Well, another cracking episode! It felt a bit odd without Scott and Alan, but Virgil and Gordon still make an awesome team. I'm sure I'm not the only one who felt for poor Virg too, all through his dealings with Fischler - though I loved the way he shut that idiot up!

More seriously, those seconds where he loses contact with Gordon must have scared the jeepies out of him. So with seasons greetings to all my lovely reviewers, here's my thoughts on how Gordon's latest close call may have affected him.

Enjoy! And I hope you're all having a FAB-ulous Christmas!

Weathering The Storm

Scott finished his pre-run warm-up, pausing to watch the sunrise that was unfolding above him. Yes, living in the paradise of a sub tropical island sure had its advantages. From the gentle pleasure of its beaches, to the dizzying thrill of its rock-cliffs, it was a fitness addict's dream. Even now, all these years after they'd moved here, there were parts of it that he still hadn't conquered. One of these days, he'd scale that outcrop that made El Capitan look like a molehill

Of course, such chances to kick back and relax were as rare as Grandma's rib-eyes. Okay, so her five boys loved a good steak with the best of 'em - just not ones that could still sprout hooves, and run off your damn plate.

Still, their latest crisis was behind them now. All his brothers were safe, still blessedly in one piece. Those investors for Fischler's latest scheme had seen his reckless stupidity for themselves, and wisely taken their trade and investment elsewhere. For those people who'd seen first hand how stupid the inventor was, he'd say it on their behalf.

"Thank God."

A change in the light around him helped to push those thoughts of 'what if's and 'might have beens' into happier ones of current reality. The sky was just stunning now - a palette of pinks, and golds, and reds, that would be a perfect backdrop for his morning run. He'd have to be quick, though, before the storm that was brewing through this glorious sky tore out its beauty.

Nothing too far, then. Just a gentle jog down to the beach, then along to Gordon's Cove - that little rock-pool where they'd found the family squid's very first pets.

Splishy, Splashy, Flibbles, Nibbles and Wiggles. Those tiny guppies that had inspired Gordon's love for the sea - and also introduced him, if a bit sooner than expected, to the wonders of piscine biology. Or, as it had been then, what happens when mommy fishies share their tank with daddy fishies.

Ah yes, the joys of trying to explain that to a waaaay too curious five year old, and - what the hell?!

"Hey, Scott."

Uh oh.

It wasn't so much what Virgil had said, or even how he'd said it. Seriously to the point for the former, and typically calm for the latter. No, it was the subtler signs of trouble, that made Scott frown too. Because on such a glorious morning as this, the kind that just begged to be caught by an artist's hand, there wasn't a paintbrush or palette in sight.

Instead, his brother was kitted out in his vest and joggers. From that alone, the alarm bells in Scott's head now rang even louder - because that meant only one thing. The family peacemaker was angry. Really angry. So spitting mad angry that his usual workout in the gym hadn't fully dispersed it. He still needed this extra exercise to pound it out of his feet, as well as his fists.

He'd come prepared for it, though - enough for Scott to almost smile as his eyes drew down to Virgil's waist. Instead of hammers and wrenches, his tool belt was filled with bottles of water. A sign of normalcy that also had its downsides. This really wasn't the moment to think how it had turned the family bear into its oversized donkey.

No, he'd save that for a more appropriate time, Right now, he had a visibly livid brother to deal with. A brother who'd been oddly quiet since last night's debrief. Who'd watched Gordon like the proverbial hawk, as if he couldn't dare to let his brother out of his sight.

Something had clearly happened on that last mission. Something that Virgil had been fretting about ever since. And, it seemed, being given the space to resolve it himself hadn't quite worked this time.

Time to call in the big guns. Or rather, the big brother who knew him well enough to coax that anger out of him. Until he found out what had Mr Unflappable so thoroughly flapped, though... yes, nice and easy does it.

"Hey to you too."

Hmm, a bit too casual, since his oddly fidgety brother still felt he had to explain why he was there.

"Yeah, I... uh, thought I'd take today's run with you."

Damn if those alarm bells weren't deafening him now. The only time when Virgil ran with him without being press-ganged into it was when he was seriously, seriously, stressed. Watching him stare up at the still glorious sunrise above him gave Scott just the opening he needed to start trying to ease it.

"Well, you've sure picked the morning for it!"

A distracted nod answered him, speaking more worrying volumes for whatever was weighing on his brother's mind. It meant he wasn't ready to talk it out yet.

That breakthrough didn't come until they'd sprinted down to the beach - 'damn, if he's making me look slow, this is gonna be bad' - and run at full pelt along it, until they reached Gordon's rock pool.

Then, and only then, did the family Hercules seem to lose all his strength, his legs buckling like reeds in the wind as Virgil sank onto the rocks beside him. That alone had Scott at his side, long before his head dropped into alarmingly shaking hands.

"Whoa, easy, Virg... whatever's happened, it's okay, I've got you... it's okay, I'm here... I'm right here..."

Words of comfort and reassurance, that he'd usually hear from the brother who still sat shaking in his arms. However wrong this role reversal felt, though, there was no way in hell that Scott was going to let him go. Instead, he held Virgil even closer, letting the simplicity of physical contact work its comforting magic, until Virgil finally composed himself enough to start talking.

Well, not so much talking, more like putting serious doubt on Langstrom Fischler's production from legalised parentage.

"That stupid, selfish bastard... damn it, Scott, we've got to stop him... I mean, really stop him, before he kills someone!"

Doing to a pebble what he clearly wanted to do to the 'him' in question, Virgil watched it slam into the surf - oblivious to his brother's startled alarm as raw fury switched back to a whisper of helpless dread.

