An Honest Scott Lover!

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The Road To Recovery

Scott's home... or is he?????

Warnings for this chapter: PTSD episode, some swearing.

Chapter 12 - Escape

John returned as promised after he’d eaten to relieve Virgil for a few hours, who curled up on the bed next to Scott’s and promptly fell asleep.  John managed to swap out the IV without disturbing Scott and it was a few hours later that Virgil resurfaced again, way short of the usual number of hours that he would normally be asleep for and John suspected his worry for Scott was the underlying cause of that.

He thanked John for staying with Scott, and his brother stayed a little longer as John ordered him to go and have a shower and get changed, which he did, returning about twenty minutes later, having bumped into Gordon and Alan, who were desperate to see their big brother.  Virgil told them to be patient and that they could probably see him later, once he had woken up and agreed to the visit.  They had to be careful not to crowd or overwhelm him.

John nodded and left him.  No doubt Kyrano would be preparing lunch shortly, so he decided to see if he needed any help.

Virgil checked on his big brother several times over the next hour but he seemed determined to stay asleep; not that Virgil minded.  It would do Scott good to gets lots of rest to aid in his healing.

Satisfied that he wasn’t going to wake up soon, Virgil turned his attention to sorting through some new boxes of supplies and was soon engrossed in his work…

o0o

The PoW medical staff had let their guard down and he had managed to overpower the solitary medic who had gone into the supply cupboard to obtain items to restock the main room.  Scott had feigned sleep and when he sensed the medic turn and move away from him had slowly opened his eyes.

He watched as the man checked items in the overhead cupboard, then moved to a door, opened it and disappeared through.  A faint sound of various cupboards or shelves being searched wafted through, so Scott very carefully took in his surroundings.  He was the only patient in there, and was hooked up to an IV which he pulled out of his arm.  It took a minute or so of pressure to ensure he wasn’t bleeding, then he eased the covers away from his body, sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

For a moment he thought he was going to pass out, and he breathed as deeply and quietly as he could to keep the black spots at the corners of his eyes at bay.  This was his best chance—perhaps the only chance he was going to get and he wasn’t going to let it pass him by.

He slid out of bed.  The tiled floor was cold on his bare feet, but that wasn’t important.  His priority was to overpower that medic and get out.  He looked around him, but could not see anything that he could use as a weapon.

Scott pressed his back hard against the wall next to the open door and waited.  A minute or so later, the man appeared through the open doorway, a relatively large clear container in his hand filled with some supplies.  He stopped suddenly as he spied the empty bed, but before he could turn or take a step, Scott delivered a chop to the side of the medic’s neck.  The man stumbled and attempted to say something, when Scott hit him as hard as he was able, and the medic collapsed to the ground, unconscious, his container of supplies going flying as he fell.

Surveying the room, Scott spied a pair of slippers and put his feet into them.  They fitted.  He had some clean sleep pants on but nothing else, so he quickly searched the cupboards and found a plain blue t-shirt and slipped that on.

Now dressed, he moved to the door and cracked it open to reveal a dimly lit corridor.  He glanced back once more to check the medic was still lying where he had dropped, before he slipped out of the room and cautiously made his way along the corridor.

The sound of voices reached his ears and he desperately looked for somewhere to hide.  He couldn’t be caught now, not when he was finally making his way out of this hellhole.  The voices he discovered were coming from up some stairs, so he continued along the corridor until he reached a door.

To his surprise, it opened and he peeked out.  There was some grass, a wall and in the distance what looked to be a wood.  It was also surprisingly hot.  More time had passed than he realised.

No one appeared to be around, so he ran across the grass towards the wall.  He peered over it to see it enclosed a vegetable and flower garden which he hadn’t expected, but he didn’t have time to ponder, so he clambered over it, through the garden and towards the other wall.

Just as he reached it an alarm went off and he realised they had discovered he was missing.  For a moment panic overtook him.  He couldn’t go back!  He wouldn’t go back!  He’d sooner die than go back.  Tears crept down his face as he realised he would never see his family again.  It had been so long, he was having problems remembering what they looked like, but he didn’t have time to think about them now; he needed to find somewhere to hide, then work out the way back to the border and safety, so he started running for the cover of the wood.

o0o

John and Gordon burst into the infirmary to find Virgil gripping the edge of Scott’s empty bed with one hand, and rubbing the side of his neck with the other.

“Virgil!  What’s happened?  Where’s Scott?” John asked as he killed the alarm.

The medic shook his head and wished he hadn’t.  “He attacked me.  I guess he woke up confused, had an episode of PTSD and he’s made a run for it.”

“Are you all right?” Gordon asked him.

“Yeah.  We need to find him… if he’s having an episode, he won’t be thinking straight and he may even be hallucinating about what he’s seeing and not realise he’s safe here on the island.  Wish we had a way of tracking him.”

Gordon moved to a cabinet with an electronic lock on it and opened it.  He pulled out three tranquiliser guns and loaded them with darts and turned to find his two brothers looking at him in horror.

“You’re not serious!” Virgil exclaimed.

“We may not have any choice.  If he’s going to be a danger to us or to himself we may need to sedate him and we may have to do it from a distance if we can’t get near him.  I don’t want to do this anymore than you do.  It’s a last resort to save him and us from himself.  Virgil, you’re lucky Scott didn’t injure you more badly or even kill you.  We just can’t take the risk.”

John and Virgil looked at one another.  Gordon could see that neither of them liked it, but they could see where he was coming from.  If Scott wasn’t in his right mind, he could seriously harm them or himself and this had to be prevented at all costs.

“Okay Gordon… you’re the only other military man here… where would Scott go?” John asked.

“He’ll be aiming for immediate cover initially; and if he isn’t completely lucid, if it was me, I’d head for the trees until I could scout the area properly.  That jungle is pretty dense and you could easily miss him.  This isn’t an overly large island, but he’s going to be difficult to find.  We could really do with Kayo’s help but she’s the other side of the world.”

“And dad won’t be back for God knows how long.  What about Alan?” Virgil asked.

“He’s too young,” John answered.  “He’s seventeen, we shouldn’t involve him in this.”

“You know he’s going to go off on one because he doesn’t consider himself a kid anymore,” Virgil came back with.

“But if he’s alone and comes face-to-face with Scott in his present state, he won’t stand a chance against him, even in his weakened condition.  Scott’s been trained to kill and if he doesn’t recognise Alan, he could kill him.  Do you realise that if Scott found out he’d harmed him, it could finish him,” John said coldly.

“We’re on our own,” Gordon said calmly and held out two of the tranquiliser guns.  “When we get out there, be very careful.  Scott will be looking for something he can use as a weapon; probably a good hefty branch.  If you get a clear shot, just take it.  Don’t try and talk him down and don’t let him get too close to you either.  Are we clear on that?”

John and Virgil just nodded.  The thought of not even trying to talk to their eldest brother was anathema to them; to just tranquilise him without attempting to reason with him just didn’t seem right, but they knew how dangerous their big brother could be, so they reluctantly took the offered guns.

“Okay,” Virgil finally said.  “Where do you want to start?”

“John, can you bring up the cameras?  Let’s see if we can get an idea of what direction he headed in, although with him being in the infirmary, it’s likely he exited from this floor.”

John nodded.  “That route would lead to the vegetable garden and then onwards to a couple of trails and also into the jungle.  You think he’s gone in there?”

“Seems the most likely.”

John grabbed the nearest tablet and logged in, then poured over the various feeds of the cameras.  A number of minutes passed, then:  “Got him.  Heading out of the door at the end of the corridor over the wall, through the vegetable and flower garden, over the next wall and into the jungle.”

“Let’s go!  We’ve only got about four hours until sunset.  Keep comms open at all times.”

They turned to exit the infirmary and came face-to-face with Alan.

“What gives guys—”  His mouth dropped open when he saw all three of them holding tranquiliser guns.  “What…”

“Alan, go to your room and lock yourself in, okay”

“No!  What’s happening?”  He glanced beyond them further into the room.  “Where’s Scott?”

“Scott’s suffering an episode, we’re going after him before he hurts himself further,” Gordon told him.”

“With tranquiliser guns!  You can’t be serious!  This is Scott we’re talking about!”

“It’s the safest option to getting him back safely.  He’s already attacked Virgil.  We don’t want you getting hurt as well,” John explained.

“He won’t hurt me,” Alan insisted.  “Let me talk to him.”

“First we’ve got to find him, and second, we can’t take that risk.  If he did hurt you, do you know what that would do to him when he comes to his senses to be told he’d hurt you or worse?  For your own safety Alan, please do as we say.  As soon as we’ve got him back we’ll let you know and you can come and see him.”

Alan looked decidedly upset, but in the end asked, “Promise?”

“Promise,” Gordon said.  “Now go lock yourself in your room.  We’ll be back as soon as we’ve rescued Scott from whatever predicament he’s got himself into, and try not to worry.  We won’t let anything happen to him.”

Alan reluctantly did as he was told and retreated to his room, whilst three of his older brothers began their search for the eldest; heading across the vegetable garden and into the jungle, allowing Gordon to track Scott as his military training had taught him.

The aquanaut paused, examined the ground then looked up at his brothers.  “This way,” he said simply and headed into the thick greenery.

o0o

His lungs were bursting with the effort and his legs were like jelly, but he had to keep going!  He’d somehow managed to escape that hellhole and he was never going back!  He’d sooner die than go back there.  He just had to keep moving; they’d be sending the dogs after him soon… he’d heard the stories, of prisoners being ripped to pieces by the savage animals who were also kept starved and he really didn’t want to die that way.  He forced himself to pause for a few moments to try and get his breath back and winced as his hard breathing pulled at the raw scars across his chest and abdomen, and used the time to look around him.

He guessed it had to be the height of summer; it felt so hot!  He dived into the cover provided by trees and lush greenery.  It was hard work, he wasn’t as strong as he used to be and the ground was continually slanting upwards, the angle gradually increasing.

It was exhausting and he was so thirsty.  It didn’t help that it was also rather humid.  He could feel the sweat trickling down his face; his chest, stinging the scars; down his back, soaking the t-shirt he had put on.  His sleep pants kept getting caught on wayward twigs and undergrowth as if they were trying to grab and hold him fast so his pursuers could catch him.

He stumbled across a large pool filled with crystal clear water and collapsed at its edge to gulp great mouthfuls.  It was surprisingly cold but refreshing.  Scott would have loved to have stayed longer and drink more, but he couldn’t remain in one place for too long.  He started at every crack of a twig, every sound of a leaf falling; of birds suddenly crying out.  It made his heart leap into his mouth; his breath quickened and he knew he had to move… now!

He wasn’t sure how good these particular dogs were at trailing over water, so he took a deep breath and waded a little way in.  He’d be okay, as long as it didn’t get too deep… he had to overcome his fear to throw the dogs off his scent!

The water was freezing, causing his breath to hiss from between his clenched teeth, but he pressed on, wading across the smallish lake until he got to the other side.  It reached chest height at one point and he felt his breath shortening, but it didn’t get any deeper after that and in fact got shallower.

Finally, he was out the other side.  The terrain got progressively steeper, the trees became fewer and then he was faced with nothing but moss and bare rock.  Towering above him was a huge twin peak.  He just had to get over that and he would be free!  Over the border.  He didn’t see or recognise the fact that he was on a tropical island and not in Bereznik.  Dehydrated, feverish and cold—despite the warmth of the sun on his wet clothes—his mind saw only what he expected to see; unfriendly surroundings of an enemy country, with people who were hunting him.

His footwear was not really suitable for climbing, but he didn’t have any choice, so he scrambled, slipped, skinned his knees, elbows and hands as he struggled upwards and onto a narrow trail.  Pausing to catch his breath, he looked back down into the valley and spied three figures following his trail.

Scott swore and started to make his way up the path to the top of the twin peaks.

Below him, Gordon spied a flash of blue and pointed.  “There he is!” he exclaimed and his two brothers followed his pointing finger.

“Shit!  He’s heading towards the cliff!  We need to reach him before he gets there!” John exclaimed.

“He’s weak, dehydrated and confused, we should be able to catch him before he reaches the edge,” Virgil said.  “Come on!”

With renewed vigour, seeing their target up ahead of them, they began scrambling towards the trail that would afford them an easier ascent and with every stride they gained on their brother, reducing the distance between them.

“Carry on going,” Virgil said as he broke off and went in a different direction.

“Virg?” Gordon questioned, but his brother just urged him on.

John nodded and split off in the opposite direction.  “Just keep following the trail.  We’re going to make sure Scott can’t give us the slip.”

“Copy that!”

It still took them an hour to pen Scott in, right at the top of the trail.  There was a sheer drop ahead of him; the trail went left and right along the cliff, but Scott saw only an escarpment between him and freedom.

Heart in his mouth, Gordon left his tranquiliser gun in its holster and held both hands up in surrender.  “Scotty, it’s me, Gordon,” he said, keeping his voice tightly controlled.  “Scooter, don’t you recognise me?”

Scott’s eyes were wide as he turned to face the ‘guard’; his breathing laboured as he stared at the man slowly approaching him.

Gordon was shocked at his eldest brother’s appearance.  Yes, his dad had told him he was in a bad way, but he’d expected after all these weeks that he’d look better than… this.  Gaunt, long hair, incredibly thin, wild eyed; swaying with weakness.  He couldn’t fathom how he had made it this far without collapsing.  His brother looked both desperate and as if he was on his last legs and Gordon could see he was also soaking wet.  He tried to keep his voice calm and low.  “Come on, Scotty, you don’t want to do this.  Come home, with me bro.”

“You’re not my brother!” Scott gasped, screaming at him.  “My brother isn’t in Bereznik!”

Gordon’s heart fell.  Shit!  This is worse than we thought! he mumbled to himself.  “Is that where you think you are, Scotty?  Bereznik?  You’re not there; you’re home.  Take a few deep breaths, come on, look at me and breathe.  You remember the exercises; in, two, three, four, hold… out, two, three, four, hold… come on, breathe with me.”

Gordon could see his two brothers carefully making their way towards Scott, along the cliff edge and he knew it was vital he keep Scott’s attention solely on him; keep him distracted so they could get close enough to either grab him or tranquilise him.

“Scott, please.  It really is me.  I’ll prove it to you.  Ask me something only we’d know.  Come on bro…”  He took another cautious step forward as Scott closed his eyes in thought, then snapped them open, despair on his face.

“I… I can’t remember… I… no!  NO!  You’re trying to trick me!”

Gordon swore under his breath.  He thought he was beginning to get through to him for a moment.  “I’d nev…” he stopped.  He was a prankster, of course he’d try and trick his brothers.  “Hey, Scotty, what am I famous for?  Come on tell me.”

Scott stared at him his eyes narrowing.  A trick question.  “You tell me,” he came back with.

“I’m the prankster of the family, the one who plays practical jokes on all of you.  Like putting dye in your shower head, glitter bombs in your clothes; do you remember that, Scotty?”  He watched the changing expressions cross his brother’s face.

“Yeah,” he finally replied.  “I remember.”  The hint of a smile crossed his face and Gordon dared to hope he was finally getting through to him.  He took another careful step closer then swore, as Scott’s head snapped up and the wild look appeared in his eyes again.

“Please, Scooter, let me help you… please!”

“Stay where you are!  Don’t come any closer!”  The voice was filled with a mixture of fear, desperation, despair and something else Gordon couldn’t quite identify, and froze as Scott took a step backwards, closer to the edge of the cliff.

“Scotty, please!  Don’t move, please!”

“I’m not going back to that hellhole!  I’d sooner die!”

“I promise you, with everything I am, that you’re not going back to that place.  I want to take you home, Scooter.  Please!”  Was that desperation Gordon could hear in his own voice?  He was doing a good job of keeping Scott’s attention on him alone, whilst John and Virgil edged ever closer.

“I’m not going back!” Scott screamed at him.  “I’m NOT!”  He took another step back towards the sheer drop of the cliff.  A few more and he’d go over the edge.  His eyes suddenly narrowed.  “Where are the other two that were with you?” he demanded.

Gordon thought quickly for a suitable answer that would satisfy his big brother.  “They’ve gone back for help,” he finally replied.

Scott shook his head; his expression now filled with a mixture of anguish, sorrow and… was that regret Gordon could see there?

Scott stepped back again, shaking his head and looking close to tears.

“Please Scotty!  Stop moving!  Please don’t move!”  Gordon didn’t care how desperate he sounded.  Perhaps that desperation would get through and reach him.  Virgil was now reasonably close to him, but if Scott turned, he’d see him, so he had to keep his attention on him.  “Scooter, I’m begging you, please!”

He took another step back.

“Please don’t!  Please think what your death will do to Alan!  You remember Alan, don’t you?  Your baby brother!  Just stay where you are!”  Gordon was now crying.  “Please…”

“Alan?” Scott looked totally confused.  He gasped, his breath hitching.  “Little Allie…”  He stepped back once more; the edge of the cliff crumbled under his feet and his arms flailed as he attempted to find his footing.

“SCOTT!” Gordon screamed, running forward, arms outstretched, but he knew he wasn’t going to make it.

A look of recognition appeared on Scott’s face as he began to fall.  “Gordon!”  He held out a hand but the second youngest was too far away.

“NOOOOO!”

Then there was a blur of movement as Virgil threw himself forward and somehow managed to grab one of Scott’s wrists as he hit the ground and slithered towards the edge himself.  John jumped forward and grabbed Virgil by his belt as Gordon finally got there and in turn, grabbed John.

Half hanging over the edge of the cliff, Virgil grunted as Scott’s weight pulled on his arm, and his eldest brother smacked against the side of the cliff.  Dazed, Scott looked up into his best friend’s eyes.  “Vir – Virgil?”

“Scotty, hang on!  I’ve got you!  Don’t let go!  Give me your other hand, bro!”

“I’m sor – ry Virg… please forgive me…  I can’t…”

“NO!  DAMMIT!  SCOTT! GIVE ME YOUR OTHER HAND!  NOW!” Virgil screamed at him.

“We’ve got you Virg!” John gasped.

He nodded and reached down with his other hand.  “SCOTT!”  He held his free hand out; his brother looked at it, then tentatively reached up and Virgil managed to grab it.  “I’ve got him!  Pull me back!”

John and Gordon heaved Virgil back from the edge of the cliff and he dragged his precious cargo back with him.  It took them a few minutes, but eventually they were back on solid ground, and Virgil enveloped his big brother in a bear hug.  He was wet, cold and shivering.

“Scotty,” he mumbled into his hair as he continued to hug him tightly, in an attempt to transfer some of his own body heat to him.  “Scotty.  You’re safe, bro.  We’re on the island.  No one can get you here.”  He rocked him gently in his arms.  “We’re here, we’re all here for you.”

Scott clutched at him tightly, scared to let him go, whilst John and Gordon knelt close, but did not touch him; just in case.  They stayed as they were until they had all calmed down.  Virgil went to straighten up so they could make the journey back to the villa, but Scott wouldn’t let go of him.

“Come on Scotty, let’s get you back to the villa; get you tucked up nice and cosy in bed.  We don’t want you to become ill again.  Do you think you can stand?”  His voice was gentle, soft, soothing.

“I – I don’t know… I’m so tired, Virg…  c – cold…”  He glanced nervously around, his eyes taking in the sight of his other two brothers.  “J – John… Gordon… I’m sorr…”  His head fell back, and exhausted blue eyes looked up into soft, liquid brown, then rolled back and he passed out.

Virgil pulled his limp body closer to his chest and looked tearfully at the matching wet faces of his two brothers.  “Let’s take him home,” he finally said, and they nodded.

o0o0o0o

[stitcher001]

The Road To Recovery

Sorry it's late! This chapter fought back! Scott's going home... providing they can get him on an aircraft...!!!!!!!

