This story deals with the emotional fallout of a difficult rescue. I don't think it is a story that needs a "prozac-warning", but it might be handy to have them nearby :) Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it. As always, this story transcends my initial scribblings only through the work of my betas - freeflow and jules. Thanks to them for actually turning this into something that can see the light of day.

I don't own Thunderbirds. Would I be writing about them here if I did? I just take them out, dust them off and play for a bit. I promise to put them back when I am finished.

Summary: In the aftermath of another difficult rescue, Scott needs his brother to remind him why they carry on.

"Alright, guys, let's call this a day," Scott said.

"Four days," Gordon corrected. He checked his watch and yawned. "Four days and three hours to be exact."

Virgil looked at the still smouldering ruins of the Virienus Mall. The worst of the fires had long been extinguished, but the materials used in its construction were so volatile that they were likely to remain smoking for another week. Only then would the local authorities be able to recover the bodies of those that International Rescue had been unable to save.

Scott, Virgil and Gordon were standing at Mobile Control. They were dirty and sore. They could all do with a long soak in soapy water, but Virgil knew he was going to sleep before he even considered getting clean. Judging by the yawns that kept creeping up on Gordon, he felt the same way. They were exhausted now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

"What was the final count?" Gordon asked.

Scott glanced at a scrap of paper he had pinned to Mobile Control. It was unnecessary; he would have the numbers memorised anyway. "One hundred and forty two saved, thirty missing."

"We did well," Gordon said with a tired smile.

Scott rounded on Gordon. "We did well!" he snapped. "Thirty people who won't be going home. We didn't do well enough for them. Shall we tell their families that we did well?" He began clattering equipment back into its storage.

Virgil glanced at both of his brothers. Gordon looked shell-shocked, but thankfully too surprised to argue. Scott seemed as composed as ever, but there was a jerkiness to his movements that telegraphed his distress to any who knew him. This was not the time for a confrontation; the authorities were still hovering, not to mention the relatives who hadn't yet understood 'no more survivors'. "Gordon, could you prep Thunderbird Two for take-off? I'll help here."

Gordon disappeared without saying another word. He looked thankful to be gone.

"What was that about?" Virgil asked quietly.

Scott didn't answer, and Virgil knew better than to push. They packed Mobile Control away in silence. It was a good thing it had been designed to withstand all manner of natural disaster, considering the way Scott was throwing it about. When they were nearly finished the fat fire chief bobbed up from his truck. He thanked them both formally for their assistance. Scott's answer was brief, but considerate. He advised that they would be leaving momentarily, and he even wished the fire department luck with the recovery operation.

The fire chief nodded his head in thanks.

"I'll see you back at Base," Scott said to Virgil.

"Scott..." Virgil put out a hand to Scott's shoulder, but he pulled away.

"Safe flying, Virgil."

Virgil was left standing beside the ruins. He stared at his brother's back as he strode towards Thunderbird One. He considered chasing him, but didn't think he would gain anything. They all just needed some sleep. But he walked back to his own Thunderbird with misgivings.

Gordon was ready to go, and the pre-flight checks were complete. "Is Scott okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Virgil said as he gunned the green ship into life. "Just tired."

He hoped it was true.

--

When Thunderbird Two was half-way home, Scott broke the silence. "You guys alright?" he asked over the radio.

Virgil glanced at the sleeping form beside him. Gordon had succumbed to exhaustion an hour ago and was now curled into the co-pilot's chair. The gentle snores were an improvement on the earlier jaw cracking yawns. "I'm still awake, if that's what you're asking. Although I can't say the same about Gordon."

"Understood. I'm coming in to land now. Thunderbird One, out."

The conversation had been unusually brief, even compared to Scott in full professional mode. Normally on the homeward leg Virgil and Scott would discuss the rescue prior to the formal debrief with Dad. Alan or Gordon preferred friendly banter that sometimes degenerated into name-calling. In comparison, the flight today had almost been in radio silence.

Virgil was glad of the quiet. Four days of constant activity were beginning to take their toll, and he felt achingly tired now that he wasn't running on adrenaline. He hoped that their father would keep the meeting short; all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep for a week. He scrubbed his hand across his face and wiped the dust of the destroyed shopping mall on his pants.

He was rarely so glad to see the familiar blip of the island on his radar. Gordon mumbled something in his sleep about "that damn shark," then went back to snoring. Virgil knew that protocol dictated that Gordon should have been awake for the approach, but he deserved the sleep. Heck, they all did.

"Thunderbird Two to Base. We have you on visual."

"Welcome home. We are ready for your approach." Alan sounded too awake. It brought Virgil's own tiredness crashing in and he yawned.

