#bereznik

How much control does the World Council have over individual nations? Do they appoint leaders to these nations or do the nations elect members of the World Council?

We have seen that border crossing between countries and nations is not an issue, so maybe there is no such thing as hard borders anymore. Kind of like Schengen, but for the entire world.

Wherever iR responds, there seems to be an equal level of socio-economic development, which could be the World Council's doing by redistributing resources to level out the planet, regardless of if these areas wanted 'development' forced on them or not. But we also see a level of cultural identity retained, for example in Taipei compared to London.

And then we get the Global Defence Force. And my first question is always:

WHY DO YOU NEED AN ARMY IF YOU LIVE IN A UTOPIA?!?!

The GDF can mobilise anywhere on the planet (usually after the rescue has been completed) and are ready to mop up in the wake of iR being on scene.

Are these people what remains of the militaries of the world after 2040? Or are they privately hired by the World Council to do their explicit bidding? Do they serve the people or the Council and how might these interests diverge?

Besides GlobalOne (the purpose and mission of which we don't fully know) and the odd trip out to EDEN, the GDF doesn't operate in space so they aren't protecting Earth from asteroids or solar flares (or even aliens like Spectrum does!), and they don't work as emergency services either. So who does the Global Defence Force defend, and from whom?

As a pessimist, I'd say they serve the World Council and defend it from forces wanting to change the post-2040 status quo.

Occasionally these operations are also beneficial to the population, but that's just a happy coincidence.

We never hear of countries/nations disagreeing with each other, and any who don't conform quickly get stamped out (*cough*Bereznik*cough*)

If a country/nations has an internal or external issue, they must raise it to the World Council who then will order the GDF to step in and solve it, in a way that serves their own interests

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It had all gone very quiet.

Not the strange underwater-quality of quiet he’d been experiencing for days, almost as though the perpetual darkness that was now the sum total of his visual world was leaking into his auditory one.

No… no this was Quiet. Not just muffled noises but no noises.

None at all.

Had he lost his hearing altogether? He felt a surge of panic break through the eerie calm that seemed to smother his exhausted mind each time the fever dipped for a few hours. What if he couldn’t hear Virgil play anymore? Or little Alan’s giggle? He tried to remember the sound of his tiny brother’s laughter and encountered a frosted glass wall behind which the memory crouched. Scott reached for it… he could remember the feeling… but not the sound. No! No!!! He couldn’t lose that too!

A broken cry echoed off the walls of the tiny, unfamiliar cell.

Wait.

That was sound. He heard that!

The relief was quickly shoved aside by the terror. They might have heard that!

He held his breath and waited but nobody came.

Of course… the door was fairly solid and there were no windows here. He’d begun to curse the small barred hole near the ceiling of his old cell for the cold draft that sliced through it but now…

Now he felt the loss of that glimpse of sky like an open wound.

He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d been slung into this claustrophobic hellhole… when they’d apparently given up on getting any sense out of him. When the shouting and the pain had been replaced by the dark and the loneliness and the lurking fear that the next stage was an even smaller box.

Ha, silly boy, Tracy. They wouldn’t bother with a box.

His mind wandered for a moment as he wondered when they’d next check on him. Why they were leaving it to nature rather than just finishing him off themselves?

Perhaps they believed nature was crueller.

They obviously wanted to prolong it… Water and some kind of dry biscuit appeared occasionally and he hadn’t been able to help himself when he realised it was there - but he could never remember it arriving - clearly when the fever rose he was losing time. He hated not being able to track the time. It was all he’d had.

The last number he’d calculated with any kind of reasonable basis for it was seventy eight. Seventy eight days plus however long he’d been in the dark. Maybe a week? He’d survived that long. Grimly he wondered if he could stretch it to an even 100. He didn’t know for sure how sick he was, but he didn’t feel too optimistic. When they were still trying to break him they seemed to be giving him something for the fever… or perhaps it had just been something else awful they’d forced into his bloodstream. Maybe whatever it was was causing the fever? No… that didn’t make sense because they seemed irritated by it… worried even. Not for him of course but from what he’d picked up he wasn’t the only one suffering with it. Even some of the guards he’d learned to recognise had stopped turning up.