Warnings for this chapter: None really, except a bit of medical drug use.

Taken from my Collection oof Prompts, chapter 20, with augmentation and some new content.

Chapter 11 - Homecoming

Everything was fine until it came to boarding Tracy 10, the executive ten seater jet that belonged to Tracy Industries.  Scott’s sedation had been a mild one, meaning he was able to walk with assistance, but he wasn’t totally with it.

The military hospital was about as far away from the runway as they could get it and still be on the airbase and Scott had become increasingly agitated as they got closer to the hangers and the increasing noise associated with military aircraft coming and going.

A nurse had actually accompanied them in the jeep and was frowning in confusion.

“I don’t understand this; Captain Tracy should be conscious but not fully aware.”

“Did you give him a standard dose?” Sally asked as she sat holding Scott’s hand in an attempt to keep him calm and grounded.

“Of course.”

“Then that’s your problem.  Scott has a fast metabolism.  He’s probably almost burnt it out of his system.  What was the dosage?”

“0.25mg.”

“You should have given him 2mg extended release.  I’m surprised the 0.25mg even did anything!  Have you got any on you?”

“Actually, I have.  I wondered why the doctor gave me a couple of different doses.”

“Okay,” Sally said.  She turned her full attention to Scott.  “Hey, Scotty… how’re you doing?”

“N – noisy G’ma.  Don’t like it!  Can we go back?”

“I thought you wanted to go home, sweetheart.”

His confused but vibrant blue eyes stared at her.  “I do; I do want to go home!  Am I going home?”

“Yes you are, Scotty.  I need you to be very brave for me.  Can you do that?  The nurse is going to offer you a pill and I want you to take it.  Will you do that for me?”

He frowned.  “A pill?  What’s it do, G’ma?  You know I don’t like taking stuff.”

“I know you don’t, Scotty, but I give you my word, it won’t hurt you, it’ll just make you relax.  We’ve got a long journey ahead of us and you need to rest.”

“It’ll be all right Scooter, I’ll be right beside you every step of the way,” Virgil said as he handed him a water bottle, which his eldest brother took.

The nurse handed him a pill which Scott scrutinised for a number of seconds, before he looked at Virgil, then his father, and back to Virgil, who nodded encouragingly.

“I’ve never lied to you, Scott, you know I’m a terrible liar.  I promise you, it’s safe and I’ll be with you.”

“You’ve never lied to me,” Scott repeated.  He looked at the pill, then hesitatingly popped it in his mouth and helped it down with a few mouthfuls of water.

“Well done, Scotty,” Jeff said as he partly turned in the front passenger seat.  “We’ll be home before you know it.”

The driver of the vehicle took his time driving to the hanger where Tracy 10 was parked to give the drug time to get into Scott’s system.  By the time they got there, he was almost asleep and no longer flinching at the noise going on around him.

Jeff thanked the driver, then got out of the vehicle to begin the preflight checks, leaving Virgil and Sally to get Scott on board the jet.  Scott wasn’t too steady on his feet by now, so Virgil placed his arm around his waist, and one of Scott’s over his shoulder and taking the majority of his brother’s weight, got him up the steps, into the plane and into one of the luxurious leather chairs, fastening the seat belt.  He grabbed a cushion from the overhead locker and placed it under  his head.

“You okay there, Scotty?” he asked softly, and was rewarded with just a faint ‘mmm,’ in response, which made him smile.

The nurse gave her patient the once over to make sure his vitals were all okay, then wished them all a pleasant flight and left the plane.  Sally carded a hand through Scott’s hair then took the seat across the aisle, whilst Virgil went up to the cockpit to assist Jeff.

“How is he?” Jeff asked as Virgil strapped himself into the copilot’s seat.

“Practically unconscious.  I reckon he’ll still be out of it when we get home, so we may have to carry him.  Glad we brought a stretcher with us!”

Jeff nodded.  “Thought it would be prudent to.  Okay, flight checks complete, let’s get clearance and go home!”

“Copy that!” Virgil enthused.  He grabbed the radio mike and contacted the tower to obtain clearance to taxi.  Jeff had already logged the flight plan earlier in the day.  They would head southeast over Turkey, the Middle East, India and Southeast Asia using what was called great-circle geometry which is the shortest path between two distant point curves towards the equator and then into the Southern Hemisphere.

Tracy 10 was given clearance to taxi to the end of the runway, then cleared for take-off and within minutes they were heading skywards.  Once they had gained altitude, Virgil left his seat and went back into the cabin to put Scott’s seat in a horizontal position so he was more comfortable.

“Flight time about three and a half hours, Grandma,” he told Sally as he was unfolding a blanket and tucking Scott in.  Virgil looked at his brother’s face.  Relaxed in sleep, he looked younger than his 23 years.  He sighed heavily.

“Virgil?” Sally asked.

“Are we doing the right thing, Grandma?  Bringing him home?”

“I truly believe we are.  We’re a tight knit family; he’ll make faster advances in his recovery being with us.  It will take time and a lot of patience, but I think Scotty will recover.”

Virgil nodded, but sighed again.  “Gordon and Alan are going to get a shock when they set eyes on him, but I guess we’ll handle that when we get home.”  He looked at his brother one final time, then faced his Grandmother properly.  “Coffee?  Hot chocolate?” he asked her.

“Hot chocolate, please.  Thank you, Virgil.”

He nodded and went to the back of the cabin to the kitchenette to make the drinks, including two coffees, one for his father and the other for himself.

He handed the chocolate to his Grandmother, and did one more check on Scott.

“It’s okay, Virgil, I’ve got him,” Sally said quietly.

“Thanks, Grandma,” the young man whispered.  He gave her a tentative smile, before returning to the cockpit where he handed his father a coffee and then sat back down in the copilot’s seat.

“Everything okay back there?” Jeff asked, glancing at his middle son.

“Yeah.  He’s out for the count.  I’ve put the seat in a horizontal position and a blanket over him.  With luck he’ll stay out of it until after we land.”

Jeff nodded.  “That’s good.”  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Virgil took a sip of his precious coffee before speaking.  “Dad?”

“Son, I just need you to understand that the coming months are not going to be easy on any of us.  Scott’s in a bad place right now.”

“I know that, Dad.  And I know there’s a chance that he might not ever recover… but I have faith in him.  Look at what he’s survived so far!  By rights we should have been burying him…” Virgil paused for a couple of seconds.  That thought didn’t bear thinking about and it made his heart clench at the thought.  He swallowed and then continued.  “But he’s here, with us.  I can’t believe he’s come this far to have it taken away from him, dad.  I just won’t believe it.  Scott is the strongest of all of us mentally.”

“But he’s been through so much already in his life, Virgil… a lot of that was my fault, I openly admit it and I’m ashamed of how I behaved after your mother died.”

“But we all rallied round.  Scott recovered.  We’ll rally again to help him.”

“I know that,” Jeff admitted.  But secretly he was wondering if it would be enough this time.  Yes, he’d now heard the facts of what had happened to his eldest however, if truth be told he was having difficulty in comprehending the totality of it all.  “It’s just… I know we have to be positive, but we can’t let that blind us.  I want—need Scott to recover, but this is a situation we have never faced before.  We have no common ground that we can meet in.  Sure, I crashed on that island and busted my leg up pretty good but thankfully, Kyrano was there to save me and look after me.  Scotty was on his own with no support and subjected to unspeakable cruelty.  All we have is our imagination and I can tell you, after hearing what happened to him from his own lips, mine’s been running riot ever since.”

They drank their coffees in silence after that, each thinking their own thoughts of what the next few weeks and months would bring and what they could do to help Scott recover.

Three hours later and Virgil was asking for clearance for them to land on Tracy Island.

“This is Tracy Island to Tracy 10.”  John’s voice.  He’d managed to beat them home.  “You are clear to land.  Wind speed two point six knots, direction south-west.  Welcome home.”

“John!  Didn’t expect you home for another couple of days,” Virgil said, surprise evident in his voice.

“I pulled in a few favours.  Had to be here to welcome Scott home,” he said.  “Do you need me to arrange anything?  The infirmary is ready if that’s where you want Scott.”

“Would you get saline and glucose IVs standing by in readiness,” Virgil replied.  “I’d sooner be safe than sorry.”

“Copy that, they’ll be ready to go when you get to the infirmary.  Anything else?”

“Please keep Gordon and Alan away—at least for the moment.  Their… eagerness might overwhelm Scott.  I think he’ll still be sleeping when we get home, but best to be cautious.”

“Copy that.  I’ll divert them somehow.  See you in five.  Out.”

They landed without incident.  With Tracy 10 safely in the hanger, Jeff and Virgil quickly completed the post-flight checks before getting out of their seats.  Sally opened the cabin door to find Kyrano waiting.

“Welcome home, Dr Tracy,” he said in a soft voice.  “John is with Gordon and Alan.  I am here to help you move Scott.”

“Thank you, Kyrano,” Sally replied.  The steps were deployed and Kyrano entered the plane just as Virgil was finishing setting up the hover-stretcher.

“Kyrano,” Jeff said warmly, shaking his hand.

“Mr Tracy.  The way is clear to the infirmary.  John has Gordon and Alan in hand.”  He moved to where Scott was still asleep in his chair and frowned at the gaunt figure wrapped in a blanket.  “I see my culinary skills will be required,” he added.

“If anyone can get some weight back on him, you can, Kyrano,” Virgil said quietly, scared that Scott might wake up.

The three of them carefully transferred the unconscious patient to the stretcher.  Kyrano was shocked at how easily it was done.  Scott appeared to weigh hardly anything, and beneath his hands, he could feel bones.  Scott had always been lanky, but not like this.  High protein, high calories and his favourite apple pie would be required in large quantities!

Jeff and Virgil took Scott to the infirmary, Sally followed, whilst Kyrano unpacked the plane, making use of robotic carriers to move the luggage before joining them in the infirmary.

It didn’t take long to make Scott comfortable in one of the beds.  John had been in to prepare it in readiness.

“Grandma, do you want monitoring on him?” Virgil asked.

“I think Scotty’s had enough of being wired up and monitored.  Let’s try him without any.  He needs to feel comfortable in his own home, not like he’s in a hospital.  If the situation changes and it’s warranted, then of course we’ll wire him back up; but he’s home now.  Let’s just hook him up to the IVs and scan him to check his vitals and make sure he’s okay.”  Sally unconsciously stroked the top of her eldest grandson’s head, then leant over and kissed his forehead.  “Welcome home, Scotty.  We’re going to make you better,” she whispered quietly, then drew away and turned to look at her son and grandson.  “He can’t be left on his own,” she said, speaking softly.  “He’s likely to be confused when he wakes up so he needs someone he recognises here with him.  Once we’re satisfied that he’s stable, we can move him to his own room, and then the work really starts.”

“I’ll take the first watch,” Virgil replied immediately.  “I want to be here when he wakes up.”

“Very well.  Gordon and Alan will have to wait until we’ve gauged Scott’s mood before we let them see him.  If he doesn’t want to see them, then they won’t.  I know it’s harsh, but he needs to be comfortable at least for the first few days until he’s settled in.  Then we’ll revisit.  Kyrano, the hospital has provided a diet plan for him, so I will leave that in your more than capable hands.”

He nodded in understanding.  “I will ensure Scott eats well, Mrs Tracy.”

“Thank you, Kyrano.  Let’s give Scott at least three days to settle in, then we will embark on desensitising him.  We’ll work out a plan.  There will be ups and downs and I expect there will be more downs than ups in the early days, but hopefully that will improve over the next few months.  I have to provide a weekly report to the US Medical Corp; that includes his vitals and prudent notes on his progress both physical and mental.  Virgil, you can help me with that as you’re training as a paramedic.”

“Yes, Grandma.”

“Right, everybody except Virgil, out.  We don’t want to crowd Scott when he regains consciousness.  Go on, off you all go.”  She stood up somewhat wearily and stepped away.

Jeff placed an arm around her shoulders.  “Are you all right, mom?” he asked.

“Just tired.”

“You should get some rest, Grandma,” Virgil said looking at her and seeing the exhaustion in her face.

“I will, but first I think I need something to eat.”

“I will rectify that at once,” Kyrano said bowing and exiting.  That was the cue for everyone else and they began to leave.

“You make sure you all get something to eat, and then get some rest,” Sally said just before she walked out the door.  “We have some challenges ahead, so make the most of any rest you get.  I’ll see you later.”

And suddenly, Virgil was left alone with his brother.  He looked down at him, his expression soft with love.  Although he was the more spiritual member of the family he wasn’t religious as such, but he took a few moments to pray to his mother, asking him to watch out for Scott and guide him back to his family as much as she was able.  Then he pulled himself together and did as Sally had asked, and hooked Scott up to an IV of fluids and nutrients, as he hadn’t had much to eat or drink in the last few hours.

Ten minutes or so passed when there was a knock on the door.

Virgil glanced up as it opened and John came in.

“John!”  Virgil got up and gave him a short hug, which was returned.

“Virg.  Good to see you again.  Dad said Scott was still asleep.  Has there been any change yet?” the astronaut asked him.

Virgil shook his head.  “Not yet.  Guess it just goes to show how sick Scott is still; he’d usually be awake by now.  I hate it, John.  Look at him!  I want our Scotty back!”

John sighed.  “Perhaps now he’s home, things will start to improve,” he replied, but he kept the other thoughts to himself.  We may never get our Scotty back.  This may be the new normal, but I hope to God it isn’t.  It’ll destroy Virgil and Alan.  “He just needs time.  I have no idea what Captain Scarlet said to him, but there has been a slight improvement since then.  We just have to keep on supporting him in his recovery.”

“I know, but…”  Virgil stopped.  He was on an emotional rollercoaster that was playing havoc with his feelings and he hated it.  Something was niggling at him but he didn’t know what it was.  “Something’s wrong, I can tell.”

John leant over and gave his younger brother another hug.  “Dad told me about the interview and debrief.  No details; just that it was tough going.”

“It was awful!  Don’t get me wrong, JAG were really good with him, but it was hard to listen to… and I have a sneaky suspicion he played it down for our benefit, but his therapist was… well almost pleased that he broke down.  He said he could start to heal now that he’s spoken about it all.  But I just have this niggle in the back of my mind.”

“It’ll be okay, Virg.  You’ll see.  Gordon and Allie are desperate to see him and almost threw a tantrum when dad said they couldn’t.  Not until Scott says he’s ready.”

“Probably for the best.  They’re going to have a huge shock when they see what he looks like.  But Gordon’s an adult now and Alan almost is.  Scott’s going to have to let them visit him sooner rather than later.”

“Gordon wants to help with the physio… says he can use his Olympic training to help Scott regain strength and fitness.”

“Sounds like a plan.  We just need to let Scott settle in.  He’s never stayed here before.”

“He’ll come around.  We’ve got some spectacular scenery, places to explore, warm weather, although we’re going into winter, but it’s not so bad here.  And most importantly, he’s got us.”

“Yeah, he’s got all of us,” Virgil agreed.  He glanced back at the figure asleep in the bed still.

“Can I get you anything?  Coffee?”

Virgil gave him a wistful smile.  “Coffee would be wonderful, thank you.  Kyrano went to prepare some food so…”

“I’ll bring you something.  Be back shortly.”

Virgil smiled at him and watched him leave, then returned his attention to his big brother, once again sitting by his side, hoping he would wake up soon.

He didn’t have long to wait.  A few minutes later and there was a sigh from the bed and a low groan as Scott shifted slightly.

“Hey there, Scotty,” Virgil said softly so as not to startle him.  “How are you feeling?”

His brother stiffened as he opened his eyes.  The surroundings were unfamiliar and Virgil realised they should have put him in his bedroom rather than down here in the infirmary, or better still, gone back to Kansas.  Scott had never stayed on the island on his previous visits.  The house hadn’t been ready, so nothing would be familiar.  The Kansas farmhouse would still feel like home to Scott, but the doctors had recommended he stay somewhere warm; where the heat would be more beneficial to his healing and mental wellbeing.

Virgil saw his breathing shorten as panic made its presence known.  “Hey, Scotty, it’s okay bro.  You’re at home on the island.  You remember the island, right?”

Scott turned wide eyes to his right to see his middle brother sitting by his side.  “Vi – Virg?”

“Yeah, it’s me.  All your brothers are here.  Dad finished the villa.  It’s quite something, and it’s nice and warm here to help you heal.  Are you thirsty?”  He slowly and carefully reached for the beaker of water and offered the straw to his mouth.  It was tentatively taken between his lips and he sipped cautiously for a few mouthfuls, then let it go so Virgil could put it down.  “Better?”

Scott nodded, but didn’t speak.

“It’s good to have you home, Scott.  May I?” Virgil was asking permission to take hold of his hand.

Again the eldest nodded and Virgil slowly and gently took Scott’s hand in both of his; using his thumbs to gently caress it as if to soothe away all his pain.

“Feels… nice… Virg…” Scott said so softly that the middle brother almost didn’t hear it.

Virgil smiled kindly at him.  “I’ve missed you so much, Scotty.”  He lifted his brother’s hand to his lips and kissed it.  He would have much preferred to give him a hug and kiss his forehead, but he didn’t want to push his luck with how Scott would react to such close contact.  He just wanted him to start talking; he didn’t care what it was about.  The painful stuff could wait until he was feeling more comfortable.

Scott was looking at him, a strange expression on his face, one that Virgil couldn’t quite identify.  “Missed… missed you too, Virgil.  Missed all of you.”  It was said quietly as if he was ashamed of admitting it.

“Scotty, I so wanna give you a hug right now,” Virgil muttered.

The expression on the eldest’s face altered slightly.  “Is that for your benefit or mine?” he asked quietly.

“Mine.. no, yours… no, both,” he admitted.

Scott’s gripped tightened on one of Virgil’s hands and pulled him closer.  The younger went willingly.  “Oh Scotty, it’s so good to have you home safe!” he repeated as he sobbed into his brother’s shoulder.  “I’ve really, really missed you!”

“Miss – missed you too, Virg… missed all of you,” Scott said again.

They clung tightly to one another for several minutes, then Virgil became aware of his big brother’s hold becoming slack.

“Scotty?” he asked quietly.

“I’m tired, Virg… so tired…”

Virgil drew back and carded his fingers through Scott’s hair.  “Then sleep, bro.  Sleep as long as you want.  I’ll be right here for you.”

“You… you’ll st… stay?”  The words were quiet, slightly slurred as he began to slip from consciousness again.

“I’m not going anywhere, bro.  I’m right here, by your side.  We’ve got all the time in the world.  Sleep.”

Scott’s eyes closed as he succumbed to his exhaustion and Virgil sat down again, his eyes drawn to the fading evidence of his brother’s ordeal.

Track marks on his arms and around his neck showed the evidence where his captors had drugged him during his internment in Bereznik in an effort to get him to divulge the information they wanted and also to heighten his pain receptors during torture; therefore it came as no surprise that he reacted violently to the sight of needles and especially hypodermic ones.

Virgil sighed as he sat quietly by his brother’s bedside.  It was so good to have Scott back home where he belonged, but that relief was diminished when he saw the condition his eldest brother was in.  To say it had been a shock was the understatement of the century.  Initially he thought their father had brought the wrong person back from Bereznik when they’d first set eyes on him in the military hospital.  The bearded, dishevelled sack of bones covered in  bruised, battered and bleeding skin couldn’t possibly have been his dynamic, constantly-on-the-go brother; a young man usually full of vitality and life reduced to… to that.

The middle brother had cried openly at the sight and sought comfort from John, his immediate older brother, and they had hugged and cried together both in relief and sorrow.

