Thundergeek59

How much fish-suasion did it take to get the big guy to agree to post-rescue Thunderbus Two take out?

Far less than you’d think, @ilikebigshipsandicannotlie is a Tracy, c’mon now.

Thunderfall 10 Ao3 link here

 Regeneration (noun) renewal or restoration of a body, bodily part, or biological system after injury ...

“...nah, that's too cruel to the fish. I say we call the Mechanic and get a new Zero-X together,” Ochre was saying as Blue keyed the door to the Officer’s Lounge and it swished open to let him into the space.

“Well that was a sentence to walk in on. What are we talking about?” Blue asked as he came in, finding his brothers in arms clustered around the central table and deep in conversation. 

“You've watched it?” Magenta asked from his perch on the edge of a chair. ‘It’ didn't need explaining. 

“Yeah.” Adam was quietly surprised by how even his voice was. 

“We're brainstorming things to do to UnNamed,” Ochre explained. “I want to send him on a one-way trip back to the Oort Cloud.” 

“I like that idea. What was the ‘too cruel to the fish’ one?” Blue asked as he diverted around the cluster and got himself a coffee. 

“Throwing him in a tank full of hagfish and letting them eat him alive,” Grey answered with a thin-lipped expression. 

Chapter 4 | 5 | AO3

With thanks to @mariashades for the read-through

~

It didn’t take Scott long to come around but he drifted in and out for a few hours until the anaesthetic fully wore off.

Virgil kept Gordon and Alan under control and ensured that no blackmail pictures or videos were taken. John hooked their equipment up to the monitors and liaised with Kayo as she finished securing the hospital and spoke firstly with Penny and Parker and then with Colonel Casey to inform the GDF what had happened. She then left for the jungle and the mine to meet iR’s London Agent and see if there was anything that could lead them to her uncle.

Once Scott was awake the doctor came and filled him in on his prognosis and as expected he was very disappointed not to be discharged immediately. And despite potentially only being kept in for a few hours the waiting still chafed.

He couldn’t fail to notice Virgil and his Grandma keeping a close eye on him but he ignored it in favour of being entertained by the antics of his youngest two brothers as they tried their hardest to distract him.

They passed the two-hour mark and all was going well. Or so they thought…

Obviously it wasn’t you because Two’s carbon deposits are a well known phenomenon I am confident you and Virg spend a lotta time keeping under control.

This is basically the oneshot "Overwhelmed" but in Scott and Gordon's perspectives rather than Virgil's!

“Next door to your left.” John patiently instructs.

The two former military brothers on field halted in their jog. They turned left and faced the door. They were here.

It was a fortified mahogany door with metal rims. Gordon turned to look at Scott expectantly. In which, the elder brother looked back, and nodded.

Two IR issued boots launch into the door. The impact was loud at it clanged against the wooden floor. Not that they cared because the first thing they noticed when the room opened was the crumpled figure in the corner that jumps out of panic from the noise.

Neither of them could help the gasp at the sight of Virgil. He was covered in white fabric, hands strapped around his waist. Something plastic covering most of his face.

In regret of startling him, they hurried to the corner immediately. Completely unaware of how that only worsened their brother’s panic even more until they watch him kick at floor as if trying to push himself further into the corner.

“Hey, hey. Virge!” Scott knelt closely to Virgil, followed by Gordon beside him.

“Virge, calm down. It’s us!” the younger orders in a softer voice.

There was a quiet sound which could either be registered as a whimper or a muffled scream. Either way, neither of the brothers liked. In an attempt to help, Scott reached out for Virgil’s face, just about brushing the brother’s cheek before he flinches in a thrashing manner and digs back into the corner, feet pushing at the floor to escape.

“Can he hear us?” Gordon asks.

Scott shakes his head. “We need to get that off him if we’re gonna move.” He reaches out again, this time wrapping a hand over a shoulder with a tight grip, forcefully pulling the restrained, panicked brother back into their reach and allowing Gordon to get close enough to unclasp the blindfold.

Except Virgil kept thrashing at his head in muffled panic. So the best that the aquanaut could do was hold the elder still by the shoulders as Scott changed tactics, pulling out suit sheers from his baldric and reaching round the back to snip off the plastic head restraints.

They dropped in an instant. The thrashing followed shortly. Dazed umber eyes rapidly blinked in response. All tense muscles dropped with an inhale through his gaping mouth.

“There you are, Virge. See? It’s us!” Scott smiled and wrapped his arms around the straight jacket to drag Virgil’s body upright. “Let me get the rest of this off.” He leaned closer with his brandished shears as Virgil merely stares befuddled-ly.

“While you’re doing that, we should get rid of those too.” Gordon’s hands reach closer to Virgil’s head, meeting his ears where his fingers met small, noise cancelling ear buds. He dug them out without hesitation which instantly leads to a sudden wince from his brother. “Sorry!” He hisses an apology, then gently, he ass, “can you hear us better, Virgil?”

Virgil could do nothing but stare. It took him a few blinks before he processed the words. When he finally heard them right, he slowly returned one nod.

Noticing the confused, dazed expression on Virgil, Scott exploits the moment to finish snipping off the last bit of seams. The sturdy fabric loosened its hold on their brother within seconds, though Scott forcefully tugged at it anyways to hasten it’s fall from Virgil’s skin. “There you go, Virge.” He reassures after a few pulls at the white canvas. “Think you can stand?” He asks.

The two share glances when the overwhelmed brother doesn’t answer. Choosing to act first, Gordon removed his yellow wrist watch before grabbing at one of Virgil’s arms and pulling up one of his brother’s softer, grey sleeves. The wrist watch hums immediately upon latching onto Virgil’s frail wrist, lowly emitting a holographic light with a loading signal displayed over it.

Scott swiftly stands up, pulling Virgil along with him from under his biceps with the help of Gordon keeping him upright. They held him steadily even upon catching notice of their brother’s awareness returning to them from beyond the fog of his clearing mind.

The yellow watch that Gordon attached to Virgil’s wrist five seconds ago suddenly beeps. Ignoring the confused look on the man, they raise his arm to read the readings.

“Dehydrated, malnourished. No injuries, though.”

Scott hums. “Just disorientation and shock. Honestly should’ve expected this.”

“We can’t take him like this.” Gordon worries.

“Not unless we can get upstairs.” Argues Scott. He taps at his own wrist which reveals holographic blueprints in CAD form. “The roof is only one floor away, could perform an airlift from there.”

“That could work.” The younger then pleadingly turns back to Virgil. “Come on, Virge. Just give us something. It’d help if we had you responsive for this- OOMPH-.”