Something had gone wrong.

And what went wrong for them should be good for him. And yet… he scrunched up his face wryly as he felt the sweat begin to prickle at his hairline again and tried not to panic at the prospect of what was coming, at the impending loss of reality: where the living nightmare was made worse by vividly seeing his brothers experiencing it alongside him. Dad’s disappointed face. The blood on his hands… All the pain he’d… it wouldn’t be real. It won’t be real. It can’t be. He wouldn’t.

They’re safe.

Just wait it out, Tracy. You’ve got this.

He shivered and the ache in his bones intensified into daggers of pain.

He hadn’t got this. He hadn’t. Nobody could.

Yeah, he wouldn’t have wished this on anyone. Not even his worst enemies. Even when it was their fault. He’d happily have killed them for what they’d done to him and to the others. The sick bastards deserved death. But not this. This was worse.

He didn’t deserve this. Whatever they told him.

Whatever it was, they seemed not to be treating it now. And it hadn’t gone away. So presumably it would get him eventually.

Why was it so Quiet? Even when it was quieter they were clearly still around. He had evidence - the food and water for one. And clearly they were opening the heavy door at some point as even with the slight crack at the bottom the air in here should have gotten bad by now. The oxygen replaced by… whatever poison it was he was expelling from his lungs. The word, the name of the gas escaped him as so many things did now.

But there were some names he mustn’t forget.

He wiped at his damp forehead with a shaking hand, twisted his lank hair around his fingers and pulled gently. Come on, focus.

The whisper when it came required nearly all the energy he had.

“Hhhhh’Aaaaall…an”

Ok ok next one.

“G…g…hoord..nn”

“Tjjhh…onnn”

“Fff… vfff… vfff”

Come on. He bit down on a swollen broken lip and tried again.

“Ffffff….”

A panicked whimper escaped. He was losing this! He was losing them!

He could see him, brown eyes shining with adoration, his hand reaching out to hold his big brother’s and Scott’s own hand rebounded agonisingly off the metal door as he flung himself at the mental lifeline:

“FFFFFFVVIIIIIRGIIIILLL!!”

His throat burned from the scream and his ears rang. His head pounded and he could feel the fever rising again.

Footsteps thundered out of the silence.

Now he’d done it. Now he would be punished. Perhaps it would be the last, if there was any mercy left in the world. Scott pressed his forehead against the coolness of the stone floor and tried to be brave but as the door was wrenched open and so many voices thundered against his skull he couldn’t avoid cringing and curling himself away as the fever spiked again and he held his breath and flailed impotently against the sea of pain in which he swam. He tried to relax and let himself sink to the bottom, to take a breath and let it be but something was tugging at his attention. A muffled voice filtered down through the churning waves:

“Scotty! Bluejay! Stay with me! We’ve got you… stay with me. Please stay with me.”

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Previous chapter

That’s all for the Bereznik flashbacks. The next part focuses on Virgil.

“Copy, Preacherman.”

“Maintain low altitude. I have visuals on SAMs.”

Scott peers around his shoulder, past Kronos in the WSO control seat and out the window. True to his word, Valentine swings out with a sharp increase of speed. He settles into the secondary position of a two jet attack position. Scott pushes the throttle to its max with his wingman comfortably in sight.

The mountain is coming up fast like a brick wall. Scott braces his body against the seat and shoots the F-30 up vertically, out of range of the first set of SAMs and before the second’s sensors. Kronos puffs heavy breaths behind him. It takes all of Scott’s concentration to breathe in, breathe out- to fight against the G’s threatening to crush his body. The oxygen can’t flow fast enough from his mask.

“Preacherman, we’ve got sight of two Whispers in the clouds. Our radar isn’t finding them.”

“Visual, Kronos?” Scott asks once he catches his breath. 

Kronos peers looks as far as he can around the canopy. “No radar. I can’t see ‘em either! Must be somewhere far behind us.”