For a while, it had been touch and go as to whether Scott would actually even survive, but something within him refused to die and despite a few close calls, including him stopping breathing and crashing, he had survived and was now on the mend… at least physically.  Mentally was another matter.

Initially he had refused to talk about what had happened to him; not to his father, his brothers or the therapists, and he needed to talk because he couldn’t start the mental healing until he did.

He’d spent ten weeks in hospital whilst his broken bones healed and the dieticians attempted to get some weight back on him with an extremely carefully controlled diet and although his weight had risen sufficiently for him to be allowed home, the doctors were seriously concerned about his mental health.

Scott spoke little, spent most of his time, just lying in his hospital bed staring at the ceiling.  His vivid blue eyes were haunted, he started at the slightest noise, cringed if his brothers spoke too loudly; drew back if anyone moved too quickly towards him.  It was clear that he was not the same man that left to join the Air Force and his family wondered if they would ever get some semblance of that man back at some point.

They’d finally had a breakthrough when representatives from the JAG office arrived to interview him.  If Virgil had thought that had been a tough interview, then the debrief that followed just a day later was even worse.  He knew his brother had played down what had been done to him, but that didn’t make it any easier to listen to, but the therapist got what he wanted.  Scott had broken down after imparting the information, then collapsed with exhaustion.  The therapist firmly believed that he would now start to heal.  It wouldn’t be smooth sailing, but there was now a good chance that Scott would at least make a partial recovery.

John arrived back with a tray containing what was obviously one of Kyrano’s recipes because it smelt divine, along with some much needed coffee, but his face showed anger, which made Virgil frown.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asked, as his brother put the tray on the mobile table and pushed it towards him.

“Dad’s flying to New York.  TI business he says.”

“What?  He can’t leave now!” Virgil hissed.

“That’s what I told him, but he’s just packed a bag and should be leaving any second now, leaving us to pick up the pieces… as usual.”

“Why can’t he work from here?”

“He says as he hasn’t been in a TI office for a number of weeks, he needs to put in an appearance, but is confident that we can take care of Scott until he gets back.  Then he went on about his pet project and that it needed funding from TI so he had to make sure everything was ticking over as it should be so that budgets could be reassigned as required.”

“Blow his pet project!  Scott needs him here!”

“Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.  Fell on deaf ears…” John paused as the faint sound of Tracy 1 was heard taking off.  “You, me and Grandma then,” he finished.

Virgil closed his eyes and heaved a huge sigh.  Dad was deserting them again, when he was needed the most.

“It’ll be okay, Virg.  You’ll see, and Gordon’s going to be helping as well.  We’ll manage…. We have to manage.”

“Sounds like a plan.  We just need to let Scott settle in.  He’s never stayed here before.”

“He’ll come around.  We’ve got some spectacular scenery, places to explore, warm weather, although we’re going into winter, but it’s not so bad here.  And most importantly, he’s got us.”

“Yeah, he’s got all of us,” Virgil agreed.  He glanced back at the figure asleep in the bed still.

“Eat your meal before it gets cold,” John ordered.

“Yes sir!”  He took a mouthful and hummed with pleasure.  “Oh but this is good!  You should go and get your share, John.”

“I will.  Let me know when Scott wakes up.”

“Oh, he was awake briefly, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open.”

“I’m sorry I missed that, maybe next time.  Okay, I’ll see you later; I’ll relieve you in a few hours, you need to get some sleep too.”

“I’ll sleep on one of the beds here.  I promised him I wouldn’t leave him, John.”

The elder brother sighed and nodded.  “Okay, but I’ll still relieve you in a couple of hours.  You can’t stay awake twenty-four seven!”  He placed a hand on his shoulder, then left quietly.

o0o0o0o

[stitcher001]

The Road To Recovery

The debrief has finished; Scott has collapsed with exhaustion and has been put to bed by Jeff and Virgil, but it's taken a toll on him and on Virgil, with both suffering nightmares. If Scott wants to go home, he has to a) put on some weight, b) be able to lead a slightly normal life i.e. use the shower! Accept running water on his body.

Warnings for this chapter: Forced sedation, mental anguish, a bit of swearing, self-doubt, but it ends upbeat.

Previous chapters can be found on AO3 here.

Chapter 10 - And So It Begins

It was the worst night so far and not only for Scott.  Virgil woke in his hotel bedroom, screaming at Mendelski to leave his brother alone as the Colonel pinned Scott face down across a table and attempted to violate him.  Virgil was chained to a wall, unable to reach him or help him.  His brother was so weak from lack of food and the beatings that he couldn’t put up much of a fight, although he tried his best resist the assault.  Thankfully Jeff arrived by his son’s bedside and managed to shake Virgil out of it before the nightmare could continue any further.

“Virgil!  Virgil!  Son!  It’s okay, it’s all right, everyone is safe,” he cooed as he hugged him tightly as his son screamed Scott’s name over and over.

It took about a minute before Virgil regained control of himself and managed to calm himself into emitting great heaving sobs into his dad’s shoulder as Jeff rubbed gentle circles on his back.

“It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real,” Jeff soothed.  “Scott’s fine, he’s safe.  Your Grandma’s with him.”

Virgil ran a hand over his face.  “Oh… God… it was awful… I – I couldn’t get to him and that bastard was…” he couldn’t carry on.

“This was why I didn’t want you to be in that debrief, Virgil.  You have a beautiful but sensitive, artistic soul.  I was scared that hearing what Scott had to say would do this to you.”

“He needs me, dad.  I have to go to him, right now!”  He pulled himself free from his dad’s hug and got out of bed.  “I can’t leave him to face his nightmares alone; I need to be there for him.”

“He’s not alone, your Grandma’s there,” Jeff tried to reassure him.

“No, it has to be me.”  He disappeared into the ensuite for five minutes, came back out and hastily got dressed.

“It’s two in the morning, Virgil.”

“I know what the time is!”  He grabbed his jacket.  “I’ll see you later!”

“Virgil!  Wait!  Virgil!”  But it was too late, Virgil was gone.

For Scott, it was a similar dream, but this time, Mendelski was assaulting John, then Virgil, Gordon, and then Scott really lost it as the form changed to Alan.  The pilot thrashed violently in his bed as he fought to be free of the imaginary shackles that held him, screaming his brothers’ names, pleading, begging for Mendelski to stop and to use him instead.

Sally didn’t even get a chance to try and wake him before the door flew open and a doctor and nurse came in.  They took one look at the situation and called for assistance.  A couple of orderlies entered and forcibly held Scott down, which only made him fight more as the doctor nodded at the nurse who disappeared for a number of seconds, then reappeared with a hypo in her hand.

Still struggling, Scott woke up to being restrained and then panicked as he saw the hypo in the nurse’s hand and started screaming in sheer terror.

“NO!  NO NEEDLES! NO DRUGS!  PLEASE!  PLEASE DON’T!  PLEASE…  You… you can do what you… what you like to me…. Just don’t hurt… don’t hurt my brothers… pleeaassee….”

His struggles began to lessen as the needle went into his arm and the plunger pushed.

“N – n ooooooooo, pppllleeeaassseee.”

Scott relaxed completely as the drug sped through his system and the orderlies released him and left.

“I’m sorry we had to do that,” the doctor said quietly to Sally.  “We were expecting something like this after his debrief.”  He efficiently rewired Scott up to the various monitors, so they could observe him for the rest of the night, then looked at Sally.  “Are you all right, Dr Tracy?”

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” she said softly.  “You know he’s terrified of needles.  I’m sure I could have talked him down from where his mind was.”  She gently brushed Scott’s hair off his forehead, her expression sad.

“When we heard him screaming, we were afraid he’d either hurt himself, or you,” he replied gently.  “He may not remember when he wakes up; he may think it was part of the nightmare.  It should enable him to get a good night’s sleep.”

Sally nodded and sighed.  “I know you’ve done what you thought was best.  Thank you.”

The doctor nodded and left quietly, leaving Sally to contemplate her sleeping grandson.

“Oh Scotty, I am so sorry, I really didn’t want them to do that to you, but it must have been some nightmare you were having.  Sleep well, kiddo.  Know that we love you and want to do our very best for you.”  She leant over and kissed his forehead before sitting down again.  Her mind was filled with what he had been screaming and the one thing she knew for certain, it had involved all his brothers and that line kept bouncing around her brain… you can do what you like to me, just don’t hurt my brothers…  He had been thrashing around as if desperately trying to get free from something to get to his brothers.

My dearest, Scotty.  You are so selfless and so not deserving of what happened to you.  My poor boy.  Tears flowed down her cheeks as she stared at his now totally relaxed features.

Eventually though, exhaustion caught up with her and her eyelids began to droop.  She was just dozing off when the door opened and Virgil came in, his face frowning in worry.  Sally was instantly awake again.

“Virgil?  What are you doing here at this time of night?” Sally asked him.

“Scott needs me,” he replied.  He came up to the bedside, stopped and frowned.  “He looks so peaceful… I thought… I thought he’d be having nightmares.”

“He was.  The doctor has sedated him, for his own safety.  He was quite violent.”

Virgil’s shoulders slumped.  “I shouldn’t have left him.  I could have prevented this!”  He took hold of his brother’s hand and allowed his thumb to gently brush over the back of it.  “I love you, Scotty.  I’ll protect you, I promise.”

He looked at his grandmother, his dark chocolate eyes bright with tears that were threatening to fall.

“We need to get him home, so he can heal.  He’s not going to get better in this place.  He needs our love, peace, quiet and sunshine.  The island would be perfect.”

“The island also holds a lot of dangers for him in his current state of mind,” Sally said as gently as she could.

“I’d be there; I’d watch out for him.”

“Virgil, sweetheart, you can’t watch him twenty-four hours a day.  It’s not physically possible, and you have a thesis to present.”

“I don’t care about my thesis.  Scott is more important.”

“Scott wouldn’t think that.  He would want you to complete your degree, you know that.  He would never forgive himself if he thought he was the reason for your failing.  Look, perhaps between all of us, plus Kyrano, we can keep him safe; help him recover.  But it’s not going to be an overnight fix.  It could take months, years even.”

“I know, you’ve told me that, but I don’t care!  He’s my big brother and I want him home.  We know how to look after him better than strangers!”  He stopped and took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry, grandma.  It’s just so hard…”

Sally stood up and gave him a hug.  “I know it is, kiddo, but if we all pull together, we can get through it, I just know.  We’re Tracys!”

He gave her a feeble smile.  “Why don’t you go and get some sleep in a proper bed, grandma.  I’m here now.  I’ll stay with him.”

It sounded very tempting.  “Well… if  you’re sure?”

He gave her a wan smile.  “I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Virgil.”  She gave him a brief hug, and left.

As soon as she was out of the door, Virgil kicked off his shoes, shifted Scott over slightly and climbed onto the bed beside him, wrapping him in his arms.  “No more nightmares for you tonight, Scotty,” he said softly, then kissed his temple and settled down for what was left of the darkness.

He was just dozing off when his phone vibrated in his pocket.  Frowning slightly, he brought it out and looked at it.  A message from John.  You’re probably asleep at the moment, but I’m available on this number for another four hours.  How’s everything going?  J.

John, I’m awake and with Scott. V.

A couple of seconds later, the phone rang and Virgil quickly answered it.

“John.”

“Hey Virgil.  It’s what almost 3:00 am there?  Why are you still awake?”

“Nightmares.”

“You, or Scott?”

“Both of us.  I was in the hotel, but I felt I needed to be with Scott and when I arrived, I found out he’d had a really bad one and the doc has sedated him.  If it was even half as bad as mine…”  His voice trailed off and John saw him shudder.

“How’s everything going, apart from the nightmares?”

“Scott had his debriefing yesterday,” Virgil told him.  “God, it was awful, John.  Don’t get me wrong, the military handled it very well.  They were understanding and sympathetic, but that didn’t stop Scott from breaking down.”  He stopped as he felt his voice crack at the memory.

“It… it’s what he needed, Virgil,” John replied softly.  “He needed to talk about it; he needed to break down so that he can start to recover.  He probably doesn’t think that; he’ll think he’s weak and a failure, but he’s not.  And now we can all help him recover.”  He paused.  “So you were there?” John finally continued.

“Yeah.” Virgil shuddered.  “It was… harrowing… hearing what he went through… I… I couldn’t have survived that, John… and as for… as for that bastard… he assaulted him, John… on numerous occasions… but I’m just thankful that he didn’t… you know.  He…”

“You don’t have to say anymore Virg.”

“We need to get Scott home, John.  He’s not going to get better here… or in an institution.  He needs his family and somewhere nice and peaceful to recover.”

“Has anything been said about a release date?”

“Not directly.  They want him to gain more weight and they need to see that he can… well lead a slightly normal life… as in have a shower.  He’s terrified of water hitting his body.”

“We need to start desensitising him.  He’s got a bathroom attached to his room.  Why don’t you switch the shower on, say at a lower pressure with him outside the room and try and get him closer over time?  We’ll also need to start dropping things around him so sudden bangs and crashes don’t make him panic; things like that.”

“That’s a good idea.  Thanks John.  We’ll get on that later today.  The sooner we start and all that…  I understand dad gave Brains orders to give priority to getting our infirmary ready.  Wonder if we can manage to desensitise Scott enough to be able to take him home?”

“It might take a while… don’t hurry it along.  It’ll take as long as it takes.  As it is, I suspect we’ll have to sedate him to get him flown home.  And… Scott may have lost his nerve after being shot down.  He might… he might never fly again and—”

“NO!  HE’LL FLY AGAIN!  HE LIVES FOR FLYING!”  Virgil stopped and took a deep breath.  “Sorry…” he glanced down at his big brother, who didn’t stir.  They must have given him some pretty strong sedatives, Virgil mused.

“It’s okay, Virgil.  This is trying on all of us.  I’ll be back in just over a week, so I’ll be around for a while to give you all a hand with Scott if we can get him home by then.”

“He’ll like that… to be surrounded by all his brothers…”  Virgil idly stroked Scott’s head and brushed that persistent lock away from his right eye.

“I have to go,” John finally said.  “Keep me updated on his progress.  In the meantime, try and get some sleep.  I suspect we need to take advantage of any we can get going forward.  See you in about a week.”

“Yeah.  Take care, John.  Love you.”

“Love you too, and give my love to everyone else, especially Scott.”

“Will do.”

o0o

Scott felt surprisingly rested when he woke up about four hours or so later; warm and safe as a familiar scent assailed his nostrils.  Virgil.  He’d recognise that cologne and the smell of that hair gel anywhere.  Unconsciously he snuggled closer and managed a tiny smile as his brother grunted, shifted and tightened his hold on him, just managing to decipher the mumbled, “S’kay Scotty, I’ve got you.”

The last thing Scott could remember was being upset at hearing the mention of an institution and him screaming that he was tired and wanted to go home.  What had happened after that he had no idea.  Had he passed out?  What?  He hated not knowing, and yet, he felt slightly lighter of heart this morning.  Had talking about what happened in the debrief really helped him after all?  He shuddered as his mind drifted back.  He wasn’t ready to revisit that memory yet.

Virgil tightened his grip even more.  “I got you Scotty,” he whispered.  “No one’s gonna hurt you on my watch…” he half snorted, half snored and Scott felt like crying with the love his bear of a brother was giving him.

“Oh Virg,” he whispered.  “I really don’t deserve you.”

There was a sigh and then:  “Yes you do, you big lummox, now shut up and get some more rest.”  Lips pressed against Scott’s temple.  “Love you,  Scotty.”

“Love you too, bro,” he responded back.  He went to shift his position slightly and that was when he became aware of the monitoring equipment on him.  What the hell?  Why have I got this on me, again? he wondered and pulled the offending wires off his body.

Virgil sighed again and shifted, woken up by Scott’s fidgeting.  “What are you doing?” he asked him.  “Go back to sleep.”

“Why was I wired back up?” Scott asked.

“Grandma said you had a bit of a rough start to the night.”

“Oh.  I – I don’t remember anything.”

“Good.  Now go back to sleep.”

“’Kay.”

But it was not to be, for at 07:00, the door opened to admit their father.  Virgil humphed and gave up on trying to get anymore rest.  He untangled himself from his brother and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Mom told me what happened last night,” Jeff said quietly.  “How’s he doing?”

“He doesn’t remember what happened—at least not at the moment,” Virgil replied.   “He’s going to want to know.  What will we tell him?”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Jeff said quietly.

“Can we take him home, dad?  Please.”

“The infirmary isn’t ready yet.  We need to ensure we have everything ready for any worse case scenario.”

“Then how long before we can take him home?”

“I spoke with Brains before I came here.  The infirmary should be ready in about a week.”

“A week… okay.  We can work with that, right?”

“I believe so, although you, young man have a thesis to present.  You can’t miss that.”

“I – I don’t want to leave him, dad.  I – I can’t leave him.”

“You can… and you will,” Scott mumbled, resurfacing from his doze.  “You’re not gonna throw away your degree, Virgil.  I refuse to be the cause of that.  Please, go present your thesis… for me.  I can’t bear the thought of you resenting me later on because I prevented you from getting it done.”

Virgil turned to him.  “I’d NEVER do that, Scotty.  I want to be here, to look after you.”

“No, Virgil.  You must go.  I would never forgive myself for being the cause.  Have you got the date for it?”

“Yes.  Next Wednesday.”

“And have you prepared for it?”

“Almost, but—”

“You can practice on me, it’ll help keep… keep me grounded.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Jeff said, smiling slightly.  He looked at his eldest, who appeared relatively calm and rested.  “And how are you feeling this morning, Scotty?”

Scott pondered for a few moments.  “I actually feel… well not too bad.  What happened yesterday?  I’m a total blank after that conversation about institutions.  Did I… did I do anything stupid?”

“Don’t worry about that now—”

“Oh God!  That means I did!  What did I do?” Scott demanded.

Virgil squeezed his hand.  “You didn’t do anything stupid, Scotty.  You just demanded to go home, and then you collapsed with exhaustion.  We put you to bed.”

Scott looked down at his hands which were resting in his lap, Virgil holding one of them.  “I made a fool of myself,” he finally mumbled.  “In front of my CO, JAG, you.”

“You did no such thing!” Jeff said firmly.

“My CO’s not going to want me back…” Tears thread their way down Scott’s cheeks.  “I’ve… I’ve lost everything.”

“On the contrary,” Jeff said, placing a hand on Scott’s knee and giving it a gentle squeeze.  “Colonel Henderson said he couldn’t afford to lose you and hopes you’ll recover to return to your post.”

Scott blinked a number of times, not quite believing what he was hearing.  “Wh – what?” he finally asked.

“He knows he’s not going to get you back in a couple of weeks, but he desperately wants you back, Scotty.  I swear that’s the truth.”

Virgil squeezed his hand and gave him a smile, but Scott simply sat there, trying to take it all in and the seed of doubt was sown in his mind… would he ever get better, or would he be afraid of his own shadow for the rest of his life?  He couldn’t even go into his bathroom without leaving the door open and he’d yet to have a shower; undergoing hand washdowns instead.  And what about flying?  Would he be able to fly a plane again?  Had he lost his nerve?  Or would his mind be forever haunted by Raven not being able to eject, and then being shot in the head?  Sure they’d flown him out by helicopter and then transport, but he’d been in a coma and not expected to survive the journey to the base hospital in Germany; and yet, here he was.

But was it worth it?  If he couldn’t fly, what was the point?  What if he couldn’t be fixed?  What if this was what he was now?  Useless, a burden… he didn’t want to be a burden; but the thought of flying—especially in combat—was currently beyond reach.  His breath hitched.

“Son,” Jeff said, squeezing his knee tighter.  “Scotty, it’s okay; just relax.  You have nothing to worry about for a few months.  Let’s just concentrate on getting you out of here, okay?”