Gordon had no idea about just how much the fog in Virgil’s brain had cleared until he was attacked by the heavy impact of his big brother who hugged him tightly, albeit not as tightly as he was hoping.

From the sidelines, Scott had a massive grin plastered on his face. He waited patiently for the two to release each other before patting Virgil’s shoulders. “There you are!”

“I still can’t see properly.” Virgil hurriedly says with several eye blinks between words. The three choose to ignore his hoarse voice, only frowning at the said side effects of having been blindfolded.

(HEADCANONS)

Scott - He was third to develop the nasty flu after catching it from Virgil. Goes through about three packs of tissues a day. Keeps trying to get up and do stuff only to be escorted back to bed by Grandma Tracy. Whining while extremely congested with a pounding headache about maintenance that needs doing and paperwork that needs doing. Was still sent back to bed.

John - Was last to become infected. Only came down from his beloved Thunderbird 5 to help out with dealing with 4 ill brothers. Caught it himself less than eight hours later. Its a known fact among the household that John's immune system is the weakest of them all, it always has been, and being in space 24/7 often means he isn't as exposed to certain germs in order to build immunity. So, he became very sick very quickly. Is now curled in bed with a steaming mug of honey and lemon tea.

Virgil - Caught it second while helping deal with Alan. His eyes get all tired and droopy whenever he's ill, more that his brothers. Sounds genuinely pathetic according to Gordon whenever he's sick. Has the loudest sneeze and cough out of them all and genuinely makes everyone jump whenever he does. Like Scott, also wants to carry on with things such as maintenance, but is able to notice his limits and rest, unlike his older brother.

Gordon - Was the fourth to come down as sick. Has lost his voice and is still somehow the most unbearable. If he needs to get something, he'll trudge around the house in squid pyjamas with a blanket wrapped around him, hunched slightly. Sleeps sprawled on top of his covers. His voice when it is there is incredibly scratchy and raspy.

Alan - Was the one who brought the illness home. Got it somewhere somehow and managed to infect the entire household (mostly). Snuggles up in a ball whenever he's ill. Gordon takes multiple pictures and saves it to his dedicated blackmail album in his phone gallery. Alan is known for getting incredibly clingy when ill, he used to cling to their father before the accident with the Zero-X. (This is set pre-'The Long Reach')

Kayo - Mildly ill but nowhere near as bad as the others. Claims they all have 'man-flu'. Does not appreciate having to constantly listen to 5 brothers groan and sneeze at each other. Is considering going and hanging out in Brains' lab, away from everyone.

Grandma Tracy - Is not sick. Never gets sick. Instead, she's attempting to make some soup for the sick residents of the household. A soup which will in fact likely make them sicker if consumed. Apart from the soup, she's caring and attending to everyone's needs and ensuring they stay in bed. Has had the back of her hand against so many foreheads just today that she's lost count. Being a retired doctor, she knows what works and what doesn't.

PUPPY BASKET

A puppy basket. Jeff didn't recall who exactly coined the term - his wife or himself. Or maybe his mother. The point was - with three kids so close in age (and then two more down the line) the flues and colds, and stomach bugs tore through the bunch like a wildfire. There was not enough manpower in the household to keep up with sick boys quarantined in different rooms. So it was just easier and more expedient to stash the sniveling and coughing, and sniffling, and generally miserable puppy ball in the master bedroom. Lucy and himself took shifts sitting vigil, giving meds and fluids, kissing burning up brows. If he were planetside, of course. Later, when the boys' mother was gone, it would be, likely, Scott's room and the elder boys taking up watch hours, while he was busy with grief and work. The one time he came home from New York to find all five boys succumbed to a flu, pretty much delirious in his room, little Alan hoarse from crying - even Scott too weak from fever to call Grandma (and too anxious to call 911 lest child services got a wiff) was a memory he didn't dare revisit often.

He could distantly recall that a feverish Scott would be restless, Virgil would be cuddly, John would be clingy. Gordon would peel off any scrap of clothes on him. Someone would invariably end up upside down with feet propped on the pillow.

That morning got him investigating in Scott's room first thing. Gordon and Alan drew a short straw and were off for a supply run early on (a bright and whistling Gordon and a grumpy half-asleep Alan). Virgil was not expected down this side of 10 am, John was just back from orbit the night before. But Scott never made it to see the Tinies (did they even call the boys that anymore? Alan was starting college in a month!) off, have his run and a morning coffee-cum-strategy session with Dad - something that had become a new, cherished routine for them. The parent alarm in him, that never lay quite dormant even through the endless night of the Oort Cloud, was now blaring full force.

Fair enough, Jeff found his eldest room in an uncharacteristic disarray - a blanket kicked off all the way from the foot of the bed down to the floor, last day clothes scattered on the carpeting - something he came to recognize more as the youngest style, not Scott, who had tried to emulate Dad's military crisp order since he was five and learned to make his own bed. Scott was soon found by his father's increasingly concerned gaze in the middle of the bed, tangled sheets and disheveled curls a testament to a night of tossing and turning, breathing shallow and raspy. Jeff's immediate guess was a nightmare - heaven knows he was no stranger to warding off those, plaguing his boy's naturally light sleep. But a fine sheen of sweat, covering Scott's face and neck, belied a different answer altogether. Jeff wasn't surprised, when the brow he reached for to smooth away the soaked fringe, was burning. Scott wasn't asleep per se - eyes squeezed shut against a headache - but he definitely wasn't alert and present either. Jeff wasn't surprised, but he was getting increasingly panicked. His own mother gave him a semi-clean bill of health and was currently in Kansas, helping a friend out. The time difference made the call tricky. Not impossible, of course, there  was no inconvenience Grandma wouldn't go through for him or his boys, for which Jeff was eternally greatful, but all the more weary to disturb his getting increasingly fragile Ma more, than necessary. Kayo was visiting with her own father, so that was not an option as well. The problem was, with Grandma away, there was no medic on the island. Unless, of course... Jeff remembered Virgil determined and precise with a medscanner, and later - all business and in-trade jibberish with the medical staff at the rehab center he had to spend first months back on Earth at. Despite budding worry, as Scott keened quietly and shifted under his father's soothing touch, Jeff smiled fondly. Virgil was, arguably, the closest to his Grandpa in looks and demeanor, but it appeared he followed his Grandma's professional leanings. He should try and wake Virgil up. Scott was definitely under the weather.