"He damn near killed Gordon yesterday, and... I - I thought I'd lost him, Scott... when that tower collapsed, and I couldn't see if he'd made it onto the grapple-seat, I thought... Christ, Scott, I really thought I'd lost him."

Oh, hell - forget 'bad.' When you had the family language monitor cursing himself, and so horrified that one of his brothers had almost died, then - yes, 'bad' became the Tracy family equivalent of DefCon One.

A close call, too, that its current leader knew nothing about, but - well, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. Right now, Scott kept his voice as calm and calming as it had to be, as he tried to coax out what Virgil hadn't told him about their latest encounter with Langstrom Fischler, and his arrogant ego.

"Okay, let's take this from the start, Virg. In your own time, it's okay. Just tell me what happened."

In field commander speak - everything that you didn't want me to hear in debrief.

It was a relief to them both when Virgil smiled and nodded, resting his forehead against Scott's. Finding strength in the child-borne gesture that had forged the deepest bond of trust between them, he finally began to speak again.

"I could hear Gordon yelling at Fischler and the others, to get onto the grapple-seat. From what Fischler said in response, I'm guessing he did the mother of Ismays, and left everyone else to fend for themselves. How that idiot has lived for so long without someone killing him is beyond me. And why anyone in their right minds would want to either work with him, or invest in his crazy schemes is beyond me too, but Gordon, he... well, he showed him for the self serving moron who'll only ever save his own miserable skin."

Okay, so his voice was still taut with anger, but Scott had still recognized another precious breakthrough. When such un-Virgil like cursing changed back to more familiar, mere insults, you knew the crisis was starting to pass.

He just wished his brother could take comfort in that himself now, but from the softness of what he said next... no, such much needed solace was still a long way off.

"You'd have been so proud of him back there, Scott. God knows how, but he managed to get everyone onto that seat, but then... I don't know if it was from Two's downdraft, or the tower itself shifting, but suddenly I couldn't see him, or hear him either. All I could see and hear was that tower crashing down to the ground, and... I - I couldn't see him, Scott... for just those few seconds, I didn't know if he'd made it onto that seat, or if he'd..."

A scenario that was as unthinkable to prepare for as it was to say. No stranger to its nightmare himself, Scott just nodded - drawing the same comfort from his brother as he gave to him by offering it.

What troubled him more, though, was knowing Virgil had faced this very worst of scenarios before. Okay, so they'd both teased their way through it at the time, but that mission in Taipei had come too damn close to being his last.

But then, he was a Tracy. Making light of staring death in the face was a trait that every one of them shared. For one of them, though, he'd raised it to a level that at least one of his brothers still struggled to understand.

"I just can't believe Gordon took it all so calmly! While I was there in Two, freaking out, he was... well, hanging out."

The smile on his face was a welcome sight - but the clouds inside them stopped it from reaching his eyes as he revealed more of his very worst nightmare.

"I don't think there are words for how I felt when I heard him say that. I mean, I knew he could handle the rescue himself, and get those people to safety, but... God, Scott, leaving him unprotected to face that drone attack was..."

"...something you had to do, Virg. However much you hated it," Scott cut in gently, turning his brother around, so he could see the approval that he still needed to hear. "If you'd stayed there, Virg, those drones would have taken you out too, and... look, you made the right call, okay? If I'd been there, I'd have done exactly the same."

'Yeah, if I'd been there. Damn, of all the days to take Alan out for that training run.'

As quickly as it had come, though, that niggle of guilt faded back into more practical acceptance. When you put your life on the line as much as they did, you needed the reflexes and instincts to keep you at the highest peak of your game. Just as their father had done, Scott recognized their importance too much to ever dismiss them, but - damn, sometimes the timing of these training sessions just sucked.

Still, both his brothers had covered his absence, as bravely and brilliantly as he'd known they would. For its stand in leader, though, there was still just one last part of his duty that he had to make right.

"Thanks, Scott. Yeah, I know that, and... look, I'm sorry too, for not telling you this last night, but... well..."

"...you knew how I'd react," Scott finished for him, a gentle smile taking all trace of disappointment out of his voice.

Ah yes, how well his brother knew him. How well Virgil knew how his infamous temper would have exploded. And how typical of that brother to bear its aftermath instead of him. As Virgil would have told him, there'd have been no point in both of them suffering a night of 'what might have been' nightmares. So yes, if a still stressed out, sleep deprived brother had to use his shoulder for a pillow right now, he'd let him stay there for as long as he needed.

The powers of nature, though, had other ideas. A sudden chill reminded him that his glorious morning wasn't going to last. That brewing storm was almost upon them now. As Virgil then dryly observed, he wasn't happy about it either.

"If Fischler's caused that, I swear to God, I'm gonna build a lightning rod, and strap him onto it."

He didn't mean it, of course. Such cruelty and violence could never be the way of a Tracy. But as they returned to the house, Scott had to admit he shared his brother's frustration.

Yet again, Langstrom Fischler had left innocent lives in danger, with no thought or care for the consequences. His selfish disregard for their safety went against everything that International Rescue stood for, and the thought of how he'd insulted them still made him bristle.

For every loophole the GDF closed against him, he still somehow found ways to defy them. So while torrents of rain lashed outside, and a thankfully calmer brother set to work with his easel and paints, Scott sat at their father's desk, and tried to plan his next move.

So far, they'd been lucky. Damn lucky, that the inventor's stupidity hadn't ended in tragedy. But as Scott knew, all too well, that luck wouldn't stay with them forever.