His eldest nodded and Virgil squeezed his hand again in encouragement.  “We can do this, bro, you’ll see,” he said softly.

“I’ve got Brains, Gordon and Allie working to get everything ready as soon as possible.  Just need you to gain a few more pounds, son.”

Scott nodded but said nothing.  He was attempting to get his emotions back under control, but he was having a little difficulty.

There was a knock on the door and catering arrived with his breakfast.  It looked a lot more appetising this morning; scrambled egg on toast, with fruit juice and tea.  No coffee.  In addition there was a chocolate flavoured protein drink that he was supposed to sip throughout the morning.  But it was a lot less than what he would normally eat.  The hospital were gradually increasing his intake, but it was taking time.  They had switched him to ‘a little and often’ diet and were also starting to increase his protein intake to help build his muscle mass back up.

With his father and brother watching him, he actually managed to finish the meal, much to their delight, but then came the next obstacle.  Getting him to have a shower.

A nurse arrived, all bright and breezy.  “Good morning, Captain Tracy,” he said cheerfully.  “We need to get you into the shower.”

Scott froze and had he still been wired up to the monitors, they would have indicated that his heartrate spiked very dramatically.

“Wait!” Virgil said authoritatively.  “Just wait a minute.  You do know his history?”

“Yes, of course I do,” came the still cheerful reply.

“Then you’ll know he currently has a strong aversion to running water.  We’ve only just managed to get him to step into the bathroom, you can’t expect him to go willingly into the shower.  It needs to be done in stages.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t got time for this.  I have several patients to take care of.”

“Then leave my brother ‘til last.”

“But…”  the nurse’s  voice trailed off as he saw the panicked expression in Scott’s eyes and knew he wasn’t going to get him into a shower willingly.  “All right,” he said.  “You’ve got about two hours, then I’ll be back,” and he left the room.

Virgil looked frustrated.  There was no way they were going to desensitise Scott in two hours.  It was likely to takes days—and that was being optimistic!  He looked at his brother who had the appearance of a deer mesmerised by headlights.

“I – I can’t…” Scott mumbled.  “I can’t!  Don’t make me!  Please don’t make me!”

“Scott,” Jeff began, “we’ve got to start desensitising you and the only way to do that is for you to face your fears, but we’ll do it gradually.  How’s that sound?”

“Gradually… how?”

Virgil regurgitated John’s suggestion.  “How about I go turn on the shower—just a little—whilst you stay here.  You’ll hear the sound of the water, but be nowhere near it, then we gradually get closer and closer, then get you into the bathroom with it running… you see where I’m going with this?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Scott said softly.  He heaved a huge sigh, then nodded.  “Do it.  Go turn the shower on.”

“You sure?”

“No, but if I don’t start to try to lead a normal life, I’m never gonna get out of here, or back in a plane…”

“That’s the spirit!” Virgil enthused.  He smiled, left the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.  “I’m going to switch it on, now,” he called back.  “Three… two… one…”

The sound of water hitting the tiles sounded.  Scott flinched violently, his breath hitched and he gripped the side of his bed until his knuckles went white.

“You okay, Scotty?” Jeff asked him quietly.

There was a very jerky nod from the eldest.

“How you doing out there?” Virgil called from the bathroom.

“He’s getting there!” Jeff called back as he noticed his son gradually begin to relax his death grip on the bed.

Virgil appeared in the doorway and gave his brother a thumbs up signal, which Scott acknowledged when he finally managed to let go of the bed and raised his own rather shaky thumb.

“I’m leaving it to run at this lower pressure. See if you feel up to coming a bit closer in a little while,” Virgil said.

It took an hour to get Scott outside of the ensuite door, but he couldn’t seem to go any further.  But at least it was a start.

Needless to say, the nurse—when he returned—didn’t manage to get him anywhere near the shower, so it was a basic washdown instead.

It took two days for Scott to be able to be in the ensuite with the shower running, and his nights were filled with nightmares about it.  The biggest hurdle now, was actually getting him in it with the water running, so they started with it still running and Scott being encouraged to stick his hand in and allow the water to run over it.  Gradually they increased the amount of body the water ran over and after a week, he was sort of in, but just couldn’t let it run onto his face.  A full on panic attack occurred the first time some water had accidentally hit him in the face, but he had screamed for the doctors not to sedate him as he had sat huddled in the corner of the shower, shaking.  He had to overcome his fear.

Virgil suggested reducing the shower to a mere trickle and see if he would be able to accept that trickling down the back of his neck.  Things got rather unorthodox after that, with both him and Scott naked in the shower.  Scott seemed to be able to handle things better if his brother was with him.

“You know you’re gonna have to get used to doing this alone, or people are gonna start talking!” Virgil tried to joke.

Scott gave him a rather twisted smile.  “Yeah, I know… sorry.  I’m trying Virgil, honestly.”

“I know you are Scotty, and you’re winning.”

Scott still couldn’t stand to have running water on his face, but finally he allowed it to run from the top of his head down his back.  Virgil gently massaged his head and then shampooed his hair which helped him relax slightly.

Then late, one night, when he was all alone, having persuaded his family to all go and get a night’s sleep in their hotel rooms, he tried it on his own.  He had his hand on the shower controls and turned it on, letting the water flow with him out of reach, then he placed one cupped hand in the shower and brought it slowly to his face.  He could feel his heart pounding, but kept telling himself he was the one in control of the flow of water.  He felt it trickle down his face, then slowly he repeated the action again and again, until his heart rate slowed.

He angled his hand higher and let a little spray hit his face.  The water was warm and actually quite soothing.  Then he plunged his head under for a millisecond then withdrew it.  He waited for his breathing to even out and tried again and again and again.  He managed about 3 seconds then couldn’t do anymore, but he felt pleased with himself.  He had finally gotten into the shower on his own and allowed the water to pour onto his face, even if it was only for a very brief time.  It had taken almost a week, but he’d gone from panicking in his bed to getting into the shower.  It was a huge step.

Virgil was surprised and so pleased for him the following morning, having returned from presenting his thesis.  “Scotty!  You’re doing it!” he had enthused.  “I am so proud of you!  At this rate, you’ll soon be back home!”

Home!  He so wanted to go home, to find some peace and quiet.  Feel the sun on his skin; hear the birds sing, the wind in the trees.  Freedom.  That word meant everything to him.  A word he had done his best to cling to in the darkest of times, and now it felt as if it was almost in reach.

Virgil had managed to contact John and given him an update on the past seven days about  how his suggestion had worked with the shower, how Scott had come on in leaps and bounds, albeit slowly, and John had finally relaxed for the first time since his big brother had been recovered.  Of course he knew Scotty wasn’t fixed.  Far from it, but he was making progress.  That’s all that mattered.

The infirmary was finally ready.  The fluid on Scott’s lungs had reduced enough that the doctor was willing to let him travel and seeing the equipment available at their home, raised both eyebrows, but agreed he could go home.  So preparations were made.

Jeff ordered that Gordon and Alan were not to be in sight when they arrived home.  Kyrano would help him get Scott to his room and Jeff suspected with Kyrano’s cooking, they would soon be able to put some meat on the invalid’s bones.

Thus, it was on a cold spring morning, wrapped up in many blankets that Scott was transported to the airport, to begin his journey home, lightly sedated to make the journey more comfortable.

Jeff contacted the island.  “Kyrano, tell the boys, Scotty’s coming home…”

o0o0o0o

[stitcher001]

The Road to Recovery

The next installment has arrived... sorry, but Scott goes through the wringer with this chapter, and Virgil's pretty close behind him!

Warnings for this chapter: it's a debrief, there's no gory details, but it's pretty intense for mental anguish and breakdown; some remarks about sexual assault and some swearing. Nothing explicit, but you have been warned! Earlier chapters may be found on AO3 here.

Chapter 9 - Debrief

Jeff stood frozen as he took in the sight of his eldest son, cowering in the corner, hands and arms protecting his head as he sobbed and begged.

“P – please don’t… dad… please…”

Don’t what? Jeff thought frowning as he glanced at his mother.  He shrugged his shoulders in confusion.  “I don’t understand,” he whispered to her.  He went to move round the bed to go to his son, but Sally stopped him.

“Give him a minute, Jeff.  Let’s see if he comes out of it on his own.”

“But he’s in distress about something I’ve done.  What have I done?”  He saw the expression on his mother’s face change to one of disbelief.  “What?” he demanded.

She ignored him and concentrated on her grandson who was obviously in great distress, but she had to take her time and not rush in.  She was hoping that Scott would freely divulge the issue.

Scott continued to mumble to himself.  “I – I’m sorry, dad… I’m sor – ry that… that I’m a … a disappointment… I try… try so hard… but it’s… it’s…” his breathing became laboured as he became even more distressed.

Sally glanced at her son and saw his eyes widen.  The muscle in his jaw began to twitch and she wondered—no, hoped—that Jeff had had a lightbulb moment regarding his eldest son.

Jeff moved swiftly round the bed to kneel next to his sobbing son.  “Scotty, son… it’s okay, I know it’s hard,” he began.

Sally’s shoulders drooped in dismay.  The penny hadn’t dropped at all.  She felt like pulling her hair out, or cuffing her son round the head to knock some sense into him, but her immediate concern was for her grandson.  It was clear from what he was sort of saying that he felt he was a disappointment to his father, that he was never good enough and that was so far from the truth.  Scott had beaten all his dad’s records in the Air Force.  That alone should have been enough to  make his father proud of him, let alone reaching the rank of Captain by the age of 22, two years ahead of his father.

“He can’t do the debrief tomorrow,” Jeff muttered and Sally was inclined to agree, although if Scott was forced, it could be the step to breaking him, so he could be rebuilt or, it could all go horribly wrong and… she didn’t want to go down that path at all.  At the end of the day, Scott was incredibly strong mentally, even if he didn’t feel it at this precise moment, and he was recovering at least physically.  If they could get him over this next hurdle without too much further damage, he could start to heal mentally as well, and be more prepared for the war crimes trial that was currently being put together.  She had no doubt he would be called upon to give further evidence.

“Jeff, step away, let me near him,” Sally ordered, and her stare as her son looked up at her was enough to make him do as he was told.  She took his place, knees complaining slightly as she got down on the floor next to her grandson and began to talk calmly and quietly, and gently laid a hand  on his leg.  “Hey, Scotty.  It’s grandma.  I’m here, kiddo; you’re safe in the hospital…”  She kept talking to him, patting his leg gently.

It took several minutes, then his hold on his head began to relax slightly. “G’ma?” he queried in a whisper.

“Yes Scotty.  It’s me.  I’m right here with you.  Come on, kiddo, let me give you a proper hug, eh?”

More minutes passed, then Scott gradually began to uncurl his lanky form and moved to melt against his grandmother, folding into her as her hug tightened around him.

“There you go.  That’s much better now, isn’t it?  Your safe with me, Scotty.”

“Yeah, G’ma.  Safe.”

Jeff looked on from a little distance away, unsure what to think about the situation.  Sure, he’d crashed on the island when he’d been in the Air Force; busted his leg pretty good too.  He’d also had his SERE’s training, but he’d never had to put it to the test like his son had, so that was something else Scott had over him.  He became lost in his own thoughts for a moment, until Scott’s next words brought him back to reality with a bump.

“G’ma?”

“Yes, Scotty?”

“D’you think… dad… dad will ever be… will I ever be… be good enough?”

Sally glanced up sharply at Jeff and raised a questioning eyebrow, as if to say, well, will he? She returned her attention to her grandson.  “Oh Scotty, you are more than good enough.  Never doubt that my boy.  I’m so very proud of you.  Of the man you have become, of your achievements.  I’m fit to burst with pride.”

“He… he’s not…”  Fresh tears started.

Jeff went to protest, but Sally silenced him with another look.  Scott was upset and disorientated.  Jeff’s words wouldn’t mean anything to him in his current mental state.  They needed to be said when Scott was calm, relaxed and more cognisant.

“Oh Scotty, I know he’s never said it, but I’m sure he is very proud of you.”

She wasn’t sure if her words had gotten through to him or not, but she realised he was becoming very heavy.

“Scotty?”

“Tired,” he came back with.

She waited a few more minutes until Scott had totally relaxed, then indicated for Jeff to come and lift Scott back onto his bed, which he did; moving slowly and carefully so as not to wake him.

“What did he mean, I’m not?  Not what?”

“Oh Jeff, for a smart man, you can be incredibly stupid!” Sally hissed.  “All Scott ever wanted from you, was to obtain your approval and hear that you’re proud of him, and you’ve never done either of those things.  All you’ve done is push him harder and harder.  Nothing he does is good enough for you.”

“That’s not true!” Jeff objected.  “I am proud of him; he has my approval—”

“And when did you actually tell him this?” she interrupted.

Jeff opened his mouth, and it hung open as he searched his brain for an answer and found he didn’t have one.  “He’s my first born, he has to be tough if he’s going to take over from me eventually,” he finally answered.  “I have to prepare him for every eventuality.  It’s a brutal world out there.”

“You think he doesn’t know that?” Sally snapped back.  “Look at him, Jeff!  Look at your son and what he’s been through, what he’s suffered!  Right now, he needs his father to love him, to put his mind at ease, that he’s not a disappointment to him.”

“He’s not a disappointment!”

“Then tell him that!  He’s hurting.  You’re hurting him, son.  Don’t you think he’s been hurt enough?”

Jeff bristled with the pain that everything his mother had said to him was true.  “I – I…” he began, then abruptly turned on a heel and walked out.  Sally’s shoulders slumped.  It was going to be a long night.

o0o

Virgil was livid with the lid off when he found out about the debrief.  “No!  No they can’t!” he raged at his dad the following morning.  “He’s not ready for it!”

“Will he ever be ready?” Jeff countered.  “Perhaps it would be for the better if we get it over and done with, then we can really concentrate on helping Scott get well.  Remember, if the war crimes trial takes place, he could well be required to give evidence there and that will be in front of a larger number of people.  We can help prepare him for that.”

Virgil steamed silently.  He saw the point, but having seen the state Scott had gotten into at the interview, he was absolutely dreading the debriefing.  “I want to be there with him,” he finally said.

“Virgil, it’s a military debrief, they may not let you.”

“Well, they can’t court martial me for trying to be there!  What time is it due to start?”

“10:00 am.”

“That’s in 90 minutes time!  Who’s with him at the moment?  Grandma?”

“Yes.”

“Right, let’s get going!”

“Virgil… breakfast?”

“I’ll grab something on the way!”

When they got to Scott’s room, Sally was standing outside and told them Scott was up and now she was going back to the room for some decent sleep.  He’d had a reasonable night—not perfect—but he had managed to get about 4 hours sleep.  When they went in, they found him dressed in an Air Force t-shirt and fatigues and sitting at the small table in the room.  Sally had given him a shave and combed his rather unruly hair into some semblance of order, but the front was long enough to keep flopping over into his right eye.  He looked a little more like his old self, but the hollow gauntness of his face and the fact the t-shirt swamped him slightly indicated he was far from how he should look.

“Scotty,” Virgil breathed, remembering to approach him slowly.  “Hey bro, beginning to look pretty good,” he enthused.  “May I?”  He indicated he wanted to give him a hug.  Scott nodded.

“Hey Virg,” Scott replied quietly as his younger brother enfolded him carefully in his arms.  “Thanks for coming.”  There was a slight waver in his voice, and Virgil knew immediately he was feeling apprehensive about the forthcoming meeting.

“I’ll see you through this, Scotty.  I swear.  You and me together, bro.”  He continued to hug him until there was a knock on the door.  It was 9:45 am.

“Come in,” Jeff said and the door opened to admit Alistair Lowe; Scott’s therapist.

He introduced himself to the rest of the family, then asked Scott for permission to approach and sit down, which the Air Force captain nodded to.

“Captain Tracy, I’m here to ensure your welfare during this debriefing.  If at any time you need it to stop, just say.  I have the authority to make that happen, okay?  No one is here to make a judgement; it is purely a fact finding debrief of your side of the mission and… what happened whilst you were held captive in—”

“Don’t say the word!” Virgill snapped, laying a soothing hand on Scott’s knee.

“Very well.  I will brief Colonel Henderson and Major Clarke to that effect.  Water will be arriving shortly.  Is there anything else you need?”

“I – I want my brother to stay.”

“This is a military matter—”

“I stay, or the debrief doesn’t happen,” Virgil interrupted.  He stood up at that point, in a show of strength, his broad frame taking on a somewhat threatening stature.  “You say you are here to ensure my brother’s welfare?  Well, part of his welfare is that I stay.”

“Virgil,” Jeff began.

“No dad.  Scott isn’t well enough for this debrief, but they are insisting, so they will agree to this, or it’s not happening.  And that’s final.”

Scott grasped his brother’s hand, feeling a little choked at how his brother was standing up for him, in a complete role reversal, when Scott had stood up to bullies who had been giving his little brother a hard time at school.  It was a silent ‘thank you,’ from him.

Lowe finally nodded.

There was another knock at the door.  It was a member of the catering staff with a large jug of water and some glasses, which she placed on the table.  Some more chairs arrived and then, just before 10:00, Scott’s CO and the JAG team arrived.

Captain Tracy struggled to his feet to salute them.  Virgil steadied him as he wavered slightly but still managed to see the shock on Henderson’s face at his brother’s appearance before he masked it.

The officers all returned the salute, then Henderson spoke up.  “At ease, Tracy.  Sit down before you fall down.”  He gave a small smile.  “Good to see you, son.”  He held out his hand which Scott shook before partially collapsing back onto his chair.  Henderson looked at all those present.  “Colonel Tracy,” he said, shaking Jeff’s hand.  “You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, and so are you,” Jeff responded.

“And who are you, young man?”

“Virgil Tracy, one of Scott’s younger brothers.”

Henderson immediately picked up on the lack of ‘Sir’ following his reply.

“You’re not military, are you?”

“No Colonel, I’m not, but I’m not leaving my brother’s side.  I can keep my mouth shut.”

Henderson noted the familiar look of fire in the eyes of the young man.  With that expression, there was no doubting the two men were related and very much Jefferson Tracy’s sons.

“Very well.  I believe you already know Major Clarke and Lt Pearson?  Lt Lowe has already introduced himself.  Shall we get this show on the road so we can let Captain Tracy rest and recover?”

Everyone took a seat, apart from Jeff, who moved back to perch on the bed.  Virgil glanced at him, then at Scott, who stiffened, then sighed and shrugged slightly.  He was a disappointment to his father, he knew that, so he might as well let him hear the whole sorry story so he would know just how big a disappointment he was.

Lt Pearson was recording the proceedings once again.

The debrief was called to order, a role call was done, then Henderson spoke.  “Captain Tracy, we have the debrief from the rest of your squadron, but we need to hear your side of things.  I know it was a few months ago, but see if you can remember as much as you can about the mission.  Now, the drop was successful and you were on your way back to friendly airspace.”

Scott took a sip of water before starting to talk.  No one said anything about noticing that his hand was shaking slightly.

“Yes sir.  We were about 100 miles from friendly air space, which equated to around 11 minutes at the speed of the transport.  I remember asking my squadron to keep their eyes peeled, and asked if Rescue 1—the transport plane—could get any more speed out of his crate and they agreed to redline their engines for that time.

“I think a couple of minutes passed, then my navigator reported bandits approaching from the east at 30,000 feet, Mach er… 1.7 and I ordered the squadron to prepare to engage, but no firing until the enemy did.  I told Rescue 1 to keep heading for the border and that we’d do our best to keep the fighters away from them.”

“Can you remember how many enemy fighters, Captain?” Henderson asked.

Scott paused to take another sip of water.