As if on cue, the door opened and a gigantic burrito walked in. Jeff started. The burrito was, upon a closer inspection, a human, barefoot, wrapped up in a blanket head to toe. The walking burrito was also eliciting grunts and a lung-splitting cough. Ouch. The intruder ignored Jeff completely, sidestepped the bundle of clothes on the floor, and collapsed on the bed, next to Scott, wrapping the latter immediately in a cocoon of limbs and blanket, like a cuddle pillow. Scott is restless, Virgil is cuddly... Jeff was beginning to get a bad, bad feeling about it. A quick dive into the fluffy depths of fabric and hair confirmed his fear - Virgil had a fever too. That left...

"John!" - he had to spring from the edge of the bed with speed and agility that would make his physiotherapist proud in time to catch a swaying ginger son from planting face first on the floor. John appeared soundlessly, a ghostly vision, almost translucent where he would normally be pale. A sneeze almost send them both toppling again, but Jeff managed to maintain balance and helped John walk the short distance to the other side of the bed. There was no question how the ginger was going to spend his spiking fever - the moment he climbed onto the mattress, John attached himself to Scott side like a limpet, the way Jeff had only seen Alan do so far. When sick, Scott was restless, Virgil was cuddly, and John was clingy. Well, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Puppy basket is go!

Jeff was halfway through the mental checklist of things he would need to make the logistics of his three eldest sons down for the count work (fluids, medscanner and monitors to keep track of the fevers, ask Brains if the medkits were in the same spots now, call Ma as soon as the time difference would permit, coax, trick and blackmail the boys into cold meds and cough syrup, call Gordon and Alan to stay away for the day and to go fetch Grandma from the farm, make sure Brains was alright and quarantined in his lab and rooms, check himself up, because Jeff needed to be on top of his game for the sick boys - the day and the following night could be tough), when a loud shriek pierced the silence of the room. Scott was frowning and trying the disentangle himself from Virgil's death grip. Jeff reached for his agitated son's shoulder and rubbed a thumb over - in the haze of the fever Scott could get disoriented and start fighting any restraint. Jeff knew the boy would never forgive himself, if he hurt Virgil, even unintentionally. But Scott was not to be easily placated. His face contorted with effort and, likely, a worsened sinus pain, to Jeff's astonishment, the young man grabbed a barely protesting John, lifted him bodily over his own frame, like he was a... well... puppy, and stuffed him into Virgil's arms, that immediately closed the hug around a different brother, as Scott rolled to the side in a sleek stealth maneuver. He would have rolled all the way over the edge of the bed, had Dad's arms not stopped him. That must have computed to the cold addled brain as "safe", since Scott stopped struggling almost immediately and let out a snuffle in a voice Jeff hadn't heard since when the kids' mother was alive. "M'hot", Scott complained without opening his eyes. Jeff reckoned he should probably be more concerned about photosensitivity and the fact any of the boys was yet to notice or acknowledge him. Jeff made an attempt to hoist Scott up against the headrest, but thought better of it as another painful moan escaped. Instead, he sort of rolled the son back to the center of the bed, closer to the pile of other brothers. Scott seemed game for that and shifted to snuggle and spoon against John's back. That elicited a hum and a sneeze from the ginger. Virgil didn't stir. Puppy basket indeed.

Satisfied that Scott was settled for the moment and the other boys seemed to have fallen asleep, Jeff felt confident enough to go looking for the fever vigil supplies and an extra coffee for himself. But he didn't leave before leaning to reach the assorted temples and forheads for the mandatory kiss better and a soft stroke. So sue him, he missed a lot longer than eight years of being their Dad first.

A detour to the infirmary, a chat with Brains, a lot more strained one with Ma and an anxious one with the Tinies later - Jeff was on his way back to Scott's rooms. Gordon and Alan, of course, offered to come back and help with their ailing brothers immediately. But Jeff shuddered at the idea of having all five of the boys sick at once. He was good, but the tenure in space was taking its toll. The youngest boys would be well supervised under Grandma's watchful eye, till it was safe (or absolutely necessary- something Jeff tried not to dwell on) to return to the island.

Coming back Into orbit

The next installment has arrived... sorry, but Scott goes through the wringer with this chapter, and Virgil's pretty close behind him!

Warnings for this chapter: it's a debrief, there's no gory details, but it's pretty intense for mental anguish and breakdown; some remarks about sexual assault and some swearing. Nothing explicit, but you have been warned! Earlier chapters may be found on AO3 here.

Chapter 9 - Debrief

Jeff stood frozen as he took in the sight of his eldest son, cowering in the corner, hands and arms protecting his head as he sobbed and begged.

“P – please don’t… dad… please…”

Don’t what? Jeff thought frowning as he glanced at his mother.  He shrugged his shoulders in confusion.  “I don’t understand,” he whispered to her.  He went to move round the bed to go to his son, but Sally stopped him.

“Give him a minute, Jeff.  Let’s see if he comes out of it on his own.”

“But he’s in distress about something I’ve done.  What have I done?”  He saw the expression on his mother’s face change to one of disbelief.  “What?” he demanded.

She ignored him and concentrated on her grandson who was obviously in great distress, but she had to take her time and not rush in.  She was hoping that Scott would freely divulge the issue.

Scott continued to mumble to himself.  “I – I’m sorry, dad… I’m sor – ry that… that I’m a … a disappointment… I try… try so hard… but it’s… it’s…” his breathing became laboured as he became even more distressed.

Sally glanced at her son and saw his eyes widen.  The muscle in his jaw began to twitch and she wondered—no, hoped—that Jeff had had a lightbulb moment regarding his eldest son.

Jeff moved swiftly round the bed to kneel next to his sobbing son.  “Scotty, son… it’s okay, I know it’s hard,” he began.

Sally’s shoulders drooped in dismay.  The penny hadn’t dropped at all.  She felt like pulling her hair out, or cuffing her son round the head to knock some sense into him, but her immediate concern was for her grandson.  It was clear from what he was sort of saying that he felt he was a disappointment to his father, that he was never good enough and that was so far from the truth.  Scott had beaten all his dad’s records in the Air Force.  That alone should have been enough to  make his father proud of him, let alone reaching the rank of Captain by the age of 22, two years ahead of his father.

“He can’t do the debrief tomorrow,” Jeff muttered and Sally was inclined to agree, although if Scott was forced, it could be the step to breaking him, so he could be rebuilt or, it could all go horribly wrong and… she didn’t want to go down that path at all.  At the end of the day, Scott was incredibly strong mentally, even if he didn’t feel it at this precise moment, and he was recovering at least physically.  If they could get him over this next hurdle without too much further damage, he could start to heal mentally as well, and be more prepared for the war crimes trial that was currently being put together.  She had no doubt he would be called upon to give further evidence.