“Not good. One minute, thirteen seconds inbound,” Scott informs his team.

“Smoke! I see smoke! Preacher, bank right!” Valentine’s voice cuts through the static of high altitude.

Scott takes the warning from his wingman to heart. Despite being the leader, he follows Valentine’s shouts and banks the F-30 in a tight loop. 

“They’ve got lock,” Kronos shouts after smashing an array of keys. The missiles follow the direction changes almost as fast as Scott can make them. “Firing flares.”

“Fuck, already?”

The explosion of flares versus missiles sends a shockwave through the fighter jet. Kronos braces his forearm against the left side of the canopy to look out back. “Two Whispers inbound! First visual contact!”

Scott barks his orders like he’s more than the twenty-three years his body is. He can slip down into the mountain cliff crevasse, but Valentine and Sparrow are too far to follow. The Whispers will shoot them down before they can get to cover. “Valentine, break off! Break off!”

The second jet screams out to the right, taking one of the Whisper jets with it. But the other is trailing after Scott without a scratch. A drop off results in Scott shooting out into open air. No more Earth walls to protect him. Scott’s gripping the control stick with both hands and gasping in oxygen as he shoots up in altitude at a ninety-degree angle. The Whisper follows, unsuccessfully attempting a bullet spray. Scott pulls on the brakes, flipping the jet upside down before swooping down to get behind the Whisper jet.

The new Berezniki technology may succeed theirs, but Scott’s the best pilot of his division. And he’ll be damned if now isn’t the perfect time to prove his dogfighting skills. If he squints, Scott can make out the Berezniki pilot desperately trying to gain visual on their F-30.

“C’mon, Kronos, work your magic. Buy us some time!”

Kronos switches to a laser guided missile lock now that the enemy jet is in front. Scott doesn’t see how he does it. He never does. The jet rattles as a set of flares and machine gun bullets fire blindly out to the Whisper. It evades but doesn’t see the missile hidden by the smoke from the flares. The Berezniki jet explodes into an array of shrapnel and fire that falls beneath their wings. Scott dares a short breath of relief.

“Enemy down. Confirmed ejection. We ain’t gonna worry about that one,” Kronos says as he taps on the canopy covering. But that means there’s still one fighter left they can’t see. 

Scott is thrown off balance as it comes down out of the clouds in pure silence. Whisper is an understatement. He rolls the F-30 out of the way of its guns. But before it has a chance to make a second dive at Scott and Kronos, Valentine’s F-30 launches an ambush of missiles.

“Woo boy! Second fucker down!”

“Language, fellas,” Sparrow quips. His voice is all smiles and adrenaline.

“Target thirty meters ahead. Drop bombs when you’ve got a clear shot.” Scott focuses on keeping the F-30 steady as he lowers their altitude to only 100 meters off the ground. He does a flyby and hears a short confirmation that the bombs hit the target from Kronos’ steady aim. That’s half the battle; the other half will be Valentine and Sparrow making the finishing blow with a SEMI.

“Dagger Two, you got a lock?” Scott asks. He can’t look over his shoulder to see if his wingmen are back behind. “Dagger Two?”

“Negative, Preacherman. We’ve-”

Valentine is interrupted by a crunching sound and Sparrow’s uncharacteristically shrill voice. “Third Whisper! Negative radar, visual to right twenty degrees. Hostile, two zero miles, south, track east. Valentine-”

“We’re hit! We’re hit!”

“Shit!” Scott’s instincts take over before his mind can. The Lieutenant General is not going to be happy about his actions, that’s for sure. “We’re coming, Dagger Two! Hold on!”

“Preacherman, I’ve lost sight of the Whisper again. No radar, no clear sight.” Kronos supplies. He flips switches on the paneling to his right. “Negative heat tracking. We’re fighting blind.”

That is not good news. 

Scott shoves the thought in the back of his mind as he races over to cover Valentine and Sparrow. The first two attacks didn’t show all their secrets to the Whispers. There’s a few tricks left up their sleeve yet. He doesn’t speak as their conversation fills the radio waves. Smoke billows out of the back of the F-30 of his wingmen.