"Dad says the debriefing is in his office as soon as you've touched down. He's got a pot of coffee brewed…"

Virgil sighed as the image of bed retreated and he faced up to the thought of a gruelling post-mission-autopsy. There would be lots of discussion and probably disagreement about a couple of near misses, not to mention the equipment trouble at the start.

"Aren't you going to argue?" Alan asked, interrupting his misery.

"I'm too tired to argue. Tell Dad I'll be up to debrief as soon as I've had a shower."

"Virgil, you are the worst person to play any kind of practical joke on," Alan said crossly. "You take all the fun out of it. You should have heard Scott raging when I told him. Said you guys needed to sleep this off and 'what was Dad thinking?'" Alan's impression of Scott was pretty good. He went on, "You're such a straight man. And you're clear to land."

"Understood, commencing descent now."

"Dad says you're to go to bed when you land."

"I think I could manage that," Virgil said with relief. "Thunderbird Two, out."

Once in the hangar, he powered down the green lady. Gordon didn't even twitch. He looked comfortable enough, so Virgil slung one of the emergency blankets over him and reclined the seat slightly.

Alan met him on the gangway. He was entirely too alert to be healthy, although not as bright as normal. "Grandma made bacon rolls." He handed one to Virgil. "Did you leave Gordon in the Danger Zone?"

"He's asleep in there. Figure he'll roll out of that chair once his body realises how uncomfortable it is."

"Or when I power her up to go on another rescue?"

It was a mark of how exhausted Virgil felt that the thought of Alan flying his 'Bird on a rescue did not send him into a panic. Alan was welcome to her. He was going to bed, and woe betide anyone who woke him up for anything less than a dire emergency.

The walk back to his room was a blur, but he knew that Alan was still hovering around beside him. He fell onto the bed and managed to pull off his boots. Then he let himself relax back on the pillow and was asleep in seconds.

--

"Virgil, Virgil!" The hissed voice was full of urgency that dragged him from sleep. He batted a hand at the shape that had the temerity to wake him.

"Virgil, quit it," the voice said and knocked the hand away. "You need to wake up now."

"It's dark."

"I know, but it's important. Please Virgil."

With reluctance, he forced his eyes to open properly. Moonlight illuminated Alan's features, which must mean that Virgil had slept for hours. Why did it only seem like minutes? He blinked a few times to bring his vision into focus. Alan looked worried.

"What is it?" Virgil muttered. It was frustrating how long his brain was taking to wake up. Years of training to respond to unpredictable emergencies meant he was normally alert within an instant. Tonight he felt like he was awakening through treacle. "What is it?" he said again, clearer this time.

Alan was bouncing from foot to foot. Virgil was reminded of the day when Gordon broke his collarbone while climbing a tree after Alan's kite. When Alan had come to tell them, his expression had been the same mix of worry and guilt as now.

"It's Scott," Alan said.

"What about him?"

"I can't find him."

"Why are you looking for him?"

"Because I can't find him, Virgil!"

With an effort, Virgil hauled himself up. His bones and muscles ached with tiredness. He ran a hand through hair that was still thick with dust and soot. Even in the half-light his palms were filthy. "Alan. Start at the beginning. What happened to Scott?"

"Nothing's happened to him. At least I hope nothing has. Hell, what if something has?" He swallowed once and made an obvious effort to calm himself. "You guys all came back and crashed. Dad hit the sack once he'd filed the basic mission report and he said I was to make sure everyone was okay. He gave me orders you weren't to be disturbed for eight hours."

Virgil glanced at his watch, 22:37. That was only four hours since Thunderbird Two had landed.

Alan continued, "I didn't want to wake anyone, so I did some work for a bit."

Virgil translated this as 'playing racing games on the cinema screen,' but didn't comment.

"I checked on Gordon, and he's still asleep on Two, and obviously you're here snoring like an asthmatic bear, but Scott's nowhere."

"He can't be nowhere."

"And if he was somewhere, I would have found him!" Alan said. There was irritation and worry loud in his voice. Virgil could see dark rings under his eyes, and for the first time he wondered how much sleep Alan had had in the past four days. He may not have been on the rescue, but difficult missions could be just as anxious for those still at home.

"Did you tell Dad?" Virgil asked.

"Do you think I'm crazy? I heard what the Doctor said. 'Not too much stress,' and the past four days have been stressful enough without Scott missing. Will you help me look for him?" Alan was almost pleading.

"Sure. I'm awake now." Virgil stuffed his feet into his slippers and stood up. He shouldn't have been surprised. He had known something was bothering Scott.

"Thanks, Virgil."

Alan had already checked the obvious spots. The kitchen, the gym and Thunderbird One's silo were all empty. Virgil sent his little brother back to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. He already looked less worried, and Virgil hoped the confidence wasn't misplaced. He had a good idea where Scott would be hiding, but it was still only a hunch.