“Jeff, step away, let me near him,” Sally ordered, and her stare as her son looked up at her was enough to make him do as he was told.  She took his place, knees complaining slightly as she got down on the floor next to her grandson and began to talk calmly and quietly, and gently laid a hand  on his leg.  “Hey, Scotty.  It’s grandma.  I’m here, kiddo; you’re safe in the hospital…”  She kept talking to him, patting his leg gently.

It took several minutes, then his hold on his head began to relax slightly. “G’ma?” he queried in a whisper.

“Yes Scotty.  It’s me.  I’m right here with you.  Come on, kiddo, let me give you a proper hug, eh?”

More minutes passed, then Scott gradually began to uncurl his lanky form and moved to melt against his grandmother, folding into her as her hug tightened around him.

“There you go.  That’s much better now, isn’t it?  Your safe with me, Scotty.”

“Yeah, G’ma.  Safe.”

Jeff looked on from a little distance away, unsure what to think about the situation.  Sure, he’d crashed on the island when he’d been in the Air Force; busted his leg pretty good too.  He’d also had his SERE’s training, but he’d never had to put it to the test like his son had, so that was something else Scott had over him.  He became lost in his own thoughts for a moment, until Scott’s next words brought him back to reality with a bump.

“G’ma?”

“Yes, Scotty?”

“D’you think… dad… dad will ever be… will I ever be… be good enough?”

Sally glanced up sharply at Jeff and raised a questioning eyebrow, as if to say, well, will he? She returned her attention to her grandson.  “Oh Scotty, you are more than good enough.  Never doubt that my boy.  I’m so very proud of you.  Of the man you have become, of your achievements.  I’m fit to burst with pride.”

“He… he’s not…”  Fresh tears started.

Jeff went to protest, but Sally silenced him with another look.  Scott was upset and disorientated.  Jeff’s words wouldn’t mean anything to him in his current mental state.  They needed to be said when Scott was calm, relaxed and more cognisant.

“Oh Scotty, I know he’s never said it, but I’m sure he is very proud of you.”

She wasn’t sure if her words had gotten through to him or not, but she realised he was becoming very heavy.

“Scotty?”

“Tired,” he came back with.

She waited a few more minutes until Scott had totally relaxed, then indicated for Jeff to come and lift Scott back onto his bed, which he did; moving slowly and carefully so as not to wake him.

“What did he mean, I’m not?  Not what?”

“Oh Jeff, for a smart man, you can be incredibly stupid!” Sally hissed.  “All Scott ever wanted from you, was to obtain your approval and hear that you’re proud of him, and you’ve never done either of those things.  All you’ve done is push him harder and harder.  Nothing he does is good enough for you.”

“That’s not true!” Jeff objected.  “I am proud of him; he has my approval—”

“And when did you actually tell him this?” she interrupted.

Jeff opened his mouth, and it hung open as he searched his brain for an answer and found he didn’t have one.  “He’s my first born, he has to be tough if he’s going to take over from me eventually,” he finally answered.  “I have to prepare him for every eventuality.  It’s a brutal world out there.”

“You think he doesn’t know that?” Sally snapped back.  “Look at him, Jeff!  Look at your son and what he’s been through, what he’s suffered!  Right now, he needs his father to love him, to put his mind at ease, that he’s not a disappointment to him.”

“He’s not a disappointment!”

“Then tell him that!  He’s hurting.  You’re hurting him, son.  Don’t you think he’s been hurt enough?”

Jeff bristled with the pain that everything his mother had said to him was true.  “I – I…” he began, then abruptly turned on a heel and walked out.  Sally’s shoulders slumped.  It was going to be a long night.

o0o

Virgil was livid with the lid off when he found out about the debrief.  “No!  No they can’t!” he raged at his dad the following morning.  “He’s not ready for it!”

“Will he ever be ready?” Jeff countered.  “Perhaps it would be for the better if we get it over and done with, then we can really concentrate on helping Scott get well.  Remember, if the war crimes trial takes place, he could well be required to give evidence there and that will be in front of a larger number of people.  We can help prepare him for that.”

Virgil steamed silently.  He saw the point, but having seen the state Scott had gotten into at the interview, he was absolutely dreading the debriefing.  “I want to be there with him,” he finally said.

“Virgil, it’s a military debrief, they may not let you.”

“Well, they can’t court martial me for trying to be there!  What time is it due to start?”

“10:00 am.”

“That’s in 90 minutes time!  Who’s with him at the moment?  Grandma?”

“Yes.”

“Right, let’s get going!”

“Virgil… breakfast?”

“I’ll grab something on the way!”

When they got to Scott’s room, Sally was standing outside and told them Scott was up and now she was going back to the room for some decent sleep.  He’d had a reasonable night—not perfect—but he had managed to get about 4 hours sleep.  When they went in, they found him dressed in an Air Force t-shirt and fatigues and sitting at the small table in the room.  Sally had given him a shave and combed his rather unruly hair into some semblance of order, but the front was long enough to keep flopping over into his right eye.  He looked a little more like his old self, but the hollow gauntness of his face and the fact the t-shirt swamped him slightly indicated he was far from how he should look.

“Scotty,” Virgil breathed, remembering to approach him slowly.  “Hey bro, beginning to look pretty good,” he enthused.  “May I?”  He indicated he wanted to give him a hug.  Scott nodded.

“Hey Virg,” Scott replied quietly as his younger brother enfolded him carefully in his arms.  “Thanks for coming.”  There was a slight waver in his voice, and Virgil knew immediately he was feeling apprehensive about the forthcoming meeting.

“I’ll see you through this, Scotty.  I swear.  You and me together, bro.”  He continued to hug him until there was a knock on the door.  It was 9:45 am.

“Come in,” Jeff said and the door opened to admit Alistair Lowe; Scott’s therapist.

He introduced himself to the rest of the family, then asked Scott for permission to approach and sit down, which the Air Force captain nodded to.

“Captain Tracy, I’m here to ensure your welfare during this debriefing.  If at any time you need it to stop, just say.  I have the authority to make that happen, okay?  No one is here to make a judgement; it is purely a fact finding debrief of your side of the mission and… what happened whilst you were held captive in—”

“Don’t say the word!” Virgill snapped, laying a soothing hand on Scott’s knee.

“Very well.  I will brief Colonel Henderson and Major Clarke to that effect.  Water will be arriving shortly.  Is there anything else you need?”

“I – I want my brother to stay.”