“It was 24, sir.  We shadowed them and then I think we were about five minutes from the border when they broke formation and attacked and fired on us.  So I ordered my squad to break, gain height and keep them off the transport and engage.  I shot one down, then Hawk got two on his tail as did I, so we played chicken.  That got rid of another four.  The rest of the squad were engaging and managed some hits.  My squad had a couple of hits, but they were able to limp back home.  I remember glancing at my watch and saw we were two minutes out.  Vulture had 3 fighters on his tail, I got one and damaged another, and by then Rescue 1 reached friendly air space, so I told my squad to run for home…”  He paused and swallowed, took a deep breath and carried on.  “That was when my plane was hit.  Raven screamed; said he was bleeding pretty badly and that he… he couldn’t feel his legs.”

Beside him, Virgil placed a hand on his thigh for support.

“My plane started spluttering, but I kept heading for the border, and then the engine gave out.  My wingman told me he was leading the squad back to assist, but I ordered them to stay away.  Hawk said I was breaking up and carried on coming.  I was losing height and speed fast and knew we had to bail out.  I ordered my navigator to blow the canopy, but then he told me there was a town ahead and if we did, we’d hit it and kill civilians, so I told him to bail out and I’d make sure the plane missed the town, only his canopy release failed.  I let Hawk know and the squad stayed with me as long as possible but their fuel was running out so I told them to go.  Hawk said he’d be back as soon as he refuelled.”

Scott stopped for a number of seconds.

“Please continue, Captain, you’re doing fine,” Henderson encouraged.

Scott swallowed and then took a couple more sips of water.  His throat was suddenly becoming very dry.

“I – I spied a wood in the distance and hoped to get as close as possible so we could attempt to hide in there, but we crashed about a mile short of it which I think put us 5 miles from the border.  I think I was knocked unconscious, but I’m not sure how long for.  All I knew was we had to get out and try and make a run for it, as there’d be people from the town coming to investigate.  I blew my canopy, and then wrestled Raven’s.  He was out cold, so I dragged him from the plane, heaved him over my shoulder and started walking.  I didn’t get very far before a vehicle arrived.  I was told to halt or they’d fire, but I kept going and… and they shot me in the leg and we went down.  I got to my knees, and was kicked in the side.

“Raven was coming round and moaning in pain.  I tried to reach for him, but was dragged some distance away.  An officer grasped my chin and welcomed me to… to his country and asked me if they should shoot me as a spy.  I guess I smart mouthed him by saying he couldn’t do that because I was in uniform, and got a rifle butt in my gut. Two guards dragged me to my feet and asked if Raven was my navigator.  I asked them to help him as per the Geneva Convention and received another blow in the gut.  Another couple of guards dragged him to his feet, and he was screaming in agony.  I – I tried to reach him but… the Captain of the guard took out his sidearm and… and…” Scott gave a choked half cry, half sob.

“Captain Tracy, are you all right?” Lowe asked him, as he watched Scott’s breathing become ragged.  He looked at Henderson and the JAG team.  “Give him a minute,” he said.

They waited patiently for Scott to continue.

“They… they shot him in the head,” he finally managed to get out.  “They… they knocked me out.  I don’t know what… what happened to Raven.  I woke up in a small dark cell, I think it was two days later after the guards beat the living daylights out of me… I… everything hurt.”

Scott went silent.  Virgil reached for his hand under the table and squeezed it firmly.

It was all quiet for a couple of minutes before Henderson spoke up again.  “Thank you, Captain Tracy.  Your account matches that given by your squadron, and thank you for filling in the gaps I… I know it must have been exceedingly painful to recount that final part.  Let’s take a five minute break, then we’ll proceed with the details of the internment in the camp.”

Virgil placed his other hand on Scott’s back and began to gently rub circles there.  “You’re doing okay,” he whispered to him.  “I’m right here, Scotty, okay?  Lean on me, take my strength.”  He gave Scott’s hand another squeeze and was rewarded by the slightest of nods.  “Get some more water down you.”  Virgil let go of his hand temporarily whilst he refilled the glass and put it closer to his brother, then held his hand again.

In the end they stretched the break to ten minutes, but it still went far too quickly for Scott’s liking.  Major Clarke cleared his throat.

“Captain Tracy, you kindly identified some prisoners for me the other day, and confirmed that it was Colonel Mendelski in charge of the camp you were interned in.”  He paused, and Virgil couldn’t help himself.

“Have you got the bastard in custody?” he asked.

Clarke jumped at the sudden outburst, but recovered and shook his head.  “No.  Unfortunately Colonel Mendelski is still at large and appears to have gone to ground.  Spectrum are continuing their search for him.”

Virgil gave a snort of disgust, fidgeted, then settled down again, knowing that he now had to main control of his emotions for his brother’s sake, because this was going to be dark and downright ugly.

“Captain Tracy, would you tell us what food and water was like, please,” Clarke began, deciding it would be safer to start on a subject that wouldn’t inflict to much suffering on the young captain.

“I – I didn’t get anything for the first two days,” Scott replied quietly.

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing.”

“When did you get your first nourishment?”

Scott managed a snort at that sentence.  “If you can call it that,” he replied in disdain.  “They must have had someone spying on me, or listening out, because when I regained consciousness, they dragged me out of my cell into a really bright room.  I was sat in a chair and handcuffed to it.”  He paused and swallowed.  “That’s… that’s when I first met… him.”

“Him?  As in Mendelski?”

Scott nodded, then remembered that he had to speak for the record.  “Yes sir.”

“What and you tell us about him.  Anything you can remember that may help us find him.  How tall he is; his mannerisms, anything at all.”

“He’s about six two; broad shouldered, that photo was pretty accurate and he’s… and he’s a sick perverted bastard!”  He was aware of Virgil’s hand tightening on his and was thankful for it.

“What can you remember of the conversation?”

Scott winced at the memory.  “Er…” He’d never forget it.  He swallowed.  “He was looking forward to having a ‘little chat’ as he put it and then asked if I’d heard of him.  I had, but I decided to say I hadn’t, and for a second I thought he was going to use his swagger stick on me, but he didn’t… at least not at that point.  He had… he had a complete file on me.  Whose son I was, my medals… stuff he shouldn’t have known.”  He paused and swallowed, shut his eyes for a couple of seconds, took yet another sip of water as if to gather his courage and carried on.  “Then… then he told me I was handsome and where I got my looks from.”  He glanced briefly at his father then picked a spot on the small table to stare at.  “Then he… he grasped my chin and forced me to look up at him and told me it would be a pity to mar such beauty.”

Beside him, he felt Virgil stiffen and this time it was he who squeezed his younger brother’s hand to keep him calm.

“I jerked my head back as he attempted to run a finger down my cheek, then he shoved his swagger stick hard under my chin to force my head back further and said he could be kind and considerate, then called me Scott as we were going to become very good friends.  The swagger stick wandered downwards towards my groin.”  He stopped and shuddered at the memory.  “I fell back on my SERE training with name, rank and service number and he rammed that swagger stick into my midriff and winded me and he said he enjoyed a challenge but would be generous as it was our first meeting and I should think about my position.  He even mentioned about asking dad if he would be willing to pay for my freedom.”

He sensed rather than saw his father stiffen and straighten up at that remark.

“He ordered me to be seen by the doctor, so they took me to their infirmary.  I had to strip, shower and then the doctor fixed me up, gave me some antibiotics.  He came in before I had a chance to get dressed and was eyeing me all the time whilst I got back into my flight suit and made some uncomfortable remarks.”  Colour flooded his pale skin as he remembered and thankfully, Clarke didn’t ask about them.  The major had taken one look at Scott’s heightened colour and drew his own conclusions.  He had heard about Mendelski’s preference for beautiful men from other prisoners.

“Once I was dressed, they took me back to my cell.  There was watery slop of a stew and a cup of water waiting for me.”

“How often did they feed you?”

“Once a day, if I was lucky.  Some days, after an interrogation had finished, I… I couldn’t move to reach it; I was either in too much pain or too weak from what they’d subjected me to.”

“What about hygiene?” Clarke asked.

“A damp, dirty mattress to sleep on and a bucket in the corner.”

“Nothing else?  No blankets?  No washing facilities?”

“No.  Although every now and again when I was strung up naked, they’d turn a hose on me and blast me with freezing water and leave me to dry if I started bleeding too much.”

“Captain, I’d now like you to describe what was done to you,” Clarke said softly.  “Are you able to do that?”  He gave the airman a look of compassion, but not pity as Scott winced, did nothing for a number of seconds, then gave a jerky nod.

“I – I c – can do that, but it’s going to be all mixed up.  They… they came for me at all times of the day and night.  I quickly lost track of time; never saw daylight. Stuff might not be in the right order because they drugged me and beat me.  Stripped me, suspended me from a hook so my toes could hardly touch the floor… used a cattle prod on me, hit me with sticks, c – cut me, punched me, broke my bones, strangled me… tied… tied me to… to a table, gagged me, put a cloth bag over my head and waterboarded me, or they’d hold my head down in a tub of water and let me almost drown… they liked that one… to hear me coughing and trying to expel the water before putting me under again and again.  They liked to be… inventive… I never knew what they were going to do to me next.”

Scott was breathing heavily.  On his other side, Lowe ran a scanner over him, then whispered quietly to him.  A muscle in Scott’s jaw twitched and he shook his head, keeping his eyes averted from everyone.

“Lieutenant?” Clarke asked the therapist.

“I was asking the Captain if he wanted another break, sir.  I’ve checked his vitals; his heartrate is highly elevated and oxygen sat is lower than I’d like, but he’s insisting on carrying on.”

“Very well.  But Captain, you must tell us if you need a rest, all right?”

Scott managed a feeble nod.

“What information were they after?”

“At first it was the normal stuff… strength of foreign forces, how we operated, what spies were in the country, our plans to invade B – B – their country.”

“Can you explain what you mean by ‘at first?’”

“Those questions went on… I don’t know how long.  The pain got so bad, I told them a pack of lies to get some relief… but that… that backfired on me and…” he tried to suppress a sob at the memory. “They beat me so badly I… I thought I was going to die… I… I even wished I had.  Then, then they gagged me and waterboarded me and somehow still expected me to give them information, but I couldn’t.  The gag prevented me from saying anything.  They stopped asking questions towards the end; just carried on torturing me because they could.  I remember… a guard… whispering… if I let him ram his cock up my sweet ass it would all stop.”

“When you say ‘him,’ you’re referring to Mendelski?”

Scott answering nod was somewhat jerky.

“But you didn’t.”

“N – no… but I… I…”

The scanner emitted an alarm and flashed red.  Lowe placed a hand on Scott’s arm.  “Steady, Captain.  It’s all right.  We can stop.  No one wants to distress you too much.”

Scott shook his head.  “I – I considered it for… for about a millisecond and realised he’d throw it back in my face.  That bastard wanted me to crawl to him and offer myself to him.  He even told me he wouldn’t hurt me anymore because there were plenty of other soldiers they could work on.  I – I couldn’t let that happen.”

“And where was Mendelski whilst you were being interrogated?”

“A lot of the time he was there, watching, a smile on his face.”  Scott’s face contorted at the memory.  He shuddered as he remembered the colonel ogling his naked body.

“I’m sorry Captain, I have to ask you this… was watching all he did?”

Scott hunched up at that question.  “You know what he did!” he almost screamed back.  “But… but if you want the sordid details, he – he ran his hands over my body, touched me intimately, trying to get… get my body to… to respond to… to him; licked me, whispered obscenities in my ear, describing what he’d like to do to me and attempted to kiss me whilst the guards looked on, grinning and laughing!  I fought… I fought so hard, but I couldn’t… couldn’t stop… stop him!”

With surprising speed and agility, Scott threw himself from his chair and into a corner curling up into a ball, rocking, trying not to break down totally.  Lowe immediately stood up.

“Enough!” he said to Clarke.  “We’ll take a 30 minute break!”

Lowe stopped Virgil from rushing to his brother.

“Slowly!” he ordered.  “He’s not in a good place right now.  It’s good it’s coming out, but we have to move slowly.  He needs you.  Talk to him softly and approach slowly.  I think he’ll prefer to have you close rather than me.”

Virgil managed to get a grip on his own emotions and nodded slowly.  The lullaby left his lips softly, but the notes wavered slightly.

Henderson looked round and saw the pained expression on Jeff’s face knowing it probably matched his own.  Captain Tracy had been missing for 13 weeks; been at the mercy of that pervert for all that time; day in day out; never knowing what was going to happen to him next.  He was his best pilot and he hoped the young man he had grown to admire and tried to protect wasn’t broken beyond the ability for the professionals and his own family to fix.  The Colonel felt sick to his stomach after hearing his testimony and it wasn’t over yet.  When this debrief was finished, he was going to get drunk to try and wash away the memories of what Scott had stated; of the pain he had endured.

Jeff desperately wanted to go to his son; wrap him in cotton wool and whisk him away to the island; to safety.  He knew his son had been assaulted, but he hadn’t realised to what extent; and his one small comfort was that he hadn’t been raped.

It took Virgil 17 minutes before he was able to wrap his brother in a much needed hug.  Henderson and Pearson had left the room for some fresh air; Clarke went to Jeff and spoke to him.

“I am truly sorry we are having to put Scott through this interview,” he began.  “Your son is a remarkable young man.  I know he may not feel that way, but the information he has provided has been of more use than many other interviews I have carried out recently.  It will go a long way to getting convictions against those who have committed these crimes and serve the justice deserved.  Perhaps it will even help to prevent this kind of thing happening in the future.”

“All my son wanted to do was help people.  Flying escort to the relief aid was his best way of doing this and for what?  To be shot down, to be tortured by those he was trying to help.”  Jeff stopped and took a couple of deep breaths.  “I’m sorry if I sound bitter… but I am.  There isn’t an ounce of malice or arrogance in that boy’s body.  He didn’t deserve what happened to him; none of those prisoners did.”

“Then let us hope and pray that his testimony will go towards stopping it happening again in the future.”

In the end, they broke for over an hour, getting some lunch, although Scott refused to eat anything despite Virgil’s best attempts to get him to have even a bite of a sandwich.  The only thing he did manage was to get Scott back on his chair.

Major Clarke approached him and spoke softly.  “Captain, you have done extremely well, and on behalf of everyone present I thank you.  We are almost finished here.  Do you think you will be able to continue today?”

Scott had finally stopped trembling, but he was extremely embarrassed about his conduct during the interview.

“May I call you Scott?” Clarke asked, and gave a gentle smile as the Captain nodded.  “Scott, you have conducted yourself with honour.  I am truly sorry I had to ask some of those most probing questions, but they are required, if we are to bring justice for prisoners like yourself.  You have absolutely no reason to be embarrassed about anything that has gone on here today, do you understand me?  You survived in the most dire of circumstances for which your family is eternally grateful.  Now, will it be all right if we begin in five minutes?”

Scott nodded again, but still said nothing.  Clarke thanked him and returned to his seat.  Virgil and Lowe returned to Scott’s side; the former giving him a hug and whispering in his ear that he was so proud of him for being able to divulge the information.

A couple of minutes later Henderson, Pearson and Jeff reappeared and took their places.

“Note, we are reconvening at 15:00.  Captain Tracy, when I originally showed you the photographs of the… camp officers, you pointed to one and said he was innocent.  Please will you expand on that answer.”

“I – I never knew his name,” Scott almost whispered.  “But if he was one of the guards to escort me back to my cell, he never pushed me through the door; he always led me in and if I was in a really bad shape, he’d make sure he put me on the mattress, and that the food and water were in reach.  The final time I saw him, he apologised and said not everyone was in favour of the war; that he wasn’t a bad man, but that he had to try and protect his family.  He hoped that I would remember that not everyone had treated me harshly.  I don’t know if he was like this with everyone, but he was with me.  I hope the other guards didn’t treat him badly because of the attitude he displayed towards me.  I ask that he does not stand trial.”

“That will be so noted,” Clarke said.  “Now, I have your medical record as part of the evidence.  I am not going to read the list of injuries out, but is it true to say that towards the end you were extremely ill—dying in fact?”

Scott again took a deep breath.  “I – I don’t know how many weeks passed before I…” he paused, uncertain.  Virgil squeezed his hand once again and it gave him the courage to continue to say what he had to.  “Before they… they broke me and I gave up.  Apart from the physical torture, they had also been mentally abusing me, telling me I was a disappointment to the Air Force, to my family; that no one would come for me, that they would break me and I would die here, alone and be forgotten.  I ignored it at first… when I still had fight left in me, but after I don’t know how long, I guess I… I started to believe them and I… I gave up, resigned to the fact that I was going to die.”  Those present almost didn’t hear his last few words he had spoken them so quietly.  Next to him, he felt Virgil stiffen and attempt to stifle a sob.  He turned to him.  “I – I’m sorry, Virgil… but I’d… I’d reached rock bottom.  Apart from the physical injuries, I knew I was really ill, which I now know was the double pneumonia starting.  Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, and I think I finally succumbed and fell into a coma.”  He stopped and swallowed, then with a shaky hand took another few sips of water.

“I somehow was aware that he visited me, but I can’t remember what he said; I was burning up by then, but I remember opening my eyes and seeing him pointing a gun at my head, and I asked forgiveness from my family, and for them not to forget me.  He was going to shoot me, but I think he misunderstood my final word.  I uttered ‘please,’ but I wasn’t pleading for him to put me out of my misery, I was asking my family not to forget me.

“He did fire his weapon, I remember it making me jump, but he didn’t fire it at me.  He must have left then, and I don’t remember anything else after that point until I woke up here.”

He turned to his brother and threw his arms around him, and they sobbed in one another’s arms as Scott kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You – you have nothing to apologise for, Scotty.  I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner.  We let you down, I’m sorry!”

“It’s not your fault Virgil.  Please don’t blame yourself.”

Clarke cleared his throat.  “Captain Tracy, thank you for your testimony.  I have one final question for you.  How are you feeling now?”

Scott released his brother and turned in his chair to face the JAG officer.  “I’m healing slowly.  I – I admit I was shocked when I saw myself in a mirror, I – I didn’t recognise myself… and the scars…” his voice trailed off.

“And mentally?”

The pilot flinched violently.  “I’m fine.”

His father and Virgil also flinched violently at that response.  The standard Scott Tracy answer; a lie most of the time.  He could be bleeding out and he’d say he was fine so as not to worry them.

“Captain, we both know… as do the rest of your family, going by their reaction to your reply, that that isn’t the truth, is it?”

The expression in his eyes gave him away.  He’d been well and truly caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Lt Lowe, how have your sessions with Captain Tracy gone so far?”

“They haven’t, Major.  Captain Tracy has refused to talk about his experience.  This is the first time he has spoken… openly about it, which is a good thing, but…”

“But?” Clarke prompted.

“I know every case has to be assessed individually, but going from my experience with other recovered prisoners, I would say there will be feelings of self-loathing, shame, failure, doubt that he will recover…”  There was a long pause.  “There is even the chance he considers suicide so that he can be at peace.”

Virgil had expected a vehement denial to pass his brother’s lips, but instead he simply hung his head in shame and remained quiet.

“Scotty!” Virgil hissed.  “Tell them it’s not true!  You’d never leave us, not like that!  We love you, and you love us too much to contemplate doing something like that!”

The silence stretched on.  Jeff was looking horrified as he attempted to come to terms that the fact his eldest son was contemplating terminating his life so he could be at peace.  Even Henderson had sat up and paid attention.

“I think Captain Tracy’s silence answers the question from his brother,” Lowe said eventually.

“Is that question really relevant for this interview?” Jeff interjected.  “Surely, this is a medical discussion not a debriefing one.”

