So, this is my very first multi-fic ever. Well. Mostly. Okay, I split it into two; the second part will probably be coming on Sunday.

There's hurt Gordon, Virgil and Scott angst, and a little Virgil whump.

Enjoy!

"I just can't believe you, Gordon! You were stupid and you almost got yourself killed! You almost got Virgil killed as well!" Scott was yelling as he stomped ahead of the red-head, arms waving as he ranted, looking straight ahead to avoid eye contact and the guilt Gordon knew would follow if they looked at each other. Gordon imagined he looked like a real mess.

Admittedly Gordon had been a little reckless but if Scott would have done the same thing in a heartbeat.

Such a hypocrite.

His head ached with a fierce pain, pounding to the beat of his heart and breathing was becoming difficult. Scott was wavering in Gordon's vision and his fuzzy outline wasn't doing anything for the young man's stomach. His arms also stung, considering they had taken the brunt of the heat, but he didn't need to be a medic to tell that it wasn't bad. Virgil had even said so himself. It simply felt like someone had tightened his skin.

"As soon as we get home I'm having the pool drained and I'm telling Dad. He should sort you out soon enough. I just can't believe you'd put your brother in that kind of danger!" Gordon barely heard him.

"Scott," Gordon murmured. The corners of his vision were starting to fade into darkness and fuzziness be damned, he could barely see anything at all now. Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he thought.

"… But no, Gordon has to play the hero …" It was a good thing they were out of civilians' eyes, Scott was now doing a mocking re-enactment. Gordon swallowed heavily.

"Scott," he said a little louder.

"'I'm Gordon, I'm just going to run back into a burning building, almost get flattened by a beam and make Virgil disobey orders and run in after me to drag my sorry ass out before I get fried to a crisp!'"

"Scott!" The eldest Tracy son finally turned around.

"What?" He asked harshly. Gordon opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out. He closed it again and gulped painfully. The nausea was getting worse. His vision was getting worse. If he had to take a shot in the dark he'd guess his breathing was getting worse too.

Gordon swayed on his feet and the sight of this finally bought Scott to a mental halt. The eldest Tracy couldn't remember if he'd even asked the red-head if he was alright. In fact, now that he thought about it, he definitely hadn't. He'd just helped Virgil pull the young man out of the burning doorway, listened to the field medic's diagnosis, and commenced yelling at both of them. Virgil now wasn't speaking to him and it wasn't the wisest move on his part if Gordon's pallor was anything to judge by.

Gordon couldn't see a thing now, his sight was completely absent, black fog filling his eyes. He felt himself sway again.

"Gordon?" The voice sounded like it was coming through a tunnel, so very far away. He could no longer remember who it belonged to either, the concussion coming into play with a winning hand. "Hey, are you okay?" Gordon could feel the moment both of his knees buckled and he sank gratefully into the darkness, distant shouting and loud footsteps disappearing around him.

He swam for a while in the fog. It was a comforting feeling, all warm and cozy, like a being wrapped in a blanket on a cold winter's night. Instinctively he knew that this was closer to the truth than it seemed, only it wasn't winter the blanket was protecting him from. It was pain, dull throbbing pain all the way through his head. And, he gasped, there it was.

Something was ripping holes in the blanket, the pain pushing its way through. He moaned and twisted trying to escape, not getting very far. Something with an iron grip held him in one place. For the first time sound drifted through his cocoon.

" … Hold still … won't … almost … Virgil … right here …" There was movement, he could hear it and feel it, something was brushing against his chest. Another flame started, only this time it was in his arm. There was a sudden prick and the fire went away, only to be followed by ice, cool ice, so sweet and gentle; it put out the fire. He relaxed, soothed, and drifted away again.

The next time the comfort cocoon wore off he felt enough pain to open his eyes with a moan. Everything above him was fuzzy, with a sort of furry outline, hard to distinguish. He whimpered at the tightness of his head. It wasn't as bad as before but it still hurt enough to matter. The surface he was lying on was rumbling, making his headache worse. Bright brown eyes, tight with worry, appeared suddenly above him. He turned his head away in an attempt to be left on his own.

" … Can you … me? Gordo … feel anything? Do you … anywhere?" Needless to say his hearing wasn't any better with the redoing of complete consciousness but by catching of the ends of the questions he was able to discern what was being asked. Most of the time.

The voice kept talking but Gordon ignored it. His head was still too muddled to answer coherently and the bright light was starting to get to him and the pain was taking a harder hold and the nausea, which until this moment had been absent, began making a encore performance. He moaned a little and shut his eyes, leaving the world and it's questions behind.

The next time he woke it was to an incessant tapping on his cheek and a concerned voice.

"Hey, Gordo, it's been a while since you last opened your eyes, Virgil's getting worried." As far as Gordon could hear and discern, it was Scott and he sounded worried. Or bored. That at least would explain the tapping. And was more likely considering Scott was angry with him. Call him a coward but he really didn't want to wake up to face a furious eldest brother.

"I've turned the lights off and Virgil would really like to check that concussion of yours."