“This is a military matter—”

“I stay, or the debrief doesn’t happen,” Virgil interrupted.  He stood up at that point, in a show of strength, his broad frame taking on a somewhat threatening stature.  “You say you are here to ensure my brother’s welfare?  Well, part of his welfare is that I stay.”

“Virgil,” Jeff began.

“No dad.  Scott isn’t well enough for this debrief, but they are insisting, so they will agree to this, or it’s not happening.  And that’s final.”

Scott grasped his brother’s hand, feeling a little choked at how his brother was standing up for him, in a complete role reversal, when Scott had stood up to bullies who had been giving his little brother a hard time at school.  It was a silent ‘thank you,’ from him.

Lowe finally nodded.

There was another knock at the door.  It was a member of the catering staff with a large jug of water and some glasses, which she placed on the table.  Some more chairs arrived and then, just before 10:00, Scott’s CO and the JAG team arrived.

Captain Tracy struggled to his feet to salute them.  Virgil steadied him as he wavered slightly but still managed to see the shock on Henderson’s face at his brother’s appearance before he masked it.

The officers all returned the salute, then Henderson spoke up.  “At ease, Tracy.  Sit down before you fall down.”  He gave a small smile.  “Good to see you, son.”  He held out his hand which Scott shook before partially collapsing back onto his chair.  Henderson looked at all those present.  “Colonel Tracy,” he said, shaking Jeff’s hand.  “You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, and so are you,” Jeff responded.

“And who are you, young man?”

“Virgil Tracy, one of Scott’s younger brothers.”

Henderson immediately picked up on the lack of ‘Sir’ following his reply.

“You’re not military, are you?”

“No Colonel, I’m not, but I’m not leaving my brother’s side.  I can keep my mouth shut.”

Henderson noted the familiar look of fire in the eyes of the young man.  With that expression, there was no doubting the two men were related and very much Jefferson Tracy’s sons.

“Very well.  I believe you already know Major Clarke and Lt Pearson?  Lt Lowe has already introduced himself.  Shall we get this show on the road so we can let Captain Tracy rest and recover?”

Everyone took a seat, apart from Jeff, who moved back to perch on the bed.  Virgil glanced at him, then at Scott, who stiffened, then sighed and shrugged slightly.  He was a disappointment to his father, he knew that, so he might as well let him hear the whole sorry story so he would know just how big a disappointment he was.

Lt Pearson was recording the proceedings once again.

The debrief was called to order, a role call was done, then Henderson spoke.  “Captain Tracy, we have the debrief from the rest of your squadron, but we need to hear your side of things.  I know it was a few months ago, but see if you can remember as much as you can about the mission.  Now, the drop was successful and you were on your way back to friendly airspace.”

Scott took a sip of water before starting to talk.  No one said anything about noticing that his hand was shaking slightly.

“Yes sir.  We were about 100 miles from friendly air space, which equated to around 11 minutes at the speed of the transport.  I remember asking my squadron to keep their eyes peeled, and asked if Rescue 1—the transport plane—could get any more speed out of his crate and they agreed to redline their engines for that time.

“I think a couple of minutes passed, then my navigator reported bandits approaching from the east at 30,000 feet, Mach er… 1.7 and I ordered the squadron to prepare to engage, but no firing until the enemy did.  I told Rescue 1 to keep heading for the border and that we’d do our best to keep the fighters away from them.”

“Can you remember how many enemy fighters, Captain?” Henderson asked.

Scott paused to take another sip of water.

“It was 24, sir.  We shadowed them and then I think we were about five minutes from the border when they broke formation and attacked and fired on us.  So I ordered my squad to break, gain height and keep them off the transport and engage.  I shot one down, then Hawk got two on his tail as did I, so we played chicken.  That got rid of another four.  The rest of the squad were engaging and managed some hits.  My squad had a couple of hits, but they were able to limp back home.  I remember glancing at my watch and saw we were two minutes out.  Vulture had 3 fighters on his tail, I got one and damaged another, and by then Rescue 1 reached friendly air space, so I told my squad to run for home…”  He paused and swallowed, took a deep breath and carried on.  “That was when my plane was hit.  Raven screamed; said he was bleeding pretty badly and that he… he couldn’t feel his legs.”

Beside him, Virgil placed a hand on his thigh for support.

“My plane started spluttering, but I kept heading for the border, and then the engine gave out.  My wingman told me he was leading the squad back to assist, but I ordered them to stay away.  Hawk said I was breaking up and carried on coming.  I was losing height and speed fast and knew we had to bail out.  I ordered my navigator to blow the canopy, but then he told me there was a town ahead and if we did, we’d hit it and kill civilians, so I told him to bail out and I’d make sure the plane missed the town, only his canopy release failed.  I let Hawk know and the squad stayed with me as long as possible but their fuel was running out so I told them to go.  Hawk said he’d be back as soon as he refuelled.”

Scott stopped for a number of seconds.

“Please continue, Captain, you’re doing fine,” Henderson encouraged.

Scott swallowed and then took a couple more sips of water.  His throat was suddenly becoming very dry.

“I – I spied a wood in the distance and hoped to get as close as possible so we could attempt to hide in there, but we crashed about a mile short of it which I think put us 5 miles from the border.  I think I was knocked unconscious, but I’m not sure how long for.  All I knew was we had to get out and try and make a run for it, as there’d be people from the town coming to investigate.  I blew my canopy, and then wrestled Raven’s.  He was out cold, so I dragged him from the plane, heaved him over my shoulder and started walking.  I didn’t get very far before a vehicle arrived.  I was told to halt or they’d fire, but I kept going and… and they shot me in the leg and we went down.  I got to my knees, and was kicked in the side.

“Raven was coming round and moaning in pain.  I tried to reach for him, but was dragged some distance away.  An officer grasped my chin and welcomed me to… to his country and asked me if they should shoot me as a spy.  I guess I smart mouthed him by saying he couldn’t do that because I was in uniform, and got a rifle butt in my gut. Two guards dragged me to my feet and asked if Raven was my navigator.  I asked them to help him as per the Geneva Convention and received another blow in the gut.  Another couple of guards dragged him to his feet, and he was screaming in agony.  I – I tried to reach him but… the Captain of the guard took out his sidearm and… and…” Scott gave a choked half cry, half sob.

“Captain Tracy, are you all right?” Lowe asked him, as he watched Scott’s breathing become ragged.  He looked at Henderson and the JAG team.  “Give him a minute,” he said.

They waited patiently for Scott to continue.

“They… they shot him in the head,” he finally managed to get out.  “They… they knocked me out.  I don’t know what… what happened to Raven.  I woke up in a small dark cell, I think it was two days later after the guards beat the living daylights out of me… I… everything hurt.”