“Engine One, on fire. Taking emergency measures!”

“No good! Extinguishers damaged in impact!”

“Fire spreading, lost control of internal combustion rods.” Valentine’s voice is tight.

“Put it out!” Scott snaps over the comm line. 

They’re over the heart of Bereznik’s Tempo Base. There’s a reason this mission was kept hush hush, and a reason they were briefed on the horrid doings of Tempo only after agreeing. The details included learning there would be no possible rescue inbound should they eject. Scott talked to his four brothers last night for an hour over his allotted time. John was suspicious and Scott feels the guilt bubble in his throat now. The fact the higher ups allowed it is enough reason for concern.

The F-30 shakes as the engine erupts. It sends a shockwave through the jet and has her tumbling out of the sky. The smoke turns to a dark black. Scott’s thrown against his seat as he reverses direction to avoid the explosion of their wingmen’s F-30. That smoke can only mean one thing: the fire’s hit the fuel tanks. It’s a worst case scenario for any pilot.

“We’ve gotta eject!”

“Disengage fuel pumps to line four avids. Try to limp her out!”

Scott watches the cockpit of the F-30 fill with flames at the same time the Whisper emerges from the shadows. His eyes widen in terror for his team.

“Eject, eject, eject!”

“Eject now!” Kronos throws in. The fire is spreading.

“Throw the canopy!”

“Eject, eject! I’ve got smoke,” Scott says. His voice is hidden over the sound of Sparrow’s gasp as his seat launches into open air. “Kronos, we’re gonna cover ‘em.”

He dives down where Dagger Two is rapidly losing altitude. The Whisper foregoes Scott’s F-30 and approaches the ejected pilots like a hungry predator. The enemy craft fires a missile in their direction before readying a spray of bullets. The parachutes make for beyond easy targets. Sparrow is desperately holding onto his chute lines as he rips his mask off. Scott whips their fighter between the Bereznik aircraft and his two men. 

The missile loses sight of the broken plane and latches onto Scott’s instead. 

“Fire flares!”

“Flares are out, Preacher! Launching last counter missile.”

Kronos spins around in his seat to ensure the missile is negated. “Out of missiles. We’ve got only 27 rounds of bullets left.”

Scott’s mouth stays shut in a tight line. His eyes track the Whisper screaming through the air in a loop, coming around to target their jet. They can’t just leave the two falling to their demise. But Scott sees no way out. The Whisper jet barely aims in their direction when Scott’s choice is made for him as the F-30 lurches into a tailspin. 

“What the fuck Kronos?!”

“We’ve been hit! Nothing showed up, new tech that-”

“You better use those 27 shots up real quick!” Scott screams as he attempts to pull them out of their tailspin. It’s hopeless. The right side is burned to ashes, not a single remnant of the wing left. Both engines are a sputtering mess of flames and smoke. It starts filtering back into the cockpit. There’s only so much time before their own canopy fills with the same flames that filled Dagger Two’s.

Kronos falters for purchase on the above striped handles. “I’m ejecting us!”

“You will not!”

“Preacher! We’ve got to bail!”

Scott’s not panicking. Fighter pilots don’t panic. He attempts a maneuver to reverse the polarity of their spin. It only increases the speed. Up above the Whisper aims its nose down for the best angle of machine gun bullet fire.

“Scott!”

“Eject!”

That’s all Kronos needs before he’s releasing the canopy top. The force of the wind knocks Scott’s torso down towards his knees. Kronos ejects first. Scott pulls his cord in between his legs and his head whips back as his body is pulled from the flaming wreckage. With no pilot, the F-30 crashes in a blaze alongside its sister ship. 

They were close enough to the ground that the parachutes provide little drag. Scott crashes to the ground and feels the bones in his left ankle grind together. Something snaps. Kronos fares better than he does with landing. His WSO unhooks his parachute gear and runs to Scott’s side to help him.

The Whisper does a flyby. It speeds up and bypasses the pilots. The Berezniki craft fires no more and turns back towards where it came. If Scott wasn’t wearing his helmet, the supersonic blast would have ruptured his ear drums for sure.