“Colonel, this must also be added into the equation.  Ex-prisoners will be subject to PTSD, bouts of depression.  This is a documented fact that must be taken into account at the war crimes trial,” Clarke said.  “However painful it is to hear, PTSD and suicides is high in those that have been subjected to conditions such as Captain Tracy and the other prisoners have suffered.”

“You’re not planning on putting my son in an institution, I hope?” Jeff came back with.

“Not necessarily,” Lowe said.  “But we will need to ensure his safety and the safety of those around him.”

“I want to go home!” Scott suddenly exploded.  “Please!  Just let me go home!”  He sagged against his brother, suddenly exhausted.  “I’m tired… and I want to go home…”

Virgil suddenly grabbed hold of him before he collapsed completely.  “Scotty!” he exclaimed as his brother’s eyes closed.

Lowe quickly brought the scanner he carried to bear and ran it over Scott’s prone form. “I’m not the medic here, but I believe he’s suffering from exhaustion.  It’s been a long day for him.  Let’s get him on his bed.”  He looked at Clarke.  “Are we done here, Major?”

“We are.  Debrief terminated at… 16:30.  Thank you everyone.”  Clarke turned to Jeff who was assisting Virgil in getting Scott onto his bed.  “Colonel, I’m sorry we’ve exhausted your son during this debrief.  He should not be bothered again… at least until the trial.  Thank you for your cooperation.”

The officers packed up their equipment, offered their best wishes and left quietly.  Henderson stepped to Scott’s bedside and took a few moments to look down at his unconscious form.

“I hope he’ll be all right, Jeff.  He’s an incredibly strong individual.”

“I think if I can get him home and surrounded by his family he’ll be okay eventually,” Jeff finally replied.

“I really do hope so, I can’t afford to lose men like him.  He’s an exceptional pilot and leader.  You should be so proud of him.”

Jeff took a sharp intake of breath.  He was proud of his son, but he still hadn’t told him that he was.

Henderson caught the emotion but said nothing.  “I’m sorry I had to see you again in these circumstances.  Look after him.”  They shook hands, then he turned to Virgil.  “You’re a good brother, Virgil.  Look after him too.”

“We all will, Colonel,” Virgil said firmly, as they also shook hands.

“I’m sure you will.  I’m sure you will.”

o0o0o0o

[stitcher001]

The Road to Recovery

Sorry this chapter is late. It was fighting back! Scott gets to see himself in a mirror for the first time and it's a shock. Then, to top it all, receives some bad news...

Warnings for this chapter: some swearing, emotional/mental upset.

Earlier chapters may be found on AO3 here.

Chapter 8 - Hiccup

It was the low whimper that woke Virgil.  Opening his eyes, he saw that the sun had almost set and realised he’d been asleep for a few hours.  His eldest brother was still enfolded in his arms, but he was restless; there was a frown on his face and his breathing hitched as he unconsciously shook his head and gave a low moan of denial.

“It’s okay, Scotty,” Virgil soothed.  “You’re safe, I promise.”  He began to hum the lullaby their mother used to sing to them when they were upset or in need of comfort, in the hope it would chase away whatever nightmare was developing in his eldest brother’s mind.

Scott gave a sharp intake of breath, then jerked awake, disorientated for a few seconds until the soft humming penetrated his consciousness.

“V – Virg?” he gasped out.

“I’m here, Scooter.  You’re safe, everything’s fine,” Virgil replied softly, soothingly as he carded his fingers through his brother’s hair.  “You’re perfectly safe, and I’m right here, by your side.”

“I – I thought… I thought I was back…”  His breathing was ragged and he was trembling.

“No, you’re in a US military hospital still, and I’m right by your side.”  He felt Scott  tighten the hold on his arm as if to convince himself it was all true.  “Do you believe me, now?”

“Ye – Yeah.  Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.  I’m not surprised the interview today has resulted in you almost having a nightmare.  It wasn’t unexpected and that’s why I’m not leaving your side.  I’m going to keep those nightmares away from you as much as I can.”

“Love you, bro.”

“And never doubt I love you… we all do, okay?  Together, working as a team we’ll get you through this, whatever it takes.”

Scott didn’t get a chance to reply as there was a knock on the door which then opened to admit one of the catering staff with dinner.  She smiled at the two men as she placed the tray on the mobile table and then left.

“I need the bathroom,” Scott said, embarrassed.

“Okay, I’ll help you get there and I’ll stand guard outside the door.  Will you be all right in there on your own?”

“I -  I don’t know.  But I – I have to start using it at some point, rather than rely on… you know.”

Virgil nodded and slowly disentangled himself from his brother before getting off the bed.  He turned to face him.  “What do you need me to do?” he asked matter-of-factly, all business like so as not to embarrass his brother further.

“Just help me get there.  I’m not very steady on my legs yet.”

“Sure.”  He held out his arms in readiness.

Scott swept the bedding back off himself, thankful that his pitifully thin legs were clad in pyjama bottoms, but he could tell by the way they didn’t fill them that he had lost a lot of muscle mass.  He took a deep breath and slowly sat up properly, having to use his hands to push himself into a sitting position, then attempted to move himself so his legs were dangling down over the side, but they didn’t seem to want to cooperate and he gave a half huff half sob in frustration.

“Hey, small steps, Scotty,” Virgil said encouragingly.  “You can’t expect to climb a mountain straight away.  Come on, it’s not a weakness to ask for a little help.  It’s a sign of strength.”

Scott took a deep breath, but wouldn’t look at his younger brother.  He just nodded his head and Virgil started a monologue that he was going to take hold of his legs and swing them round, then Scott was to place his hands on Virgil’s shoulders, whilst he placed his under Scott’s armpits to support him.

Within a minute, Scott was on his feet, clutching Virgil’s shoulders tightly feeling a little light headed.

“You okay?”

Scott took some deep breaths in an effort to regain his equilibrium, then nodded, but Virgil saw a lone tear meander its way down his face.

“It’s all right, Scotty,” he soothed.  “I know you’re feeling weak and useless, but it’s temporary.  Look how far you’ve come already.  Come on, let’s get that bladder of yours sorted.”

Scott half sobbed, half laughed at that remark and gave a tiny smile.  He had to lean heavily on Virgil to travel the short distance and by the time he reached the door, his legs were trembling with the effort.

Virgil stopped at the entrance, as if sensing his brother needed to gather some courage to go into the small, enclosed room, even though with the light on, it was bright and airy.  “Ready when you are, he said to him,” and he stood patiently waiting for Scott to gather his courage.

A number of deep breaths followed, then Scott straightened up a little.  “O – okay,” came the slightly nervous response.

“I’ll help you in, then I’ll come out and close the door, but not all the way, so you can see there’s a gap and you’re not trapped in there.  Will that suffice?”

“I – I think so.”

Virgil nodded and they slowly made their way in.  Fortunately, Scott was gazing at his feet, making sure he placed them squarely as he part walked, part shuffled forward, so he didn’t see the face Virgil pulled.  The mirror in the bathroom was uncovered.  Scott had yet to get a good look at himself in one and the younger man was afraid about how he’d take it.  But he couldn’t do anything about it now.  Any steps he made to try and cover it would draw even more attention to it.

Arriving at their destination, Virgil ensured Scott was balanced.  “Okay, I’m letting go of you now.  Can you manage from here?  If not, just say the word and I’ll come back in and help you.”

“This is so fucking embarrassing,” Scott mumbled.

“Hey bro, you haven’t got anything I haven’t already seen!”

“Oh that makes me feel a darn sight better,” came the slightly sarcastic reply and Virgil smiled good naturedly.  “Get out.”  It was said without anger or malice.  The younger man smiled again, nodded then turned around and left, pulling the door too, but not closed so Scott could take care of his ablutions in relative privacy.

It seemed to be going well until Virgil heard a thwump and a cry of pure despair.

“Scott!  Scotty are you okay in there?”

There was no answer.

“Virgil’s heart rate escalated.  “Scotty!  Answer me!  Scotty!”

Silence reigned apart from the muffled sound of some sobbing.

“Scotty, I’m coming in!”  Virgil cautiously opened the door and found Scott on the floor, in front of the wash basin, head buried in his hands, attempting to cry quietly and partly failing.  “Scotty!  What’s wrong?”  Virgil was at his side in an instant.  He forgot all about warning his brother he was coming and hung onto him tightly as he fought against him.  “It’s all right, I’m here, no one’s going to hurt you.  Tell me what’s happened?” he cooed as he listened to his brother gasping for breath as he tried to break free.  “It’s me, it’s Virgil…” he began humming the lullaby again.  It took a number of seconds for his baritone voice to penetrate, but Scott finally stopped struggling and just buried his head in Virgil’s shoulder and sobbed his heart out, breaking Virgil’s heart.  “I’ve got you, Scotty.  I’ve got you.  It’s going to be all right, I promise.”

He began to gently rock his brother as he continued to hum.  It took a few minutes, but gradually the sobbing stopped and Scott remained in Virgil’s arms, trembling slightly.

“I’ve got you,” Virgil repeated.  “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together, okay?”  He felt his brother slump heavily in his arms as if all the fight had gone out of him, so he shifted position slightly and carded a hand through his hair to carry on reassuring him that he was safe.

Scott’s eyes remained closed for a few minutes and his breathing gradually evened out.  For a brief moment, Virgil thought he had succumbed to sleep, but then he opened his eyes.  Tear filled blue orbs gazed up at him.

“Hi there, Scotty.”  There was pure unadulterated love in Virgil’s eyes as he returned the look.

Scott grabbed Virgil’s nearest bicep in a surprisingly firm grip.  “I – I’m s – sorry,” he muttered.

Virgil shook his head.  “I told you, you don’t have to keep apologising, Scotty.  There are going to be lots of ups and downs.  Now, are you ready to move?”

Scott shook his head.  “N – no…”

“Okay, we can stay here for a bit if that’s what you want.”  He desperately wanted to ask him what had happened to cause this reaction, but didn’t want to push him when he was obviously feeling so very fragile.

It was quiet for a few more minutes then, as Virgil had hoped, Scott provided him with the required information.

“I… I didn’t recognise my – myself in… in the mirror.  Do… do I really look… look that bad?”

“Oh, Scotty,”  Virgil’s voice was filled with pain for his elder sibling.  “Listen to me, please.  You may think you look awful at this precise moment, but let me tell you, you look fantastic compared to how you looked when I first saw you.  You’re improving every day; you have to believe that.”  He noted how Scott rested a hand against his abdomen.

“I’m… I’m scarred, Virgil.”

“I know, but they’ll fade in time.  None of them are too bad, and dad said something about one of his inventors and a special cream he’s made that’ll help reduce their appearance even further, so you’ll be able to show off those incredible abs again.  Besides… you know the girls love a man with scars.  It shows he’s brave and has lived.  Never be afraid or ashamed to let anyone see your scars, Scotty, especially your family.  Now, come on, let’s get you back to bed before your dinner gets cold.  We’ve got to get some weight on you so we can take you home.”

Virgil disentangled himself from his brother, stood up and leant down to assist Scott to his feet, before slowly guiding him back to bed, where he tucked him in, then pulled the mobile table over his lap so he could eat his dinner.

Scott spent the next five minutes pushing food around his plate, his mind too busy churning over what he currently looked like to eat.  He knew he had been injured and extremely ill; they had told him a couple of times that he should have died and he suffered bouts of still wishing he had, especially when he had first become cognisant in the hospital.  Then that Scarlet fellow had paid him a visit and hadn’t held back in the ensuing conversation.  It hadn’t been like a slap in the face, more like a right hook and Scott had taken it all in; but every now and again, the doubt raised its ugly head and seeing himself for the first time in the mirror had most definitely been a shock, as had taking a really good look at his body.  He wasn’t vain, but he’d always taken pride in his appearance and had worked hard to obtain a body that women (and some men) had found exceedingly attractive but seeing the lack of tone, of muscle, the bones almost poking through sallow skin had been too much and he had allowed himself to sink into the realms of feeling sorry for himself.

Virgil was being a rock; the voice of reason.  Supporting him through his depression and wild mood swings and that just made Scott feel even worse.  He was the eldest, he had protected his siblings practically all his life; soothed their hurts, chased away nightmares and now the roles were reversed and he felt incredibly guilty.  When he looked at his middle and immediately younger brothers, all he saw was their love, affection and support for him.  It was incredibly humbling that they thought that much of him.  But the wild mood swings meant on some days he was appreciative of it, and on others he just wished they’d go away, so he could end it all and he despaired of ever getting rid of that feeling and maybe also a little scared.

“That fork doesn’t seem to be heading for your mouth any time soon,” Virgil said, breaking into his thoughts.  “Come on bro, I need to see some food going in.  You do want to go home, don’t you?”

Scott looked at him and saw nothing but hopefulness in the young features.  “Yeah… yeah of course I do,” he finally replied.

“Then eat up; get that food down you.  No weight gain, no going home.”

Somehow, Scott managed to force about half of it down before deciding he’d had enough.  It was bland and almost tasteless, but his digestive system wasn’t ready for anything with some real flavour in it yet.

“That was a fair attempt,” Virgil said as he handed him his water.

Oh how Scott wanted a coffee, but too was currently off the menu.  He was supposed to be resting in between his exercises and physio, not bouncing off the walls… or ceiling!

“Now, how about you get some more rest?”

Virgil’s cheerfulness was beginning to grate on Scott’s nerves.  He really just wanted him to go, so decided the best way to achieve that was to at least try and feign sleep.

“Yes, I am feeling tired again,” Scott said quietly.  “You must be too.  Why don’t you go and get your head down.”

“I’ll go get some once I know you’re asleep.  Grandma and dad will probably be back shortly to take over.”

He didn’t want them back… he didn’t want anyone back.  He just wanted to be left alone so he could wallow in self-pity, loathe the way he looked and felt; drown in the negative feelings; but he knew what his father would say.  Tracys’ don’t wallow, they’re strong, they fight, buck your ideas up, Scott!  Don’t let the side down…  He actually wanted to scream and/or shout to release the bottled up emotions, but he’d spent too long keeping everything locked inside.  It needed to come out, but he didn’t want to let it for fear of being found wanting, of being a disappointment, of being weak.  He’d broken down partly in front of Scarlet for which he was exceedingly embarrassed and vowed never to do that again, not realising that it was that he desperately needed to do if he ever wanted to fully recovery.  It all had to come out; every single, sordid detail of how it all unfolded, what he suffered, but instead he buried it deep, so that it would never see daylight.

There was a couple of things he’d neglected to remember however… The War Crimes Trial that was currently being put together, and his USAF debrief, both of which were yet to come.

His father and grandmother arrived a little later, took one look at Virgil and ordered him back to the hotel to get some food and some sleep.  He went grudgingly.

“How are you feeling, son?” Jeff asked him as he slowly approached the bed and carefully took hold of his hand.

“Tired,” he replied.

“That’s understandable.  Get some rest, it will do you the power of good.”  He squeezed Scott’s hand gently, then let him go.

Scott closed his eyes and attempted to slow and deepen his breathing so his father would think he was asleep.  Several minutes passed, and he heard his father whisper to his mother.

“Looks like he’s sleeping.”

He heard some movement, then his grandmother’s voice.  “No, he’s not,” she said.

Unconsciously, Scott flinched slightly.  He’d forgotten his grandmother knew him inside out, unlike his father who had been absent more time than present and thus was not as familiar with his tells.

“Hey, kiddo,” Sally said softly.  “Do you want something to help you sleep?”

He tried to pretend he was asleep, but Sally wasn’t having any of it.

“I know you’re not asleep, so you can stop pretending.”  She stroked his hand with her thumb and he swore silently, then cracked open his eyes.  “There you are.  Do you want me to see if I can get you anything?”

He shook his head.  “I’ll be all right, grandma.”

“You sure now?”

“Yes.  I’m sure.”

“If you change your mind…”

“I won’t.”

There was a knock on the door, then it opened to admit a nurse.  She was carrying a tablet, and approached the bed, a slightly nervous smile on her face.

“Captain Tracy,” she began, addressing Scott.  “I’ve been asked to inform you that your commanding officer and the JAG team will be returning tomorrow for your debriefing.  They will be here at 10:00 am.”

She paused as she saw the panicked expression appear on Scott’s face, and his breathing hitched.

“This is unacceptable!” Jeff exploded and then froze as Scott hunched over on himself at the loud noise.  He took a deep breath to get his temper back under control and carried on in a harsh whisper.  “He’s not ready for this!  You can’t allow them to put him through this yet!  He’s refusing to talk about it to the therapist.”

“I’m sorry, I’m only delivering the message,” the nurse answered.

“Jeff,” Sally interrupted.  “Calm down, you’re not helping Scotty.”  She was rubbing circles on Scott’s back in an effort to stop him from spiralling into a full blown panic attack.

“Captain Tracy’s therapist will be present to help him through the debrief,” the nurse added.

            “Is anyone else permitted to be in attendance?” Jeff asked, tightly.

“Like whom?”

“Me.  I want to be present to support my son.”

“N – no!” Scott gasped out.  “Not you!”

Jeff turned and looked at him.  “Scott, you’ll need the support of your family for this.  Let me.”

“No… I don’t want… don’t want you to… to hear what… what happened.”

“Son, I already have a good idea from the JAG meeting about what it’s going to contain.  I can take whatever comes out.”

“I’ll let Colonel Henderson and Major Clarke know.  I’m sorry,” she added, then turned and left the room.

Jeff studied his son who was trembling and staring fixedly at a point lower down his bed.  “Son, it’ll be okay, trust me.”

Scott shook his head.  “You – you don’t understand… there’s stuff… I don’t want you to hear… I’m… I’m…”  He couldn’t complete the sentence.  How did he tell his father that he was scared he would be disappointed in him, in the way he had conducted himself.  He had never received the approval he craved; needed from his father.  What he had achieved in his young life so far just wasn’t enough for the great Jefferson Tracy.  If he heard what he might be forced to divulge, he would never hear it; would never be good enough to deserve it.

Jeff could see he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.  “Son, I promise you, there is nothing you could say that will shock me, I give you my word.”  He lay a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the violent flinch before Scott got himself back under control.

“May – maybe not, but… you’ll…”

“I’ll what?” Jeff asked.

Sally could see that Scott was desperately trying to maintain his control, but her son’s questioning was making him escalate again.  “Jeff, stop,” she ordered.

“Mom, I need to know what he is trying to say.”

“Leave it, Jefferson.  It’s something that Scotty is afraid of.”  She paused as Scott shot her a fearful glance and knew she was right.  “Scotty, how about if I support you?”

He shook his head.

“Son, you can’t face this debrief alone.” Jeff cut in with and noted with concern, that his eldest was starting to rock backwards and forwards.

“Jeff, I’m ordering you to stop, now,” Sally hissed quietly.  She gave him ‘the look’ and he kept quiet.  “Scotty, who would you like to be with you tomorrow?  You must have one of us with you, for support.”

Scott shook his head.  “I – I can’t… I can’t inflict…”

“Listen to me, Scotty.  Any of us will volunteer to be with you and support you.  I promise no one will pass judgement—” she paused as she saw him throw a glance at Jeff and the penny dropped.  “How about Virgil?  He was in the JAG interview along with Jeff.”

There was the slightest of nods.

“What?  No!  You’re both forgetting, this is a military debrief.  Civilians will not be allowed!” Jeff came back with.

“They either let Virgil attend, or it’s not happening,” Sally said firmly.  “Scott needs to be as comfortable as possible, and if he wants Virgil, then he will have Virgil with him.”  Sally folded her arms and glared at her son for a few seconds before returning her attention to her eldest grandson.  “Come on Scotty,” she said softly as she adjusted the bedding.  “It’s time for you to get some sleep.  I know it’s going to be a very difficult day tomorrow.  I’ll stay with you tonight, if you’ll let me; let’s see if we can keep those nightmares at bay, eh?”

