The only light in the room came from the flickering television set, broadcasting pictures of the devastation that the young man sitting watching had seen with his own eyes earlier that day. One little cigarette had caused the acres of scorched earth, the tattered buildings that had been defenseless against the deadly fire that engulfed the area.

"The death of a family was confirmed this evening by Fire Chief Jack McKenzie, calling the news a shock and a tragedy for everyone within the local community. There are still a large number of people unaccounted for and if anyone has any details they should contact…." The programme was cut short as a dark shadow entered the room, turning it off from the remote control.

"There was nothing anyone could have done for them son," a low voice said softly. Virgil swallowed, it hurt the back of his throat.

"I didn't even try Dad," he said to his father Jeff, but it came out choked sounding. "I was doing something that didn't even matter…"

"Virgil, you helped stopped the flames…"

"But I wasn't needed…the firemen there were more than capable…I should have been getting people like than family out of there…" he broke off, looking at the empty glass in his hand, stained with numerous shots of the amber whisky in the bottle in front of him.

"We can't save everyone," Jeff told him bluntly. Virgil's eyes brimmed as he spoke the words he'd been mulling over for the past few hours.

"Then I don't know why I'm here."

Virgil slept late and Jeff took the opportunity to address the concerns he had over Virgil to the brother he knew best. Scott , tall, dark haired with dazzling blue eyes that never failed to get a smile, was the oldest of Jeff's sons and the one most like his father. Sure and decisive, he was always ready to take control and watch over all of his younger brothers, most of all, Virgil.

"He feels like he's failed Father," Scott said, taking a gulp of the coffee in front of him.

"I've never seen him like this Scott," Jeff confessed. "I'm worried…I think he's reconsidering his position here…" Scott's eyes flashed, concern gracing his normally calm and collected face. Swallowing the last of his coffee, Scott got to his feet.

"Should I talk to him?" he asked, although he knew that's why his father had spoken to him about this.

"You've always been the one he's turned to," Jeff said, inwardly wondering why he could not have been there for his middle son. Scott's eyes remained on his father's face for a second too long and Jeff turned away his eyes meeting the portrait of the family, painted by Virgil some years ago. Scott hesitated, his thoughts also turning to why he had become the only one Virgil would turn to when he needed help. From the kitchen, he could hear Alan and Gordon, the two youngest brothers joking and laughing.

"I better make sure they are not getting up to no good," Jeff said, taking the moment to move away from the unwanted conversation he was sure Scott would start. Scott watched his father leave, his stern face and confident posture betraying the turmoil he was feeling inside.

The gentle knock on his door roused Virgil from a restless sleep. From the other side of the door, Scott heard a vague mumble and smiled. Virgil was never very good a waking up. He entered his brother's sanctuary bearing a gift of a strong black coffee, which Virgil accepted thankfully. He took a large gulp and closed his eyes, sighing. Scott fixed his eyes on a stunning picture of a sunset, painted in vivid pinks, oranges and yellows, Virgil's most recent work, and one he was quite proud of although he would never have admitted it. Virgil followed Scott's gaze and frowned. Now when he looked at that picture, he was reminded of the flames that had engulfed the tiny house, all on its own out in the wild forest. He inwardly shuddered and glanced at Scott, prompting him to speak. Scott looked round at him and smiled at his brother.

"Hey Virgil, I…I want to talk to you," he said, sitting at the edge of Virgil's bed.

"Uh oh," Virgil joked with a half-smile, but it faded when his brother looked at him with a solid gaze. Virgil's soft, golden brown eyes glanced down at the crumpled sheets in front of him

"Dad told you about last night, right?" Virgil guessed and busied himself drinking more of his coffee.

"Uh…yeah," Scott said slowly. Virgil bristled and chewed the inside of his cheek.

"So he sent you to do his dirty work?"

"Hold on…Virgil, he was caught up with other things…"

"Yeah, sure he was," Virgil muttered, looking round at Scott. "So?"

"Well, did you mean what you said?" Scott said after a pause.

"That I didn't know what I was doing here?" Virgil asked. "Yeah, I do Scott. I've seen too many rescues not going as they should have…too many people not making it…"

"We can't save everyone Virg," Scott put in quickly and Virgil laughed, rolling his eyes and placing his cup down on the bedside table.

"God…that's exactly what Dad said last night."

"And he's right…you know he is," Scott insisted, but he could see by Virgil's expression that he did not want to have a repeat of last night's speech. Virgil pushed the sheets back and slid out of bed, rubbing his mussed chestnut coloured hair and glancing up at Scott.

"Finished?" he asked.

"What's going on with you Virgil? This isn't like you," Scott said, lifting the empty mug and making his way to the door.

"Maybe I've just realised something that I should have realised a while ago."

Virgil placed the envelope on his father's desk, a sad smile gracing his lips. Here he was, a twenty five year old man running away from home. No, he thought, it was more than that. He'd failed in his promise to his father. In the last three rescues, someone had got hurt or been killed. To Virgil, this went against everything International Rescue represented. He could not see why the operation should run when it was continually failing to do what it promised. It was this sentiment that he left his father and brothers on the desk.