“I saw Valentine and Sparrow up ahead. C’mon!” 

“Your ankle?”

Scott tries to stand. He hesitated in his first step with his left foot. Pain shoots through his body. But the adrenaline rush masks the worst of it. “Forget about it! Go! Go, go, go, go!”

He signals to Kronos and they take off in a sprint.

“Find us a way outta here Preacherman!”

He radios into base as they run. The soldiers may be able to triangulate their position if they’re listening in on the frequency. But they won’t get any help staying silent. Either way, Scott and his men are sitting ducks. Calling for reinforcements is their best bet at survival.

“This is India-Romeo-Zero-One transmitting in the blind guard. Scramble standby Dagger Three and Four.”

A pause over the radio. Then static. “Negative Captain Tracy. Enemy is hostile, engaging off target.”

“Send in the A-Tidals. Lucky One is on foxtrot.”

“Negative. Airspace is not under clearance. SAMs are currently engaged.”

“Requiring backup! Dagger One and Two down. Repeat, requiring backup. Dagger One and Two down!”

“Captain Tracy,” the Brigadier General’s voice is cold. Scott didn’t realize he was even in the control room. His word is law and Scott’s waiting with dread for what he has to say. “We cannot send aid. Search and rescue will be locked down until threat is neutralized upon second pass.”

Search and rescue? Scott swears. That old bastard knew this was a suicide mission and sent them in anyways. Scott decides to do his own search and rescue, with emphasis on the rescue part. They continue in the snowy mountains of Bereznik’s countryside, plowing through without a second thought on if any mines may be planted or soldiers lying in wait for ambush.

Sparrow is the first one they find. He’s cut loose from his parachute and running desperately towards them. 

“Wrong direction, Sparrow!” Kronos yells. He makes a sharp cutting motion with his hand parallel to his temple as Scott’s hands are tied up with his radio. The look on Sparrow’s face is worthy of Scott’s pity. 

“You got Valentine with you?”

“No clue… where he’s… at!” Sparrow gasps between breaths.

A round of air strike bombs rings out where Scott and Kronos crashed. Falling bombs fill the air with a backdrop of a beautiful blue sky. The trio is just out of blast range. For now.

Running in the direction opposite of Sparrow proves successful. Valentine is on the ground, one hand around his leg. His parachute is tangled up in the evergreen trees above.

“Valentine!”

The man garbles out some words. Scott catches none of them. He removes the lieutenant’s hands from his leg. They’re coated with blood soaking through the heavy fabric. Scott examines his leg and it’s not a promising sight. One of the bones of his leg has ripped through the skin. A gash in his flight suit from landing shows the whole gory scene. Scott pulls out his knife and hacks away at the tangled parachute lines.

Kronos is right by his side. “It’s no good, the bone’s all stuck out. He’s immobile.”

“You didn’t… have to come back for me… Cap’n…” Valentine gets out with grit. 

“Yes we did. Don’t be stupid,” Scott retorts. Scott points out the only two living humans nearby. “You two! Get him out of here!”

A gunship roars and the air fills with the thundering of military boots on snow. Faint, but ever present. There’s the harsh shout of Berezniki that carries over the tranquil snow drifts.

“Preacher-”

“Captain-”

“That's an order! Do not disobey! There should be an access path in the cliffs some two miles from here. Take him and run as fast as you can. Hide if you’ve got to.”

Scott pulls out his gun from the holster and checks that it’s loaded. The bullets glint in the morning sunlight. He cocks it.

“Here.” Kronos pulls out his own gun and hands it to Scott. It’s a gesture that’s well appreciated. The situation becomes a ton of lead weighing down Scott’s mind. He helps Valentine up onto Kronos’s back and adjusts Sparrow’s gear.

“Write to my brothers, wouldja?”

Kronos knocks his helmet with Scott’s. The words Kronos and Preacherman connect. “I will.”

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He still wasn’t talking. Occasionally it looked as though he wanted to but that flash of panic would cross his face and he’d press his lips together and gaze into the distance.