Scott reluctantly allowed her to get him back under the bedding and even tuck him in lightly, before she kissed his forehead.

“I’ll be right here kiddo.  You’re safe, remember that.”  She sat down by his bedside.

“I’m staying too,” Jeff added quietly as he pulled a chair up and sat down next to his mother.

Sally leant sidewards and dimmed the lights and they settled down on their vigil.

The news of the debrief obviously upset Scott.  He woke up screaming, but not for his interrogators to stop, but begging his father.  Jeff jumped up, wondering what on earth Scott was begging for, but as Scott’s eyes flew open, tears flowing freely, he took one look at his father, and threw himself from the bed to huddle in a corner, his hands clutching his head as he tried to make himself as small as possible.

Jeff looked on horrified and then his heart shattered into a million pieces as Scott sobbed.

“P – please dad… p – pl -please… don’t…”

o0o0o0o

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The Road to Recovery

Virgil has a bit of a meltdown in this chapter; Sally reminisces, Virgil and Scott have the beginnings of a talk...

Earlier chapters may be found on AO3 here.

Warnings for t his chapter: Mental anguish, anger, angst, some swearing and of course... love. Enjoy!

Chapter  7 – The Truth of the Matter

Jeff forced Virgil to go and get some fresh air; take a walk; calm down and get something to eat before he returned to Scott’s room.  The young man wanted a punch bag to vent his anger on at what the officer from JAG had put his brother through, and what had been done to him in Bereznik.  What was worse, he knew it wasn’t over, because he still hadn’t had his debrief of the actual mission.  That was likely to set Scott’s recovery back even further.  All Virgil knew, was that if he ever met Mendelski in person, he would literally kill him!  Which was saying something, considering the gentle man abhorred violence, but seeing the state Scott was in after that interview and the injuries his brother had sustained whilst interned in the camp, he reckoned he could make an exception and rise to the occasion.

Virgil walked for a number of hours to try and relieve the tension, anger and rage, but it didn’t work.  He came back to the hospital, and sat on a bench on the green opposite, raked his fingers through his hair, then put his head in his hands.  He let the tears and the sobs come, hoping they would help lessen the raging torment of emotions flooding through him.

He had admired Scott his entire life; his honesty, his love, his support and his bravery.  Scott may think himself weak and useless at the moment, but in his brother’s eyes he had been so brave to endure that interview… or was it more like an interrogation?  He’d managed to hold it together right until that photo of Mendelski was shown to him, but even then, he’d still managed to answer the questions.

The thought of that man touching his brother intimately made him shudder violently, especially knowing Scott couldn’t do a thing to stop it, strung up like he was.  But it could have been so much worse; Mendelski could have raped him, and Virgil almost lost it again as the horrific vision flashed through his brain.

Oh God!  How he wanted to scream; let all his anger out… but he was in a public place, so he had to hold it in and it was then he wondered and marvelled at how his big brother usually kept his feelings tightly locked down.  Instead, he clasped his hands together and did something he rarely did.  Prayed.  He prayed to their mother and their grandfather, to help Scott; to give him the strength and resolve to get through this; to recover as much as possible; but it was going to be an uphill struggle.

Suddenly, he became aware of someone standing close.  He made a valiant effort to get his emotions under control and looked up into the very concerned face of his grandmother.  How she had managed to find him he didn’t know, but somehow she had.  He quickly wiped a hand across his eyes, but it was too late, she had seen.

Sally sat down beside him and squeezed the hand that was resting on his knee.  “You all right, kiddo?” she asked him quietly.

He shook his head.  “N – no,” he whispered back.

“That’s okay,” she replied.  “Jeff’s told me what went on with Scott.  That must have been… difficult to listen to.”

“Oh God, it was awful, grandma!  Major Clarke was very sympathetic and treated Scott with respect and… well it seemed like he was genuinely sorry to be interviewing him and asking him the questions he did, but… I – I didn’t know that about… about Mendelski… the assaults… the rape.  I know he didn’t do the latter to Scott, but I can’t get it out of my head, of Scott helpless and that man…”  He started sobbing and Sally put her arms around him and hugged him close.

“It’s all right, it didn’t happen, you have to remember that, but go ahead and get it out of your system, you’ll feel better, trust me.”

“I swear though… if I ever find that man, I’m gonna fucking kill him!”  The words were spoken with such venom; Sally was taken aback.  Never had she heard Virgil speak like that and it was then she realised how deeply affected he was as well.  Perhaps he too needed to speak to a therapist to get the anger and pain out.

She didn’t say anything, just continued to hold him until he had regained some semblance of control again, but it would be something to be addressed at a later time.

“Feeling a little better now?” she asked softly.

He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“I know you’re still angry and upset, but we mustn’t let Scotty see it.  It will distress him even more.  Now, when was the last time you ate something?”

“I’m not hungry,” Virgil immediately came back with.

“Listen to me, young man.  Scott wants to come home, and if he does, we all need to be on our top game, because it’s going to be rough for all of us, so you need to make sure you take care of yourself, or you’re not going to last the course.  It’s still very early days and we don’t know how quickly Scott’s going to recover.  It could take months, or even years and—”

“There’s a chance he’ll never recover from this.  God, I hope that isn’t the case but… but I’ll take whatever there is left of him, rather than not have him at all, grandma.”

“That’s my boy.  We’re a tight knit family, with a whole lot of love to share.  I’m convinced if we can continue to stick together, we can get Scott through this; we can all get through it and come out better the other side, but to do that, we all need to look after ourselves.  Scott would never forgive himself if any of us made ourselves ill worrying or fretting about him, you know that.  So come on, let’s get something to eat.”

She released him, stood up and held out a hand.  He studied it for a number of seconds, then gave a huge sigh, took it and stood up himself, towering over her.

“I swear you get taller every day!” she joked as she began to lead him back towards the hospital.

“But I’ll never be as tall as Scotty or John,” he came back with.

“No,” she conceded.  “Alan looks like he might, though!”  She looked sad for a few moments.

Virgil saw her pain and immediately asked her what was wrong.

She was silent for a number of seconds, as if remembering something.

“Talking about tall grandsons… I remember when Scotty was born and your mom and dad brought him home.  Grant was so excited to be a grandpa, he was Scotty’s permanent babysitter.  He used to carry him everywhere, your dad hardly got a look in.  Grant said Scott was going to be a tall one.  Even as a baby he was all long legs and arms.  Said he wouldn’t be surprised if he reached six four.  Jeff wouldn’t have that, so they had a bet.  Grant never got to collect his winnings.”  She sighed, lost for a moment in the memory, then pulled herself together and patted Virgil’s arm.  “You were his favourite though… you were Grant’s mini-me in almost every way.  When I look at you, I see him and it makes me feel like I haven’t lost him.  Same features, same colour hair and eyes, same build… if you hadn’t been born before he died, I’d have sworn you were him reincarnated.”

“Grandma… I’m sorry,” Virgil mumbled.

“Virgil, honey.  You have nothing to be sorry for.  I feel blessed to have you in my life, and don’t you ever doubt that; you’re like your grandpa in every way.  My Grant lives on in you and for that I will be forever grateful.”

Virgil couldn’t seem to find the right words to respond with, so instead, he squeezed her hand, leant over and placed a kiss on the top of her head.  “Love you grandma,” he finally managed to mumble.

They made their way to the cafeteria and although Virgil tried his best, he just picked at his food, his mind still whirling with the vision of his big brother being assaulted by that monster.  He just couldn’t get it out of his head and it was beginning to mess with his mind.

Sally reached out and took hold of one of his hands.  “Stop thinking about it,” she whispered as if she knew exactly what was going on in his head.

“I – I can’t!” Virgil came back with.  “He’s always been so strong and… and I just can’t get the vision of him being strung up like a piece of meat, naked, being tortured and that bastard…”  He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly on the floor.  “I need to be with him.”  He turned and almost ran from the cafeteria, leaving a worried Sally frowning after him.

Virgil didn’t slow his pace until he was standing outside Scott’s room, where he stopped, closed his eyes and practiced slow breathing to try and get himself back under control, because he knew, if Scott was awake and aware, he would pick up on his mood and question him about it and he knew he couldn’t bring the subject up again.  At least, not yet.  Not until they were both more ready.  He took one final deep breath, then knocked quietly and opened the door.

Scott was still sitting up in bed, but his gaze was vacant and Virgil’s heart fell through his boots.  Jeff turned his head, saw who it was and carefully got up from his chair at his eldest’s bedside and went over to his middle child, and pulled him back outside the room.

“He’s shutdown, hasn’t he?” Virgil whispered, feeling near to tears, and silently cursing the JAG officer.

Jeff sighed.  “Yes.  At least for the moment.  He just needs to sort through his emotions, then I think he will come back to us.  I have to believe that.”

“Take a break, dad.  I’ll sit with him.”

Jeff looked into his eyes and saw his son was exhausted.  “When was the last time you slept?” he asked gently.

“It doesn’t matter.  I’ll get some later… when you come back, but don’t rush, dad.  I’ll be all right, honestly.”

Jeff wavered in his decision for a few seconds, then reluctantly nodded, patted his son’s arm and walked off down the corridor.

Virgil watched him go, then turned and went back into Scott’s room.  His brother hadn’t moved from his position, so Virgil began a commentary; that he was approaching the bed, and taking hold of his hand, which he did.

“Hey, Scotty,” he said softly, allowing his thumb to gently stroke the back of his brother’s hand.  “I’m here for you bro, like you’ve been there for me—for all of us.  Please let me in.  I want to help you get better.  Please, Scotty.  I love you so much and I can’t bear to see you like this.”  He sniffed loudly as the tears threatened to fall again.  “I – I can’t live without you in my life… please.”  A big fat tear dripped off his face and onto the back of Scott’s hand, followed by another.

It took a few moments, but then Scott blinked and glanced down at his hand, seeing the wetness there and he unconsciously squeezed Virgil’s hand back.  Despite his desire to be gone from the world, his deeply ingrained love for his family and especially for his best friend won the battle.

“Don – don’t cry, Virg,” his whispered almost inaudibly.

“Scotty!” Virgil went to hug him, then froze and hurriedly added.  “I’m gonna hug you, real tight, Scotty!”  He somehow managed to restrain himself from throwing his arms around his big brother and moved very slowly.  Once Scott was enfolded in his arms he mumbled, “I – I thought I was gonna lose you, Scotty.”  He gave another sob as his brother’s arms returned the hug.

“I – I don’t know how this is gonna play out,” Scott murmured.  “I – I can’t seem to think straight.  One second I feel like… well like me, and the next I’m back… there… and it’s too much… and I wish I was… and I see… I see that bastard’s face… and feel his hands…” Scott shuddered as the memories resurfaced.  “And then… I hear… I hear them mocking me… as I’m lying in that cold, dark cell… whispering… telling me to let that bastard… and I try to let… let the darkness take me… but then… your voice… your voice keeps calling me back, Virgil… even though I tried to make it all stop.  I am so ashamed!  I… I even considered that… that bastard’s offer… only for a fraction of a second… but I’m ashamed I even thought it.  What – what kind of person am I?”

“One… one that was suffering incredible pain, Scotty.  I don’t blame you for wanting the pain to stop; I would never blame you for thinking about his offer but in the end, you didn’t take him up on it.  You were strong enough to resist him and I am so proud of you; for refusing him; for staying alive; for coming back to us, and now we’re gonna help you get better.”

“I want… I want to get better, Virg.  Really, I do… but… but I keep disappearing into this black hole; back into my nightmares and I’m scared… scared that I’m too broken… and can’t be fixed.  What if… what if I can’t be fixed, Virg?  What if that black hole consumes me?  I can’t… I can’t live like this!  I jump at every sound, cower at a raised voice… I can’t go into the bathroom because of the shower in there and what water means… I don’t wanna be like this, Virg.  I really don’t, but I don’t know… don’t know what to do… I’m failing… failing all of you… I’m sorry…”

Virgil’s heart splintered as the brother in his arms dissolved into gut wrenching sobs, but then he realised this was what Scott needed.  He needed to rage, and cry and scream and shout; get all those negative emotions out in the open air so he could start healing.  He had to talk about his experience rather than bottle it all up, which is what he usually did.  This was way to big to do that with, it all had to come out, every single ugly little detail, so that he could be rebuilt back to the man he was; strong, loving, caring, protective, fearless; a born leader.  Virgil would follow him into hell and back and that hell started here, in this room.

“Listen to me, Scott Tracy,” Virgil came back with, his voice shaking with emotion.  “I’m here, your family is here, and we’re going to make you better.  You say you want to get better, then let us help you.”  He tightened his hug even more.  “To start healing, you need to get all that blackness out of your heart; out of your mind… Scotty, you need to start talking about—”

“No!”

“Yes!  And I’ll be right by your side every step of the way, if you’ll let me, so you’re not alone.  Together we can beat this.  Whatever you say, will stay in this room, between you, me and the therapist, but you’ve got to get it out.  You’re not weak, you’re so very strong.  I don’t think you realise just how strong you are, even now, but sure, you’re scared as well.  I promise, no one will judge you, no one else will see what you perceive as weakness—which it isn’t.  Please Scotty, I’m begging you.”  Virgil kissed the top of his head.  “None of us want you to disappear into that black hole, and we’ll do everything in our power to stop it happening and… and I swear to you, I will follow you in there and drag you back out if you feel it’s swallowing you.”

Silence reigned for a number of seconds, then: “I – I’ll think about it.”

Virgil began to rock him gently.  “Thank you,” he whispered.  He went to straighten up and let go, but Scott hugged him tighter and refused to relinquish his hold on his bear of a brother.

“Stay?” he asked in a small voice.  “I don’t want to be alone, and… with you here… you… you might help keep the nightmares at bay.”

“I promise I won’t leave you… but may I join you on the bed, this position is pretty uncomfortable.”

“O – o – kay,” came the immediate reply.

Scott wouldn’t let go of him completely as his brother carefully got himself laid out next to him and maintained the hug all the while.

“There, that’s better; much more comfortable,” Virgil mumbled.

Scott lay with his head over Virgil’s heart so he could both hear and feel its strong, steady beat and gradually he relaxed.  Virgil began to hum softly.  Scott’s eyes gradually closed, his breathing deepened, and Virgil realised he had fallen asleep.  He sighed in relief and kissed the top of Scott’s head, closing his eyes for a few moments.  Those few moments stretched on… and on…

When Jeff returned with Sally, they opened the door and found the two men wrapped in one another’s arms, fast asleep.  He turned and smiled at his mother and instead of entering the room, closed the door and left the two alone to sleep peacefully.  Perhaps all was not lost after all.  Perhaps there was some light at the end of that very long tunnel.  Jeff prayed with everything he possessed that this was true and that he would get his Bluejay back at some point in the near future.

o0o0o

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The Road to Recovery

Chapter 6. Scott is making progress, but will the arrival of military personnel to interview him about his internment in Bereznik have a negative effect?????

Warnings for this chapter: some swearing, mental anguish, panic attack, mentions of torture (nothing explicit) Previous chapters may be found on AO3 here.

Chapter 6 – You Don’t Have To Carry This Weight Alone

Progress was slow.  The physical wounds healed, and the casts came off.  Now it was time to get Scott moving and for intense physical therapy, but it was an uphill struggle.  Even Sally was struggling to get Scott to cooperate.  He still didn’t like strangers touching him, which made the physio difficult as it required a hands on approach.

The doctors even tried to get him into the hydrotherapy pool, but he hyperventilated as soon as he smelt the chlorinated water and they had to return him to his hospital room.

Virgil did what he could to help.  The gentle man spent hours massaging Scott’s fingers and hands.  His brother actually had long slender, artistic hands which he rarely used for art.  Virgil spent a lot of time thinking about how those hands had soothed his brothers’ feelings and hurts as he gently, yet firmly worked on the now healed fingers.

The physiotherapist saw that Scott let his brother touch him and decided to teach and guide Virgil through what he needed to do.  That seemed to work.  With advanced warning, Scott allowed Virgil to carry out the treatment.  It was a small breakthrough, but Virgil saw the guilt and pain in his older brother’s eyes; his fear of the weakness he was showing and did his best to reassure him that it was all right, and that he was returning the care and love Scott had shown them all his life.

Jeff sighed heavily.  He honestly didn’t know if he was doing the right thing regarding his eldest.  The doctors told him he wasn’t going to be released from the hospital until he’d gained around 20 pounds in weight, so the onus was on Scott to put the weight on so he could in fact go home.  Of course, that had upset him.

In fact, Jeff couldn’t remember ever seeing him that upset in his entire life; not even after his mom and grandfather had been killed.  He had to admit that he hadn’t really been around at all after that nightmare; he hadn’t been there to witness any grief that Scott may have exhibited and he felt ashamed to admit that he didn’t know what his son had felt, suffered or been through during that time or the year that had followed.

It wasn’t much different now either.  Sure he’d seen the damage for himself; the broken bones, the abuse, medical notes that told a story of torture, starvation, and inadequate medical care.  Scott had arrived at the hospital woefully thin, with multiple injuries,  infected cuts, bruises on bruises and double pneumonia caused by suspected waterboarding and/or near drowning over an extended period of time.

If Scott did put the required weight on, would it be safe to take him home, or would he be a danger to both himself and his siblings?  He’d called in a therapist to treat his son, but they had told him that Scott was being tight-lipped about it all.  He just wouldn’t talk about his experience as a prisoner of war and until he did, he couldn’t start the mental healing, which was another reason the hospital did not want to release him to go home.  The therapist also warned against taking him home and told Jeff, Scott would be better off at a specialist institution, which of course, Jeff had balked at.

Scott also tried asking his grandmother, hoping he would get the answer he wanted from her.  “Grandma… I want to go home.  Please, can I go home, I don’t like it here.”

Sally’s heart wrenched.  He sounded exactly like that little 12 year old boy that had laid in a hospital bed after the avalanche.  She warned him that she was going to take hold of his hand.  “Oh Scotty, we’ll get you home as soon as we are able to.  You’re still recovering from your wounds and you’re still seriously underweight.  You’re not fit enough to fly, but as soon as you are, I promise we’ll take you home, okay kiddo?”

She could tell he was bitterly disappointed, as he nodded and turned his head away again.

“Hopefully it won’t be too much longer.  I’m going to touch your head now.”  She carefully and slowly ran her fingers through his hair.  “You need to rest, eat and get well.  If you can do that, then you can get out of here quicker.  Now, I need to speak to your dad, so you just take it easy.  I’m leaning over you Scotty, to kiss you.”  She had continued to tell him what she was going to do in advance, just in case of an adverse reaction and she leant over and placed a kiss on his temple.  “I’ll be back in a little while okay?  You get some sleep, it’s good for you.”

She let go of his hand and moved to study his notes.  He wasn’t sleeping well; suffered from nightmares; wasn’t eating as much as he should; wasn’t cooperating with regard to his physiotherapy.  Sally sighed and replaced the notes then indicated for Jeff to follow her outside.

Jeff waited until he had shut the door behind him before speaking.  “Mom?” he asked.

“He’s not doing as well as I expected.  How’s the therapy going?  Is he talking yet?”

Jeff shook his head.  “He’s not saying anything, ma.  I don’t… I don’t know what else to do… how to help him get better… I can’t bear to see… see him like this… I want… I want my Bluejay back.  Alan and Gordon are desperate to see him, but I can’t let them see him like this!  How do I get him back?”

Sally looked into her son’s eyes and realised that Scott wasn’t the only broken one.  Jeff loved all his sons without question, but Scott was his first born and he took after his father in so many ways and he expected him to take over Tracy Industries at some point in the future.