There was a small cave just above the mansion that he and Scott had discovered when they had been scouting for an island suitable as their base of operations. Virgil had been interested in the natural caverns in the extinct volcano and its ancient lava tracks, but Scott had been drawn to a point that would eventually overlook the whole of the Tracy Island headquarters. It had been a bad week for the eldest Tracy, and while Virgil had happily measured and sampled, Scott had nursed his plastered wrist in the seclusion of the little cave.

After a bad rescue, they each had different ways of coping. Obviously Gordon would plunge into the pool, while Alan demolished aliens on some video game. Virgil wasn't sure what John did when things got under his skin, probably read a book or watched the stars. Scott would hit the gym until he was exhausted, but after really bad rescues, he would disappear for a while. Virgil reckoned he went to the cave. Scott never discussed it, so Virgil kept his silence, and the secret.

It was well hidden; a little distance from the mansion, and Virgil's tired muscles protested at the climb in the cool air. There was enough light from the full moon to illuminate a path. A breeze had swept up from the ocean and brought the smell of brine over the heady aroma of the tropical flowers. Insects clicked and sang with the usual night symphony. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, Virgil might have enjoyed the beautiful evening.

He had not been back to the cave since the scouting expedition. He hadn't wanted to impose in an area that Scott seemed to have claimed for his own. So, it was with a little uncertainty that he pushed the final branches out of his way. The clearing was as overgrown as he remembered, and the opening of the cave was just visible in the shadows. He almost sighed in relief when he saw the huddled shape beside the rocks in the only place where it was possible to see down to the ocean.

With more noise than was strictly necessary, Virgil pushed his way into the space. He had learned long ago that it was not wise to creep up on Scott. Not even Gordon would try that. There was no response from the shape in the darkness. Virgil took that as permission to come in further.

The shape was indeed Scott, hunched around his knees and staring at the horizon. He had not looked around at the noise, but his eyes were bright, even from where Virgil was standing.

Without speaking, Virgil stepped over the branches and sat on the undergrowth beside his brother.

The silence deepened and Virgil used the time to check Scott over. He was staring out at the ocean, shivering. Virgil cursed himself for not bringing a blanket, and resolved that he wouldn't go back to the house unless he took his brother with him, even if he had to sling him over his shoulder.

Eventually, Scott said, "You should be in bed."

"I was. I got up again."

Silence again. Virgil knew you couldn't force Scott to talk.

"You knew I was here," Scott said.

"Alan couldn't find you. He asked me to look. I know all your hiding places."

"You always have."

Virgil didn't answer.

With a sigh, Scott turned round to look Virgil in the eye. "That was a hell of a rescue."

"No argument here." Unconsciously, Virgil ran his hands through his hair again, remembering the fire damaged beams had fallen where he had been standing moments before. He owed Gordon a drink for that save.

"I can't get it out of my head."

Again, Virgil waited for Scott to continue. The breeze had stiffened.

"There was a woman who came to the muster point when we arrived. I kept seeing her, even though the police tried to keep everyone back while we were working. She had this old toy thing, like Alan's Bear, do you remember?"

Virgil remembered that Bear. It had been the bane of his existence for years. The scruffy thing was forever getting lost, but Alan couldn't leave the house, or go to sleep without it. Hours of all their lives had been spent searching for it.

Scott was continuing. "The police cleared out the disruptive elements of the relatives very quickly, but when I looked around, she was still there. Each time you came out of that place with another survivor, she would lean on the barricade, and put that bear-thing out over it. She never called or cried."

"We didn't bring anyone out for her." Virgil said. It wasn't a question.

"When the chief of police announced that there were no survivors left, she disappeared. I kept looking around, but she wasn't there. That was worse. I can't get her face out of my mind." He waved an arm around the clearing. "I normally come here and get it all sorted out in my head, but I can't tonight. It just keeps spinning around."

"You haven't slept in four days. Sleep deprivation won't be helping."

Scott seemed not to hear. "I keep hearing Dad's voice saying that we saved one hundred and forty two people's lives. But there are thirty people dead now, and I don't know if we could have done more. Maybe pulled that woman's kid out of the rubble in time."

"Scott, I was there. I saw the bodies. Those people died long before Thunderbird One even arrived. They were dead as soon as the building exploded."

"But did we do everything we could?"

Virgil remembered the dust and the fire. He knew there was nothing else they could have done. Some of the decisions he and Gordon had made had been 50/50 shots, like taking a left turn instead of a right that might have been the difference between life and death for someone. But they had done their best and that was always good enough for him.

It was never good enough for Scott, and the only consolation was that if Scott pushed them hard, he pushed himself even harder.