Scott went silent.  Virgil reached for his hand under the table and squeezed it firmly.

It was all quiet for a couple of minutes before Henderson spoke up again.  “Thank you, Captain Tracy.  Your account matches that given by your squadron, and thank you for filling in the gaps I… I know it must have been exceedingly painful to recount that final part.  Let’s take a five minute break, then we’ll proceed with the details of the internment in the camp.”

Virgil placed his other hand on Scott’s back and began to gently rub circles there.  “You’re doing okay,” he whispered to him.  “I’m right here, Scotty, okay?  Lean on me, take my strength.”  He gave Scott’s hand another squeeze and was rewarded by the slightest of nods.  “Get some more water down you.”  Virgil let go of his hand temporarily whilst he refilled the glass and put it closer to his brother, then held his hand again.

In the end they stretched the break to ten minutes, but it still went far too quickly for Scott’s liking.  Major Clarke cleared his throat.

“Captain Tracy, you kindly identified some prisoners for me the other day, and confirmed that it was Colonel Mendelski in charge of the camp you were interned in.”  He paused, and Virgil couldn’t help himself.

“Have you got the bastard in custody?” he asked.

Clarke jumped at the sudden outburst, but recovered and shook his head.  “No.  Unfortunately Colonel Mendelski is still at large and appears to have gone to ground.  Spectrum are continuing their search for him.”

Virgil gave a snort of disgust, fidgeted, then settled down again, knowing that he now had to main control of his emotions for his brother’s sake, because this was going to be dark and downright ugly.

“Captain Tracy, would you tell us what food and water was like, please,” Clarke began, deciding it would be safer to start on a subject that wouldn’t inflict to much suffering on the young captain.

“I – I didn’t get anything for the first two days,” Scott replied quietly.

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing.”

“When did you get your first nourishment?”

Scott managed a snort at that sentence.  “If you can call it that,” he replied in disdain.  “They must have had someone spying on me, or listening out, because when I regained consciousness, they dragged me out of my cell into a really bright room.  I was sat in a chair and handcuffed to it.”  He paused and swallowed.  “That’s… that’s when I first met… him.”

“Him?  As in Mendelski?”

Scott nodded, then remembered that he had to speak for the record.  “Yes sir.”

“What and you tell us about him.  Anything you can remember that may help us find him.  How tall he is; his mannerisms, anything at all.”

“He’s about six two; broad shouldered, that photo was pretty accurate and he’s… and he’s a sick perverted bastard!”  He was aware of Virgil’s hand tightening on his and was thankful for it.

“What can you remember of the conversation?”

Scott winced at the memory.  “Er…” He’d never forget it.  He swallowed.  “He was looking forward to having a ‘little chat’ as he put it and then asked if I’d heard of him.  I had, but I decided to say I hadn’t, and for a second I thought he was going to use his swagger stick on me, but he didn’t… at least not at that point.  He had… he had a complete file on me.  Whose son I was, my medals… stuff he shouldn’t have known.”  He paused and swallowed, shut his eyes for a couple of seconds, took yet another sip of water as if to gather his courage and carried on.  “Then… then he told me I was handsome and where I got my looks from.”  He glanced briefly at his father then picked a spot on the small table to stare at.  “Then he… he grasped my chin and forced me to look up at him and told me it would be a pity to mar such beauty.”

Beside him, he felt Virgil stiffen and this time it was he who squeezed his younger brother’s hand to keep him calm.

“I jerked my head back as he attempted to run a finger down my cheek, then he shoved his swagger stick hard under my chin to force my head back further and said he could be kind and considerate, then called me Scott as we were going to become very good friends.  The swagger stick wandered downwards towards my groin.”  He stopped and shuddered at the memory.  “I fell back on my SERE training with name, rank and service number and he rammed that swagger stick into my midriff and winded me and he said he enjoyed a challenge but would be generous as it was our first meeting and I should think about my position.  He even mentioned about asking dad if he would be willing to pay for my freedom.”

He sensed rather than saw his father stiffen and straighten up at that remark.

“He ordered me to be seen by the doctor, so they took me to their infirmary.  I had to strip, shower and then the doctor fixed me up, gave me some antibiotics.  He came in before I had a chance to get dressed and was eyeing me all the time whilst I got back into my flight suit and made some uncomfortable remarks.”  Colour flooded his pale skin as he remembered and thankfully, Clarke didn’t ask about them.  The major had taken one look at Scott’s heightened colour and drew his own conclusions.  He had heard about Mendelski’s preference for beautiful men from other prisoners.

“Once I was dressed, they took me back to my cell.  There was watery slop of a stew and a cup of water waiting for me.”

“How often did they feed you?”

“Once a day, if I was lucky.  Some days, after an interrogation had finished, I… I couldn’t move to reach it; I was either in too much pain or too weak from what they’d subjected me to.”

“What about hygiene?” Clarke asked.

“A damp, dirty mattress to sleep on and a bucket in the corner.”

“Nothing else?  No blankets?  No washing facilities?”

“No.  Although every now and again when I was strung up naked, they’d turn a hose on me and blast me with freezing water and leave me to dry if I started bleeding too much.”

“Captain, I’d now like you to describe what was done to you,” Clarke said softly.  “Are you able to do that?”  He gave the airman a look of compassion, but not pity as Scott winced, did nothing for a number of seconds, then gave a jerky nod.

“I – I c – can do that, but it’s going to be all mixed up.  They… they came for me at all times of the day and night.  I quickly lost track of time; never saw daylight. Stuff might not be in the right order because they drugged me and beat me.  Stripped me, suspended me from a hook so my toes could hardly touch the floor… used a cattle prod on me, hit me with sticks, c – cut me, punched me, broke my bones, strangled me… tied… tied me to… to a table, gagged me, put a cloth bag over my head and waterboarded me, or they’d hold my head down in a tub of water and let me almost drown… they liked that one… to hear me coughing and trying to expel the water before putting me under again and again.  They liked to be… inventive… I never knew what they were going to do to me next.”

Scott was breathing heavily.  On his other side, Lowe ran a scanner over him, then whispered quietly to him.  A muscle in Scott’s jaw twitched and he shook his head, keeping his eyes averted from everyone.

“Lieutenant?” Clarke asked the therapist.

“I was asking the Captain if he wanted another break, sir.  I’ve checked his vitals; his heartrate is highly elevated and oxygen sat is lower than I’d like, but he’s insisting on carrying on.”

“Very well.  But Captain, you must tell us if you need a rest, all right?”

Scott managed a feeble nod.