He doesn't sound angry. Maybe Virgil isn't hurt. He seemed to remember Scott yelling something about Virgil. Is Virgil hurt? Or maybe Scott is just saving it for later because Dad is here. Wait, Dad's at a business function with Alan–

"Yeah, come on, Fish, wake up for us, why don't you?" And that would be Virgil, sounding much further away. He sounded a little croaky. The young man in question slowly, very slowly, squinted his eyes open only to see a face much too close to his. He flinched back and winced.

Immediately Scott was out of his chair, leaning over Gordon and calling for Virgil. Gordon winced harder and squeezed his eyes shut with a whimper.

"Sorry, sorry," said Scott at a whisper. His hand made it's way to Gordon's forehead, stroking back his hair. Gordon flinched away.

That hand could just as easily be hurting me because Scott is angry and Virgil is hurt and the boy was hurt as well and–

Virgil came over dressed in what was known in the Tracy household as his 'work' clothes. Gordon could see the tiny red marks made from the burning debris on his exposed arms. He was holding the small penlight that Gordon had come to dread after years of accidents.

"Hey," he said softly. His face was professional but that was just his way of coping. Gordon knew enough to look beyond it and see the immense relief hiding in the brown eyes. "How are you feeling?" Gordon pulled his fish-technique again. Scott frowned and reached over the top of him for a container of ice chips.

Scott is frowning. Scott is angry. Virgil is hurt. The boy is hurt too.

"Here." He took one out and placed it on Gordon's tongue. Gordon spat it out but Scott just pushed another one in when he opened his mouth to tell his brother to back away. Gordon was surprised. The coolness of it soothed his throat and the young man coughed quietly.

"'M'okay," he croaked.

"Liar," came the immediate response, followed by more ice chips. They felt too good to spit out again and so he warily let Scott feed him.

"Y'okay?" He asked Virgil but nothing could be heard around the ice chips except an incoherent mumble. He repeated himself a little louder, turning his head to face his immediate older brother and determinedly ignoring the fireworks that burst behind his eyes.

"Gordon, hold still." Scott grabbed Gordon's head gently between his hands to stop him from squirming and Virgil shone his penlight into each of Gordon's eyes, watching closely as the pupils dilated. Gordon whimpered again with the thought of Scott touching him.

Scott was yelling. Scott is angry. Virgil is hurt. The boy is hurt bad. He's crying–

"They're still a little uneven," he mused thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowing. "I'm going to keep him down here for observation. He's still got light burns on his arms and I don't like the incoherency." Scott looked at him and nodded. Gordon frowned at him. Or them. He wasn't sure any more. He knew he'd done something bad and Scott was angry with him but he was really tired, too tired to think. His eyes flickered closed for a second.

"Wanna … go t'bed." It came out as an incoherent mumble, merely an expression of Gordon's thoughts, and he wasn't expecting an answer. So when one came it made him jump.

"No." He shrunk away from Scott's unintentional harsh voice, turning pleading eyes to Virgil instead.

"P'ease?" Virgil shook his head from where he was turned away from the both of them and Scott answered for him.

"No way, Gordo. You're staying here." Scott fixed him with The Eye and Gordon shut up. Nothing good came from disobeying The Eye.

Gordon blinked and suddenly there was a swimming sensation both behind his eyes and spread across the room. He blinked again. Everything was wavy, going up and down and up and down and up … His eyes drifted to the side away from Scott. Coincidentally the side where Virgil stood slightly sheepishly beside the IV connected to the back of Gordon's hand.

He could hear his eldest brother mutter worriedly to Virgil, and hear Virgil reassure him. Suddenly a hand landed on his forehead.

"Hey," said Virgil quietly. "You're okay. You can go to sleep now." And he was gone.

He opened his eyes. His head wasn't pounding nearly as much, in fact it felt rather like a bad itch, probably the result of the drugs. It was incessantly annoying but not painful. Neither were his arms, dabbed in cream.

The burns Virgil mentioned. He had a huh moment, and looked around for anyone else in the room. The infirmary was empty, the computers beeping and keeping track of him by themselves. Gordon grinned.

He unwrapped his wrists from the various monitoring devices, glad to see that Virgil had taken him off of the IV.

It must have been a while since I last woke up.

He swung his legs out of the bed and onto the floor but found when he went to balance himself his knees buckled. He fell, dragging his blanket with him so that both wayward limbs and cotton material landed in a tangle on the cold floor. The monitors clanged next to him, not set off but bumping into on another.

Ouch. That hurt. Virgil's hurt. Scott's angry. The boy's got a broken leg. He was crying. Virgil saved me. The boy was crying. The boy was crying. The boy was– He winced with the sudden onslaught of twisted memories. It was back. Mostly.

He remembered the boy crying with the broken leg and then running into the building to get the boy's sister. There had been a bang and then Virgil's face and then Scott's and then nothing. And then the yelling.

He looked up from the floor of the infirmary to check if anyone was coming in at a run. They weren't. It was just as quiet as it had been before, maybe more so considering Gordon had managed to knock the monitors in the fall and pull the plug out of the wall.

You're a ninja.

He grinned to himself. Now, to set out on his quest. He stood up slightly shakily, grabbing the bed at one point for support, and started to make his way out of the door.

TBC