Slowly, Virgil said, "We couldn't have rescued them. We did everything we could have. And no-one else would have got those people out of there. We aren't going to win them all."

"I know. Just tired, I guess. It's been a long four days." Scott rubbed his eyes. "I just wonder why we keep trying sometimes, when it's never going to be enough."

"We have to keep trying, because we make a difference," Virgil said. "But we're not gods. We can't save them all. We just have to keep trying."

Again, Scott scrubbed his eyes. "Yeah." The silence lengthened again. Virgil sat patiently, until Scott said. "Thanks, Virgil."

"Are you ready to come home now? I'm freezing."

Scott actually smiled. "Alright, little brother."

Virgil offered a hand. His own muscles had cramped up, so it was pretty good bet that Scott felt even worse. He was shivering all the time now, and Virgil hovered close as they crept back down the track. Scott stumbled a couple of times, but didn't fall.

Virgil decided not to bother with the kitchen, and Scott didn't argue when he was led into his bedroom. Virgil helped with the boots, and wrapped him in the duvet. The shivering settled, and Scott closed his eyes as he lay down. His breathing settled into a gentle rhythm, and the haunted look left his face. Virgil sighed.

Now that Scott was asleep, Virgil found himself more awake than he had been all evening. He decided to answer his own hunger pangs as well as reassure Alan that their missing brother had been located.

Alan was still in the kitchen beside an insulated jug of hot chocolate. The blond head was resting on the table, and he snored slightly. Virgil couldn't help smiling. He wondered, briefly, where Bear was, and how Alan could manage to sleep without it.

He poured himself a mug of hot chocolate, and drank. Alan didn't twitch.

Eventually, Virgil decided to relieve the kid, and woke him gently. "Alan, go to bed."

He jumped. "Wha's'it?"

"Nothing."

"Scott! Where is he? Is he alright? Is it a call? Should I wake Dad?"

Virgil put his hand on Alan's shoulder. "It's okay. Scott's okay. There isn't a call. You should go to bed."

"Dad told me to stay on alert."

"I'll do it. I'm awake now."

"But what if something happens? I'm supposed to be..."

"I'll wake you up first, so you can tell Dad," Virgil reassured.

It seemed to be enough for Alan. As Virgil escorted another brother to bed, he resolved never again to underestimate the stress of staying at home during difficult rescues. Alan curled into bed with a contented smile.

Virgil smiled when he saw that Bear was still on the bookshelf in pride of place beside the racing trophies. Habit made him retrieve it, and put it on the pillow beside the sleeping head. He had to resist the temptation to ruffle the kid's hair.

Scott was asleep too, and when Virgil checked the video-feed from Thunderbird Two, Gordon was curled up and comfortable in the co-pilot's chair. He had pulled the blanket high over his head.

The house was strangely quiet. Snores were audible from Jeff's bedroom, but otherwise there was no noise at all. Virgil sat at the computer, intending to write up some of the report for the morning.

Instead, he found himself accessing the closed circuit video from Mobile Control. The invisible cameras built into the console had taken live footage from different angles. It didn't take him long to find the woman who had affected Scott. She was not quite middle aged, with gray in her hair. She was in most of the video. Sometimes she would clutch a soft toy tightly into her body, then she would let it hang in her arms.

It didn't take a lot of research to find the names of the victims of the explosion. The survivors' names and details were recorded, whilst those unaccounted for were noted as "missing". There were three children on the list.

Virgil knew he could ask John to trace the woman's name from the captured images in half the time it would take him to do it, but he guessed that John would probably be resting too. The computer eventually flashed up a name; Iliaana Kirianakov, aged forty seven. She had three children. One of those names matched the "missing" list. Sebian Kirianakov was seven. There was no way to tell why the child had been in the Mall, but Virgil guessed that his mother had been there too, and had managed to escape before the worst of the secondary explosions.

There was a photograph attached to the children's details; a school photograph with three small boys. Sebian was the youngest, in between his two elder brothers. He had a gap toothed smile and a dark flop of hair. He grinned widely into the camera.

Virgil found his pencils and a scrap of paper. He sketched.

--

Scott woke up to a shaft of sunlight shining through a slit in the curtains. He cracked an eye to look at the time on the alarm clock. He had managed eight hours of sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept as long as that. He lay back and stretched.

When he gradually pulled himself out of bed, he found an envelope on the floor where it had been pushed under the door. His name was written in Virgil's distinctive script.

Inside was a small piece of paper. Virgil had drawn a pencil sketch of a small boy with laughing eyes. Underneath was the boy's name. On the back Virgil had written: We keep trying because it is the only way to honour those we fail.

Scott smiled and understood. Then he got up to face the day.

End