The doctors said it was just a matter of patience - of waiting for him to be ready. But they’d also said Virgil was ready to go home and they couldn’t have been more wrong about that so in all honesty he had stopped paying them much mind.

Virgil knew his brother could form words because he muttered… pleaded… screamed them in his sleep. Not in a language Virgil could readily understand… he’d borrowed Dad’s phone once when he had stepped out to have a discussion with the consultant and whispered the clearest and most common sound into the translation app - uciec - flee? But the rest were too jumbled and it didn’t recognise his attempts as words.

It was probably better not to know.

But the not knowing clawed at him. How could he help his brother recompose his melody when he didn’t recognise the darker notes in the harmonic line?

Step by step, that’s how. He clung to the faint note of hope that resided in his chest. He had to believe that when Scott started talking it would be ok, that they could work it out together.

But so far the best Virgil could get out of him was when he’d hum along a little as Virgil sang. Sometimes it would match what he was singing, other times not so much. The clearest was when he sang Mom’s lullaby - then the tune was clearly recognisable, if husky and faint.

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It was three in the morning and Virgil had startled awake, heart pounding, as his brother shouted again in his sleep. Within seconds, a nurse was at the bedside checking Scott’s stats, flicking a small torch over his face. After presumably confirming all was well with the machines they paused for a moment to pat a now quietly slumbering Scott on the shoulder before making a swift exit.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Virgil tiptoed across the floor and settled himself in his usual chair by Scott’s right shoulder. Leaning forward on the fall rail, he hummed to calm himself as he made a cursory check of the various readouts. Mostly same as usual: Moderate fever, blood pressure uncomfortable but not too concerning, oxygen sats were ok. So much better than they had been at the start. The maddening beep of the pulse monitor had thankfully been shut off but the gleaming red number betrayed a rate edging on tachycardia. Again, as expected in the immediate aftermath of a nightmare. Which was… a lot of the time.

He watched as it began to tick downwards - 102, 101, 100, 99, 98, 97, 96… 92, 87, 86… it hadn’t been that low yet, he must finally be resting… 84, 82, 80, 79… Virgil’s own galloping heart rate slowed a little too. This was good. This had to be a good sign.

He turned and reached out a hand to stroke Scott’s hair and his heart jumped nearly from his chest as the glow of the monitor screen reflected eerily from the wide dark eyes gazing up at him.

“Hey Scotty.”

His right arm lifted a little and Virgil took his hand and squeezed it. Scott frowned a little as if concentrating and Virgil’s fingers were squished together, just a little, just for a moment.

“Love you too.”

It was hard to tell in the near darkness but there seemed something different in Scott’s wildly dilated eyes. A sense of intent in the tiny muscles surrounding them. As if right now he meant to be looking rather than staring passively.

Virgil did his best reassuring smile and maintained the eye contact as gently as he could. After a little while his brother seemed to sag, exhausted and let his eyes drift closed again. Another little hand squeeze which Virgil returned while brushing the sweaty strands of too long hair from Scott’s cheek.

“You want to get some kip now, Scotty…” the tiny shake of the head rejected the suggestion before Virgil had even finished asking “… or shall we sing a little bit first?” Another squeeze confirmed.

Virgil unlocked the safety rail and shuffled forwards to drape an arm across his big brother’s emaciated chest and rest his head on the overly angular shoulder. Ever so quietly he began to sing her song and relished the sound and feel of the faint hum of accompaniment vibrating in Scott’s throat.

They’d get there they’d get there they’d get there.

A trickle of wetness ran into his hair and he faltered, his throat closing before he could reach the end of the line. He swallowed hard to recover then realised Scott had finished it for him.

“… eee.”

So softly, barely audible but it was there. It was more than a hum it was a vowel sound. The RIGHT vowel sound.