“What information were they after?”

“At first it was the normal stuff… strength of foreign forces, how we operated, what spies were in the country, our plans to invade B – B – their country.”

“Can you explain what you mean by ‘at first?’”

“Those questions went on… I don’t know how long.  The pain got so bad, I told them a pack of lies to get some relief… but that… that backfired on me and…” he tried to suppress a sob at the memory. “They beat me so badly I… I thought I was going to die… I… I even wished I had.  Then, then they gagged me and waterboarded me and somehow still expected me to give them information, but I couldn’t.  The gag prevented me from saying anything.  They stopped asking questions towards the end; just carried on torturing me because they could.  I remember… a guard… whispering… if I let him ram his cock up my sweet ass it would all stop.”

“When you say ‘him,’ you’re referring to Mendelski?”

Scott answering nod was somewhat jerky.

“But you didn’t.”

“N – no… but I… I…”

The scanner emitted an alarm and flashed red.  Lowe placed a hand on Scott’s arm.  “Steady, Captain.  It’s all right.  We can stop.  No one wants to distress you too much.”

Scott shook his head.  “I – I considered it for… for about a millisecond and realised he’d throw it back in my face.  That bastard wanted me to crawl to him and offer myself to him.  He even told me he wouldn’t hurt me anymore because there were plenty of other soldiers they could work on.  I – I couldn’t let that happen.”

“And where was Mendelski whilst you were being interrogated?”

“A lot of the time he was there, watching, a smile on his face.”  Scott’s face contorted at the memory.  He shuddered as he remembered the colonel ogling his naked body.

“I’m sorry Captain, I have to ask you this… was watching all he did?”

Scott hunched up at that question.  “You know what he did!” he almost screamed back.  “But… but if you want the sordid details, he – he ran his hands over my body, touched me intimately, trying to get… get my body to… to respond to… to him; licked me, whispered obscenities in my ear, describing what he’d like to do to me and attempted to kiss me whilst the guards looked on, grinning and laughing!  I fought… I fought so hard, but I couldn’t… couldn’t stop… stop him!”

With surprising speed and agility, Scott threw himself from his chair and into a corner curling up into a ball, rocking, trying not to break down totally.  Lowe immediately stood up.

“Enough!” he said to Clarke.  “We’ll take a 30 minute break!”

Lowe stopped Virgil from rushing to his brother.

“Slowly!” he ordered.  “He’s not in a good place right now.  It’s good it’s coming out, but we have to move slowly.  He needs you.  Talk to him softly and approach slowly.  I think he’ll prefer to have you close rather than me.”

Virgil managed to get a grip on his own emotions and nodded slowly.  The lullaby left his lips softly, but the notes wavered slightly.

Henderson looked round and saw the pained expression on Jeff’s face knowing it probably matched his own.  Captain Tracy had been missing for 13 weeks; been at the mercy of that pervert for all that time; day in day out; never knowing what was going to happen to him next.  He was his best pilot and he hoped the young man he had grown to admire and tried to protect wasn’t broken beyond the ability for the professionals and his own family to fix.  The Colonel felt sick to his stomach after hearing his testimony and it wasn’t over yet.  When this debrief was finished, he was going to get drunk to try and wash away the memories of what Scott had stated; of the pain he had endured.

Jeff desperately wanted to go to his son; wrap him in cotton wool and whisk him away to the island; to safety.  He knew his son had been assaulted, but he hadn’t realised to what extent; and his one small comfort was that he hadn’t been raped.

It took Virgil 17 minutes before he was able to wrap his brother in a much needed hug.  Henderson and Pearson had left the room for some fresh air; Clarke went to Jeff and spoke to him.

“I am truly sorry we are having to put Scott through this interview,” he began.  “Your son is a remarkable young man.  I know he may not feel that way, but the information he has provided has been of more use than many other interviews I have carried out recently.  It will go a long way to getting convictions against those who have committed these crimes and serve the justice deserved.  Perhaps it will even help to prevent this kind of thing happening in the future.”

“All my son wanted to do was help people.  Flying escort to the relief aid was his best way of doing this and for what?  To be shot down, to be tortured by those he was trying to help.”  Jeff stopped and took a couple of deep breaths.  “I’m sorry if I sound bitter… but I am.  There isn’t an ounce of malice or arrogance in that boy’s body.  He didn’t deserve what happened to him; none of those prisoners did.”

“Then let us hope and pray that his testimony will go towards stopping it happening again in the future.”

In the end, they broke for over an hour, getting some lunch, although Scott refused to eat anything despite Virgil’s best attempts to get him to have even a bite of a sandwich.  The only thing he did manage was to get Scott back on his chair.

Major Clarke approached him and spoke softly.  “Captain, you have done extremely well, and on behalf of everyone present I thank you.  We are almost finished here.  Do you think you will be able to continue today?”

Scott had finally stopped trembling, but he was extremely embarrassed about his conduct during the interview.

“May I call you Scott?” Clarke asked, and gave a gentle smile as the Captain nodded.  “Scott, you have conducted yourself with honour.  I am truly sorry I had to ask some of those most probing questions, but they are required, if we are to bring justice for prisoners like yourself.  You have absolutely no reason to be embarrassed about anything that has gone on here today, do you understand me?  You survived in the most dire of circumstances for which your family is eternally grateful.  Now, will it be all right if we begin in five minutes?”

Scott nodded again, but still said nothing.  Clarke thanked him and returned to his seat.  Virgil and Lowe returned to Scott’s side; the former giving him a hug and whispering in his ear that he was so proud of him for being able to divulge the information.

A couple of minutes later Henderson, Pearson and Jeff reappeared and took their places.

“Note, we are reconvening at 15:00.  Captain Tracy, when I originally showed you the photographs of the… camp officers, you pointed to one and said he was innocent.  Please will you expand on that answer.”

“I – I never knew his name,” Scott almost whispered.  “But if he was one of the guards to escort me back to my cell, he never pushed me through the door; he always led me in and if I was in a really bad shape, he’d make sure he put me on the mattress, and that the food and water were in reach.  The final time I saw him, he apologised and said not everyone was in favour of the war; that he wasn’t a bad man, but that he had to try and protect his family.  He hoped that I would remember that not everyone had treated me harshly.  I don’t know if he was like this with everyone, but he was with me.  I hope the other guards didn’t treat him badly because of the attitude he displayed towards me.  I ask that he does not stand trial.”

“That will be so noted,” Clarke said.  “Now, I have your medical record as part of the evidence.  I am not going to read the list of injuries out, but is it true to say that towards the end you were extremely ill—dying in fact?”

