came back with a cocktail of fucked up drugs

When they did find him, He was barley coherent, and a state that no one has saw Callum in

Scared

Even in his scared state, he managed to land a hit into Blues jaw

Grey would have laughed under any other circumstances, but a heavily drugged hallucinating marine who's been held hostage, for nearly 5 weeks for information?

Not laughing matter

He sat beside the blond, just watching the rise and fall of his chest

Eyes on the restraints incase Callum woke up aggravated

Just a saftey precaution for himself and the medical staff

He inched his hand into holding Callums cracked nailed ones, feeling the fingers twitch around his hand

"I'm right here brother, all here"

Another finger twitch and he gave a small smile at it

"I'll keep watch"

———

Hours tick on by, and Grey found himself reading through the naval base report he wrote, beside Callums unconscious form, now just spot checking over what he wrote

The tablet laying propped up on callums bed, Greys other hand still holding the lieutenants hand as Grey read

He felt Amber's hand tighten around his own and his gaze flickered up, meeting the tired dark brown eyes

"Cal-"

"What-what does- SIG mean-" the man croaked

"Wha-"

A tight squeeze against his hand which made him winced slightly

"What. Does it mean" the lieutenant growled

"Spectrum is green"

He watched as the lieutenant, eyes widened, breathed out a wheeze, tears bubbled up and he felt the grip ease instantly

"Bra-"

He dropped the tablet "Hey hey hey-"

Crap-

"Gold!" He called back for the doctor

He cupped the lieutenants face

"Hey...on me. Eyes." He ordered

Amber's eyes locked onto Greys, tears falling down his face

"There we are...your safe. Your on skybase alright?"

"Y-yeah" the smaller lieutenant hiccuped

"We found ya" Grey said calming down the lieutenet, who hiccuped

"Still with me?"

A quite nod ans he eased a breath out

"Glad ya still here Cal..."

He sat at the back of the restaurant, against the plush, orange banquettes, attention solely focused on the menu open in front of him. He looked... tired. Aged. The stubble around his chin and the messy curls of his chestnut hair were so unlike the Scott she had grown up with, Kayo began to doubt her judgement for a second, questioning whether that really was her brother.

Kayo could see he'd lost more light than when she'd last seen him, something she'd believed impossible until now, and for the first time since the Vanishing, she felt a small pang of guilt over his leaving twinge within her.

The villa was silent and dark. Not peaceful, nothing as comforting as peace. Just quiet. As if the building itself were exhausted from the act of housing people trying not to fall apart.

Out beyond the tall glass of the windows, the moonlight spilled onto a calm ocean, the waves rippling the surface. Scott’s gaze snagged there, then he deliberately looked away. He had spent enough time looking at the ocean recently and it was unbearable.

The tide rise and fell, the sun rose and set on the horizon just the same.

The darkness of the kitchen was broken by the filtering moonlight, all awash in pale light as he reached for the coffee machine. The familiar gurgling started up behind him, and somewhere beyond the windows, waves broke gently against the island's shore.

Somewhere, everywhere else, the world carried on as though nothing had changed and their indifference was infuriating.

As though it were just any other Monday incoming.

As though Scott hadn't stood through yet another funeral service, trying to remember how to breathe and resisting the disturbing temptation to label himself an expert at burying the people he loved most.

It was a skillset he truly despised, even if it had made the paperwork more straightforward. Even condolence, every pitiful gaze, every murmur of you’re coping so well.

Coping, what was coping? What does coping look like when the universe is content to continue to fray the edges of the very fabric of your world, and rip out another patch as you desperately try to hold the threads together?

He didn’t use the word coping. Functioning, he was functional. Just about. Functioning was familiar, functioning was status quo. Scott Tracy has spent a large part of his life functioning. What was new?

"For someone who lectures the rest of us on self care, this is a pretty terrible example, y’know.”

The voice slid through the silence so naturally that, for one impossible heartbeat, he didn't question it.

Then his brain caught up.

“Isn’t it a bit late for that, isn’t it?”

Scott went rigid and for one impossible second, he simply stood there. Heart racing, hands braced against the counter, breath trapped in his lungs.

No.

No.

He spun around, expecting to find nothing other than shadows and his own broken mind playing tricks.

“Or maybe it’s early, not late… either way.” Gordon sat on the kitchen counter, cheerfully swinging his legs, grinning at his elder brother like he had done a thousand times before. Blonde hair as unruly as it ever was in the wee hours prior to a swim, the very essence of carefree and comfortable. Warm brown eyes followed his gaze. “This is a new peak even for you, I’ll admit it.”

The dim light flickered across his face, casting shadows long, and leaving him pale and other-worldly, as if underwater. How fitting. Scott stared still, unable to pull his eyes from his brother’s face, still grasping the edge of the kitchen counter as though he needed to be reminded of the solidity of reality.

Because otherwise… otherwise, he truly had lost his mind.

After all, dead brothers didn't sit on kitchen counters at three-thirty-three in the morning, commenting on your caffeine habit and smiling at you like they had missed you too.

“This is impossible” Scott whispered, unsure if he was addressing anyone in particular, or merely commenting on the astronomically impossible chance that this was not some wild product of his grieving mind.

“Eh, I’ll take it.” There was that familiar grin once more, as if teasing him to believe it could be true. “I’ve been called worse.”

And then, as if to prove his point, Gordon pushed himself off of the counter, and the light caught the shimmering edges of his profile as if transparent, something strange, something not quite right, as he came to stand before his eldest brother.