Hardly daring to believe it, Virgil started again:

“You’ll soar through the…”

“… ‘ky”

“Or sail on the…”

“… eee”

“And when you get…”

“…. hhhohh…

“That’s where I shall…”

“.. eee”

Virgil wasn’t sure whether his emotions had stumbled out in the form of giggle or a sob, perhaps somewhere in-between. With a satisfied hum, Scott pressed his cheek into his head and the timid, hopeful note in Virgil’s heart swelled into a triumphant chord of determination.

They were going to go home. Together.

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And yes, the song is written and makes an appearance later.

Previous Chapter

I’m going to repost the series as I read back through it over the next couple of weeks months as it turns out 🥴😖. Actually in order this time (rather than the haphazard way I wrote it) and so I can tidy up all the loose ends and typos I was intending to and also as an exercise in writing short chapter summaries because up to now I have sucked at doing those and want to get better at it!!! I guess my success will be determined by whether anyone clicks read more 😏

The chapter links and their summaries are all below - if nowt else it’s an amusing way for me to see what I’ve put the bros through 🤭

I shall tag it all with #idkry fic repost and #mia fic repost so please feel free to filter either or both of those if you’ve seen it before / don’t want to see stuff that isn’t brand new / just not interested. If it’s annoying, I’m sorry but it’ll be short lived!

For once in my life I’m not going to be all bashful about it - I actually think this story is pretty good (best thing I’ve ever written anyway) and from a very random start it developed in an interesting way and has lots of themes and references and mirrors and all that gubbins that had proper names when I was studying English Lit but I’ve forgotten now. And… well, I’ve had a lot of fun with it.

As always, if you’re reading and you enjoy please do fling a ❤️ on the post - I really don’t subscribe to this passive-aggressive ‘likes don’t count you have to reblog or comment’ business on tumblr - not everyone has time or energy for that and I find the likes beyond encouraging. (Although of course if you do leave a comment I will be over the moon!) This will hopefully push me to get the thing wrapped up - the ending I have planned is quite satisfying I think :)

General series TWs for military, prisoner of war, non-graphic torture, grief, mental health issues, relapse, hospital, section, poor coping strategies, psychosis… but also despite that making it sound really grim the majority of it is a lot of brotherly love, puppy piles, deep talks, hair product headcanons, Kansas, octopus Scott, artist Virgil, the clothing fairy, Grandma being Grandma… not to mention a bit of actual character development (some people might even learn some lessons and try to effect positive change - we can only hope huh boys?)!

All the Tracy boys feature and get a little prodded by my big meanie writing stick, but despite Scott being the one incarcerated at the start of it, it’s dear Virgil who gets the majority of the whacking over the head in this. Kayo is there but doesn’t get a lot of plot (apologies, she just didn’t speak to me much this time).

It starts pretty bleak… if you don’t wanna see poor Scotty in prison camp then skip the first of the stories (Bearded) and start at Presence - there are a fair few imagery references back to the first part later on, which I’m rather proud of, but it isn’t vital plot-wise.

Ok enough rambling… next post I’ll get going!

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Bearded

1. Bearded

Awaiting rescue from the prison camp, Scott tries to maintain a grip on the one thing he has a lot of. He just needs to be patient - someone would come soon, right?

2. Cold

The weather has taken a turn for the worse and Scott is trying not to do the same. Maybe his family can be an anchor in the storm?

3. Disappointment

Scott’s captors try an alternative method of breaking him but he’s not as alone as they think believe he is.

4. Quiet

Scott’s not sure how long, or how much of himself he has left. But something has changed and he just needs to hold on long enough…

Presence

1. Presence

Facing his worst nightmare and a promise he never expected to have to keep, Virgil finds an unusual way to hold on to what he’s lost.

2. Absence

Virgil is trapped. But he isn’t alone. Because there is one person who would never leave him…

3. Divulgence

Virgil is beginning to see more clearly now and finds that everything can make sense even when nothing makes sense. Then a new revelation finally gives him purpose and a plan.

4. Patience

Virgil bides his time. Scotty might be a menace but he’ll never leave him and together they prepare for his greatest mission.

5. Essence

Virgil embarks on the most important (and most dangerous) mission of his life so far.