Scott again took a deep breath.  “I – I don’t know how many weeks passed before I…” he paused, uncertain.  Virgil squeezed his hand once again and it gave him the courage to continue to say what he had to.  “Before they… they broke me and I gave up.  Apart from the physical torture, they had also been mentally abusing me, telling me I was a disappointment to the Air Force, to my family; that no one would come for me, that they would break me and I would die here, alone and be forgotten.  I ignored it at first… when I still had fight left in me, but after I don’t know how long, I guess I… I started to believe them and I… I gave up, resigned to the fact that I was going to die.”  Those present almost didn’t hear his last few words he had spoken them so quietly.  Next to him, he felt Virgil stiffen and attempt to stifle a sob.  He turned to him.  “I – I’m sorry, Virgil… but I’d… I’d reached rock bottom.  Apart from the physical injuries, I knew I was really ill, which I now know was the double pneumonia starting.  Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, and I think I finally succumbed and fell into a coma.”  He stopped and swallowed, then with a shaky hand took another few sips of water.

“I somehow was aware that he visited me, but I can’t remember what he said; I was burning up by then, but I remember opening my eyes and seeing him pointing a gun at my head, and I asked forgiveness from my family, and for them not to forget me.  He was going to shoot me, but I think he misunderstood my final word.  I uttered ‘please,’ but I wasn’t pleading for him to put me out of my misery, I was asking my family not to forget me.

“He did fire his weapon, I remember it making me jump, but he didn’t fire it at me.  He must have left then, and I don’t remember anything else after that point until I woke up here.”

He turned to his brother and threw his arms around him, and they sobbed in one another’s arms as Scott kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You – you have nothing to apologise for, Scotty.  I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner.  We let you down, I’m sorry!”

“It’s not your fault Virgil.  Please don’t blame yourself.”

Clarke cleared his throat.  “Captain Tracy, thank you for your testimony.  I have one final question for you.  How are you feeling now?”

Scott released his brother and turned in his chair to face the JAG officer.  “I’m healing slowly.  I – I admit I was shocked when I saw myself in a mirror, I – I didn’t recognise myself… and the scars…” his voice trailed off.

“And mentally?”

The pilot flinched violently.  “I’m fine.”

His father and Virgil also flinched violently at that response.  The standard Scott Tracy answer; a lie most of the time.  He could be bleeding out and he’d say he was fine so as not to worry them.

“Captain, we both know… as do the rest of your family, going by their reaction to your reply, that that isn’t the truth, is it?”

The expression in his eyes gave him away.  He’d been well and truly caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Lt Lowe, how have your sessions with Captain Tracy gone so far?”

“They haven’t, Major.  Captain Tracy has refused to talk about his experience.  This is the first time he has spoken… openly about it, which is a good thing, but…”

“But?” Clarke prompted.

“I know every case has to be assessed individually, but going from my experience with other recovered prisoners, I would say there will be feelings of self-loathing, shame, failure, doubt that he will recover…”  There was a long pause.  “There is even the chance he considers suicide so that he can be at peace.”

Virgil had expected a vehement denial to pass his brother’s lips, but instead he simply hung his head in shame and remained quiet.

“Scotty!” Virgil hissed.  “Tell them it’s not true!  You’d never leave us, not like that!  We love you, and you love us too much to contemplate doing something like that!”

The silence stretched on.  Jeff was looking horrified as he attempted to come to terms that the fact his eldest son was contemplating terminating his life so he could be at peace.  Even Henderson had sat up and paid attention.

“I think Captain Tracy’s silence answers the question from his brother,” Lowe said eventually.

“Is that question really relevant for this interview?” Jeff interjected.  “Surely, this is a medical discussion not a debriefing one.”

“Colonel, this must also be added into the equation.  Ex-prisoners will be subject to PTSD, bouts of depression.  This is a documented fact that must be taken into account at the war crimes trial,” Clarke said.  “However painful it is to hear, PTSD and suicides is high in those that have been subjected to conditions such as Captain Tracy and the other prisoners have suffered.”

“You’re not planning on putting my son in an institution, I hope?” Jeff came back with.

“Not necessarily,” Lowe said.  “But we will need to ensure his safety and the safety of those around him.”

“I want to go home!” Scott suddenly exploded.  “Please!  Just let me go home!”  He sagged against his brother, suddenly exhausted.  “I’m tired… and I want to go home…”

Virgil suddenly grabbed hold of him before he collapsed completely.  “Scotty!” he exclaimed as his brother’s eyes closed.

Lowe quickly brought the scanner he carried to bear and ran it over Scott’s prone form. “I’m not the medic here, but I believe he’s suffering from exhaustion.  It’s been a long day for him.  Let’s get him on his bed.”  He looked at Clarke.  “Are we done here, Major?”

“We are.  Debrief terminated at… 16:30.  Thank you everyone.”  Clarke turned to Jeff who was assisting Virgil in getting Scott onto his bed.  “Colonel, I’m sorry we’ve exhausted your son during this debrief.  He should not be bothered again… at least until the trial.  Thank you for your cooperation.”

The officers packed up their equipment, offered their best wishes and left quietly.  Henderson stepped to Scott’s bedside and took a few moments to look down at his unconscious form.

“I hope he’ll be all right, Jeff.  He’s an incredibly strong individual.”

“I think if I can get him home and surrounded by his family he’ll be okay eventually,” Jeff finally replied.

“I really do hope so, I can’t afford to lose men like him.  He’s an exceptional pilot and leader.  You should be so proud of him.”

Jeff took a sharp intake of breath.  He was proud of his son, but he still hadn’t told him that he was.

Henderson caught the emotion but said nothing.  “I’m sorry I had to see you again in these circumstances.  Look after him.”  They shook hands, then he turned to Virgil.  “You’re a good brother, Virgil.  Look after him too.”

“We all will, Colonel,” Virgil said firmly, as they also shook hands.

“I’m sure you will.  I’m sure you will.”

Farmer Tracys Part One | Two

With thanks to @edutainer2022 for the suggestion based on this picture and @the-original-sineater and @mariashades

~

The rest of the week was full on.

The ploughing competition was on Saturday so there were only two days left to ensure everything was ready.

Virgil and Brains spent most of the time in the big barn with Bertha. Their big old Deere had been a mainstay of the farm for years but she didn’t look like she had when Grandpa Grant had bought her new.

First Virgil and then later their live-in friend and fellow engineer Hiram Hackenbacker, mostly called Brains for ease, had tinkered and played and now Bertha was a monster with a turn of speed that was frankly unnatural for a tractor…