Yes, I'm back again, with another story kindly inspired by Sailor Centauri.

This will be made up of four chapters, each featuring the thoughts of John, Virgil, Gordon and Alan as they watch Scott take on the running of International Rescue.

I really hope you enjoy this, and thanks again to Sailor for yet another great idea!

He Ain't Heavy - He's My Brother

Chapter One - John

For so many reasons - yes, I feel guilty. I'm tormented by the questions I ask myself every night, every morning - and so many times in between.

'How could I let this happen? With the best rescue systems in the world, why can't I find him? Why didn't I hear my own father's cry for help?'

Scott's refusal to accept any of my apologies, or to apportion any kind of blame, only makes me feel worse. So does the isolation that I love, for the peace and tranqulility it gives me, but sometimes hate too, in equal measure. At times when he needs me the most, I am so far away from him.

I can never tell him, though. I can only hope that its weight on my conscience stays hidden behind my smile of humouring gratitude.

Sometimes, though, when he catches me off my guard - yes, deep down, I'm sure he knows. That's when I'll see the meaning of true love and loyalty, written through his eyes. Whether in real life, or his holographic equivalent, Scott sees everything. Feels everything. Carries... everything.

He bears my burden of guilt, and anger, and fear, and helplessness. Mine, and everyone else's. Virgil's. Gordon's. Alan's. And he never complains.

Never.

But, see, that's Scott. The big brother who sacrificed his childhood so that the rest of us - me, Virgil, Gordon, and Alan - could still enjoy ours. From the tragedy that tore our family apart, he somehow found the strength to keep going. Keep all of us going, from dad and Grandma, right through to the baby brother who'll never know his mother. Who, thank God, was too young then, to realize how horrifically she'd died. Who'll never suffer the survivor's guilt that so nearly tore Virgil away from us too. Who'll never understand why we'll all go to our own deaths if it keeps him safe.

For all the Fates that might be listening in on this, please - please - don't ever put us in that position. I'm sorry to sound so selfish, but... well, we've had our share of tragedy and loss. Please don't put us through any more.

To watch him now, taking on our father's dream as yet another load of responsibility, I can only marvel at how he does it. Wonder how much more he can take onto those already burdened shoulders. He's like one of those plate-spinners you'd see at an old circus - running up and down his line of poles, keeping them moving in a constant fight between human skill and unchangeable physics.

And yes, sometimes the laws of physics win. When a rescue hits a snag, or if someone endangers my brothers unnecessarily, or questions Alan's abilities - yes, a plate does fall, and break.

If just for a second, we'll hear Scott's voice break too, with emotions he fights so hard to keep hidden. In just that fraction of time, it reminds us all how fragile he is himself. That without our help, and support, and the bonds that keep us together, he, too, will fall. He, too, will break. And none of us can bear the thought of picking up the pieces. Because if Scott breaks, it will be impossible to put him back together.

So yes, from this legacy of our father's dream, I'll keep watch over not just the planet below me, but my own private world within it. My big brother might be the head of International Rescue until our father is found - but I will always be the little brother who watches over him.

Always.