Composition

1. Da Capo

In music, ‘da capo’ is an instruction to return to the beginning and start again. Virgil thought he knew the melody but this time he can’t seem to reach all the notes.

2. Call

Virgil tries to reach his brother. Where words don’t seem to get through, perhaps there is another language he can use.

3. Response

A call so faithful can’t go unanswered forever. But with Scott’s past and present blending together, can he remember what the answer should be?

4. Poco a Poco Crescendo

Hope is a song in the darkness. Love is the courage to wait until you hear it.

Resurface

1. Reflect

Scott’s finally ready to leave his past buried in the past - but a problem left dormant has a tendency to resurface at the most unexpected moments.

2. React

Virgil is missing. The Tracys discover the wall between comfort and chaos is wafer thin.

3. Realise

Scott finds the things he didn’t know he didn’t know can turn out to be the scariest of them all.

4. Reel

When Virgil loses hold of reality, the Tracy family is at risk of crumbling around him.

5. Return

No matter where Scotty goes, Virgil is determined to follow. Even if the destination is hell on earth…

6. Recoil

Scott finds out that there are worse things than a mere mortal wounding.

7. Reject

Virgil struggles with his anger and his brother’s unfinished business. He’s less than pleased to see a long-lost face return.

8. Remain

Scott has never been good at waiting. He is even worse at being kept in the dark and John knows something he does not.

9. Rebalance

Thousands of miles away, the meaning of big and little is under review.

10. Recall

Virgil is trapped in the darkness with an earworm.

11. Revise

John should be in his element but struggles to compartmentalise as everything slides out of control. Perhaps blocking it all out is a terrible idea after all…

12. Remember

John recounts his worst memory. Virgil is missing his guiding light and Jeff has no roadmap for this at all.

13. Relive

Scott realises the aftershocks of his absence ran further and deeper than he ever knew.

14. Revive

Scott keeps vigil and worries about Virgil. What if, this time, he wakes and everything isn’t the same?

15. Relegate

As Scott makes himself smaller, Gordon has to step up.

16. Regard

Scott tries out John’s usual perspective and discovers he hates it.

17. Redraw

Virgil turns to a familiar tool to help process his emotions but Scott can only watch from afar and long to understand.

18. Reverie

The smotherhen gets a taste of his own medicine but who is administering it?

19. Reveal

Scott demonstrates why his imaginary counterpart is such a bad influence because naturally he’s going somewhere he shouldn’t be…

20. Reason

‘Jeff’ needs to hear some home truths but is Scott ready to receive them?

21. Rely

Baby Earth & Sky embark on an epic adventure. Little Virgil’s worried but the most important lesson life has taught him so far is he can always trust his Scotty.

22. Rescue

Virgil’s sense of his purpose in life crystallises as 11 year old Scott’s physics and construction methods are put under a little strain…

23. Recognise

Scott begins to see more clearly and finds the truth is more painful than he imagined. Virgil is still desperately trying to protect his brother from himself.

24. Repair

Hugs don’t fix everything but a long overdue one might be a small step in the right direction.

25. Regroup

The Tracys finally get some sleep. Secure in their company, Virgil has a farewell to make.

26. Replay

When you get stuck in the deepest depths a wise fish might show you the way to the surface.

27. Resurrect

As Virgil begins to recover, the ripples of his illness start to bounce back towards him. Scott proves he’s learned at least lesson so far.

28. Rend

Two consistent family traits prove to be as toxic as they are admirable: A Tracy always assumes responsibility & A Tracy never forgets.

29. Reassure

Often the right moment to talk comes before you are ready to do it. Virgil realises it isn’t just his little brother who needs to hear and understand.

30. Reposition

Even constantly moving objects must align at some stage. Grandma takes matters into her own hands.

31. Review

As the brothers start to reconnect, Virgil tries to help Scott see the world the way he does.

32. Resolve

For the first time in years, Virgil allows himself to be truly honest.

33. Restless

It’s hard to change the habit of a lifetime.

34. Redux

The storm finally makes landfall, can either Earth or Sky come out the other side unchanged?

35. Reappraise