She sighed and pondered for a few moments.  “Perhaps he would be better at home, on the island.  I could come and live with you, oversee his treatment and recovery, if you’ll have me.  You don’t have to carry this weight alone, son.  Let me help; let his brothers help.  We’re Tracys, we help each other.”

“I was debating whether to take him back to the farm in Kansas… he’s more familiar with that location.”

“He knows about the island; he’s been there on a couple of occasions.  The weather would be more conducive to aiding with his recovery.”

“But what about his brothers?  I’m not so worried about John or Virgil, they’ve seen him, been with him; it’s Gordon and Allie.  Scott isn’t the same man anymore; he’ll be like a stranger to them.”

“That’s true, but perhaps he needs his brothers around him to find himself again.  If he won’t talk to the therapist, perhaps he’ll talk to one of his brothers.”

“Would it be fair to inflict what he’s been through on them?  It’s going to be tough to listen to if we do manage to get him to talk.”

“If we don’t get him to open up, we’ll lose him completely.”

Jeff rubbed his forehead with a hand and screwed his eyes shut in despair.  “I don’t… I don’t know what to do, mom.  And it’s completely alien to me.  I’m so scared I’m going to make the wrong decision with regard to his recovery… we’re talking about his life here.”

It was only the second time in his life that Sally had seen her son so lost and indecisive.  The first was after Lucy died.  There were two people here that needed ‘fixing’.  She sighed, thinking about the next steps.

“Jeff, is the infirmary on the island ready yet?”

“Almost.”

“How long before it’s fully up and running?”

“At a push I could have it ready in a week.  It would mean diverting Brains from his other work, but if it’s needed, he’ll do it.”

Sally nodded.  “Get it ready, then I will have a word with Scott’s doctors, tell them I will be in charge of his care and recovery, and inform them of the equipment I will have at my disposal.  That should satisfy their concerns.  We just need to get him fit enough to fly supersonic.”

For the first time since his son had been recovered from the camp, Jeff’s eyes held a glimmer of hope.

“But you need to get Scott eating more.  I don’t care how you do it, Jeff.  They won’t release him if he isn’t well enough to travel.  His lungs are practically clear but he needs to put some more weight on.”

“I’ll contact Brains now and tell him to stop work on everything else and prepare the infirmary.  I’ll get Gordon and Alan to help him as well.”

Sally nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll go get us some coffee and something to eat; you start working on that son of yours.”

“Yes, ma.”

They separated.  Jeff returned to Scott’s room.  “Hi son, just me returning,” he said putting on a cheerful voice, but as expected, he received no response.  Scott just wouldn’t look at him.  He walked to his bedside.  “Listen son, your grandma and I are working on a plan to get you out of here…”  Those words had the desired effect and Scott turned his head to look at his father.  “However, to enable this to happen, I need you to do a couple of things.”  He paused as Scott frowned at him.

“What… do you need me to do, dad?” he finally asked nervously.

“You need to start eating properly so you start gaining the weight you’re missing, and we need your lungs to clear fully so we can fly you home.  I’ve asked Brains to drop everything else he’s currently working on and complete the infirmary.  Major Sinclair won’t let you leave until they’re sure we have the means to look after you properly and help you recover.  So, it depends on how serious you are about getting out of here.  It all rests on you, Scotty.”

A look of uncertainty crossed his features.  The thought of something being his responsibility made him very uneasy.  He closed his eyes and tried to take some deep breaths, only to start coughing as his lungs protested.

Jeff laid a hand reassuringly on his arm, warning him he was doing so.  “Steady son, take it easy; breathe slowly.”

The nasal canula assisted in easing Scott’s breathing.  “I – I can go… go home?” he asked slightly breathlessly.

“As soon as you gain some weight.”  Jeff frowned as Scott’s breath hitched.  “Steady, Scotty.  The infirmary at home will be ready in about a week.  Let’s see how much we can improve your health by then… that’s if you’re really serious about getting out of here.”

Now that Scott had been presented with the chance of getting out, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to go.  What was wrong with him?  He couldn’t seem to make a decision to save his life.  On one hand he so wanted to see his brothers, but on the other, he didn’t want them to see him in his present state; he knew he wasn’t… right.  What would they think.  He was always the strong one, the one that had held them together through everything, but now… now he was broken and he honestly thought nothing could fix him.  He was useless, worthless.  He should have died in that hell hole.

He had no idea what he looked like either.  Sure, they’d cut his hair and shaved his beard off, but so far he hadn’t seen himself in a mirror.  Did he even still look like… him?

The four walls of his room were beginning to close in around him, despite there being a  nice large window for him to look out of, which was a hell of a lot more than he’d had in his previous location.  Desperately, he forced his mind down a different route before the memories overwhelmed him, but he felt the panic rising, the tears forming as he worked himself up into a panic attack, which wouldn’t do his damaged lungs any good.

“Scotty?  Steady there, relax… stay with me,” his father urged, placing a hand on his shoulder.  “Scotty?”

The alarms went off on the monitors as his heart rate shot up, his breaths shortened so he was hardly getting any air into his lungs; his eyes rolled back and he started convulsing.

“Scotty!”  Jeff didn’t even get a chance to hit the emergency button before Major Sinclair and a nurse rushed in and pushed him none too gently out of the way as they swarmed around his son.

An AED (anticonvulsant) was injected into the line in Scott’s hand and the convulsions slowly diminished and stopped and the alarms ceased.

Jeff let go of the breath he’d been holding and bowed his head in relief.

“He should be all right now,” the doctor said quietly, “and will probably sleep for a few hours.  The nurse will see to the IV shortly.”

“Thank you,” Jeff whispered quietly.

Sinclair lay a comforting hand on his arm.  “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but Captain Tracy hasn’t totally given up his fight for life.  I’ve read his entire file.  He should never have survived his internment.  The fact that he did and is still here shows that your son hasn’t given up totally despite displaying symptoms to the contrary.  We need to bring that out.”

“I’m hoping to have our infirmary up and running within a week.  If I provide you with a list of equipment we have at our disposal, would you consider releasing him to the care of his family?  I’m hoping that being at home with his brothers might help him.  What do you think?  He’s always been highly protective of them.  I’m hoping it might give him the incentive to get better.”

The doctor pondered for a few moments.  “If we can get rid of the final bit of fluid on his lungs and he improves weight-wise, even if only a few pounds by the time your infirmary is ready and, if you provide me with the list of equipment you have on hand, and I’m satisfied with it, I will consider releasing him.”

“My mother is a specialist trauma consultant if you need any more persuading and will be moving in with us to oversee his care.”

“Wait, are you saying your mother is Dr Sally Tracy?  I hadn’t made the connection.  I should have known.  If that is the case, and he manages to gain a few pounds, I will release him into your care.  But it’s up to Captain Tracy now to make an effort.”

Sally returned at that moment with coffees and sandwiches and frowned at the two men.  “What’s happened?” she asked.

“He had a panic attack which resulted in him having a seizure due to his recovering lungs and insufficient air getting to them,” Sinclair answered.

“What caused the attack?”

“I’m afraid I may have been the cause,” Jeff said shame faced.  “I told him that if he wanted to go home, he needed to start eating; that it was up to him.”  He sighed.  “I put the responsibility on him and he panicked.  But there was something else clearly on his mind, I could almost see him thinking.”

“He’s seen his siblings; I had to have them removed.”

“Yes, but he has another two younger brothers at home.  What’s on your mind?”

“What’s his relationship with them?”

“I see where you’re going with this,” Sally interrupted.  “They are all very close and they all look up to him.  In fact, he helped raise them when their mother died.”

“I believe you said the youngest is 17?”

“Yes.  He dotes on Scott.”

“Mmmm, I wonder…”

“What?” Jeff and Sally asked together.

“I assume Captain Tracy has always been fit and strong?”

“Why, yes but what—”

“He’s scared they will see him as weak and broken,” Sally suddenly broke in.  “Not their fearless, strong brother.  And Scott thinks he’s broken.”

Sinclair nodded.  “Bingo,” he said.

“They would never think that.  They know what happened to him; what he’s been through.  I didn’t give them all the details, but they know it was bad and they would understand.”

“Doesn’t matter.  He’s not thinking straight.  All Captain Tracy thinks is that he’s broken and perhaps can’t be fixed, so what use he is going to be to his family; his squadron?  Mr Tracy, you were in the Air Force, you must have an understanding of what he’s thinking?”

Jeff nodded.  “I think I do… when I crashed and was marooned on the island… of course conditions were nowhere near as bad as what Scott endured, but I can use my imagination, and I’ve seen his wounds,  He is a shadow of the man that joined up… he is… ashamed.”  Jeff turned and looked back at his eldest.  “My son is ashamed of how he looks… his weakness…”

Sally grasped his arm.  “Jeff, don’t go there.  We can only imagine what’s going on in his mind.  It’s no good trying to guess.  I will repeat what I said, and it applies equally to Scotty as well.  Neither you, or him have to carry this weight alone.  The family will all help.  Now, let’s just concentrate on getting him well enough to fly home, shall we?  And that starts with you having something to eat… no arguments!”

“Yes, mom.”  He looked over his mother’s head at the doctor, who worked very hard at not smiling.

“I’ll leave you now.  Captain Tracy should sleep for a couple of hours.  When he wakes, try and make him eat something.  Let’s see what we can do to improve his condition this next week.”  He excused himself and left them alone in Scott’s room.

Scott woke up almost three hours later and fortunately didn’t seem to remember what had happened.  He just felt incredibly tired.  Sally fed him a little and often and being the force of nature she was, he was too scared to do anything but obey her, and she rewarded him with praise when he did as she asked.

John was forced to return to NASA to complete his next rotation on the World Space Station.  He didn’t want to go and there were tears as he broke the news to Scott, but his big brother told him that he understood and that he should go.  Hopefully by the time he finished his next stint in space, Scott would be safely ensconced at home on the island.

John reluctantly nodded.  “I could resign, Scott.  If you need me, I’ll do that.”

Scott shook his head.  “No.  I would never ask you to sacrifice a career you love, John.  You go.  I’ll see you when you get back, okay?  Just make sure you look after yourself.”

“But you sacrificed so much for us.  Just say the word and I’ll resign.”

“It was my sacrifice to make, so you could have your dreams.  Go, John.  Make me proud.”

“God, I love you, Scotty, but the same goes for you, bro.  I expect to see a considerable change to your weight when I get back, or else.”

“Hey, stop with the mushy stuff, or I’ll think my brother has been replaced by an alien,” Scott replied, trying his best to make light of the situation, and he gave him a tentative smile.

“I can do mushy when I want to,” John retorted, grinning back at him.  He gave a large, reluctant sigh.  “Well, I guess I’d better get going,” he continued.

The eldest took a deep breath as if to steel himself, then nervously held out his arms.  “Give… give me a hug?” he asked.

John’s breath hitched, but he nodded and slowly moved into Scott’s arms and they hugged one another tightly.  “Thanks, Scotty,” John mumbled.  He knew that his big brother had had to summon every ounce of courage to do that.  “I’m so proud of you.”  He drew back slightly and kissed his forehead.  “Just do your best, okay?”

Scott nodded.  “I will,” he finally whispered, and then John was gone, leaving just Virgil in the room.

“You gonna be okay, Scotty?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“May… may I give you a hug, please?” Virgil asked quietly.

Big brother closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.  “Yeah, okay.  Slowly now, though.”

Virgil gave a genuine smile, approached slowly and described what he was doing as he had heard Sally do and finally, they were wrapped in one another’s arms, Virgil with his head buried in Scott’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry about hitting you that time,” Scott mumbled into his hair.

“It’s okay.  I… I panicked, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have hugged you like that.  You were disorientated and confused.”

“But I hurt you, Virg.  I’d never hurt you, you know that, right?”

Virgil drew back and gazed into his brother’s tearful blue eyes.  “I know you wouldn’t.  I love you, Scotty.”

“Love you too, bro.  So much.”

They hugged again, then drew back quite sharply as they heard muffled voices outside the door.  Neither of them could hear what was being said, but it sounded like their dad wasn’t very happy.  The two brothers frowned at one another.

“Do you want me to find out what’s going on?” Virgil asked.

Scott nodded, and Virgil released him and turned towards the door.  He didn’t get very far, when there was a brief knock on it and it opened to admit a major, with the JAG insignia on his uniform, followed by a lieutenant and an irate Jeff Tracy.

“Fuck!” Virgil muttered as he looked at the officer.  He turned his head to look at Scott, who had gone as white as a sheet.

The major went to approach Scott’s bedside, but Virgil blocked his way.  “Whoa, steady on there,” Virgil said firmly.  “Just wait a minute, okay.”

“I’m Major Clarke, with the Judge Advocates Group.  This is Lt Pearson.  We’re here to interview Captain Tracy with regards to his internment in Bereznik.”

“Don’t say that country’s name!” Virgil snapped as he heard Scott’s breath hitch sharply.  He carefully moved back to the bed and offered Scott his hand.  “Scotty,” he said softly.  “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

Scott grabbed his hand and locked eyes with him in an effort to keep himself grounded.  The mere mention of the name of the country was enough to trigger a reaction and Virgil could feel his brother trembling.

“It’s okay, Scotty.  You don’t need to speak to these people if you don’t want to… I won’t let them bother you.”  Virgil turned his head and fixed the Major with a glare, daring him to challenge what he had just said.  The gentle artist and engineer may have abhorred violence, but he was fit, worked out and more than capable of using force to keep those people away if he had to… and he was prepared to, to keep his brother safe and calm.

The Major straightened up, not sure how to take what had been said, but Jeff spoke up.

“Virgil,” he warned.

“No dad.  Scott’s not well enough for this.  I’m not letting them upset him, not when we’re so close to taking him home.”

“And you are?” Major Clarke asked.

“I’m Scott’s brother, Virgil.”  He felt his brother grip his hand tighter and squeezed it back, turning his head back to him and smiling slightly.  “I won’t let them hurt you, Scotty,” he added quietly.

“We have no intention of harming Captain Tracy.  We just need to show him some photographs to see if he recognises any of the faces, and to ask him some questions about his internment.”

“Interrogate him, more like,” Virgil snapped.  “You have no idea what my brother has been through!  He’s still recovering.  You can’t subject him to this yet!”

“It… it’s okay, Virg,” Scott finally replied, in a soft murmur.  “I have to… to answer their questions.  I’m still in the Air Force.”

“Scotty…”

“I… I can do it, but… will you stay with me?”

“Sure.  I’m not leaving your side.”  Virgil shifted so he was perched on the edge of Scott’s bed, hips touching.  There were a few moments silence before the younger man spoke again.  “Okay, you ready for this?”

“Not… not really, but it’s got to be done.”

Virgil kissed the top of his head.  “You’re my brave brother.  I’m so proud of you.”  He looked up at the two officers, then further back to his dad, who swallowed and nodded.

Surprisingly, the two officers were standing motionless and had not moved at all.

“We do this my way, or not at all,” Virgil stated.  “So, approach slowly and don’t crowd my brother.”

Clarke did as he was instructed and placed a briefcase down on the edge of the bed, before straightening up and saluting Scott.  “Captain Tracy, it’s an honour to meet you.  I’m sorry to have to intrude on your recovery, but we need you to take a look at some photos of… enemy officers and men we have captured and see if you recognise any of them.”

He opened the case and retrieved a tablet, which he activated and opened an app.  He went to move closer to Scott’s shoulder, when Virgil put out a hand and stopped him.

“You have to ask permission to approach,” the younger man told him.  “No sudden moves, no loud noises, you get me?”

“Virgil…” Jeff began.

“No, dad.  This is going to be hard enough as it is for Scott.  We need to make sure he’s as comfortable with this as he can be.”  Virgil was in full Smotherhen mode now, and no one was going to upset his big brother, not when he had made so much progress in his recovery.

“It’s all right, Colonel Tracy,” Clarke said.  “I understand the situation.  This isn’t our first interview with a recovered soldier.”  He turned his head briefly to nod at the Lieutenant, who moved to the small table in the room, sat down and pulled out her own tablet before indicating she was ready.

Clarke cleared his throat carefully.

“Captain Tracy, may I have your permission to approach you, so I can show you some photographs, please?”

There were a few seconds of silence.  Scott gripped Virgil’s hand tightly as if to obtain courage for it, then nodded as he spoke.  “You may approach.”  His voice wavered slightly and Virgil squeezed his hand back, encouraging him.

“Scotty, if it becomes too much, just say and I’ll make them stop,” Virgil added and his heart melted at the grateful look his big brother gave him.

“Captain,” Clarke continued as he slowly approached.  “We have done this with repatriated personnel from the other two camps, and now we are on the camp you were in.  We need to know if you recognise any of these men and if they treated you… harshly.  Will you be able to do that?”

Scott swallowed slowly.  He really, really didn’t want to ever again look at the faces of his captors, but if justice was to be served, he knew it was something he had to do.  He took a couple of breaths and finally nodded.

“Captain, please state for the record that you will examine the photographs.”

The pilot took another couple of deep breaths.  “I… I will examine the photographs,” he replied.

Clarke nodded.  “If you need to take a break at any time, we can do that.  We do not want to cause you undue distress, but these men are currently being held and we need ex-prisoners like yourself to identify those who have failed to follow agreed conventions and committed war crimes against prisoners of war.”

“I – I understand.”

Clarke nodded again and so the interview commenced.  The first five or six photos meant nothing to Scott, and he began to relax slightly, hoping he wouldn’t recognise any of them, but that all changed with the next photo.

The sharply inhaled breath and uneven breathing gave Clarke a clue that the Captain recognised this particular soldier.  “You recognise this man?”

Scott’s eyes were locked on the photo and he was unable to look away. He began gasping for breath.  “Y – y – yes,” he finally managed to say.

Clarke leant forward slightly.  “What did this man do to you?”

Scott swallowed and struggled to get the words out.  “He… he cut me… with… with a knife.”

“On more than one occasion”

“Y – yes.  I – I lost count.”

“Captain Tracy has identified subject three-dash-zero-zero-seven as inflicting cuts with a knife on numerous occasions of his confinement.”

The next two Scott couldn’t identify, and the tenth made him flinch violently and he was only able to utter a couple of words.  “Water – waterboarded me.”

It was the same for the next two, who assisted in the torture, tying him down and taking a turn.  He knew it wasn’t the same person each time because of the different voices.

Virgil moved to place an arm around Scott’s shoulders.  If he was finding it tough going, he couldn’t imagine what it was doing to his brother.

The photos continued, and the short descriptions continued; beat me with a stick, broke my ribs, broke my fingers, electrocuted me, whipped me, broke my leg, locked me in a small dark box, punched me, kicked me; strung me up.

Scott was shaking violently now, and Virgil was on the verge of tears, as he continued to give his brother a one-armed hug in an effort to keep him grounded.  Jeff’s face was frozen into an emotionless expression.

The shaky answer to the next photo surprised everyone.  “In – innocent,” Scott said.

“What?” Clarke asked.  “What do you mean, innocent?”

“He – he was – was kind.  Would put food in reach, laid me down gently after… after the torture.  He – he said he was sorry… that not all of them were bad men.  He never hurt me.”

“You’re certain about this?” Clarke queried.

“Yes.  I’m sure.”

Finally, they reached the end.  “I’ve just one more photo to show you, Captain.  Now… do you recognise this man?”

The screen changed.  For a split second, Scott’s eyes went wide, then sheer terror took over, he cried out, attempted to throw the tablet across the room, but Clarke managed to save it, so he curled himself into a ball, shaking violently.  Virgil was shocked that a mere photograph could have such a profound effect on his brother.

“Who is that?” he asked Clarke.

“Captain?” Clarke prompted.

“Why must he answer?” Jeff demanded, stepping forward, his son’s obvious distress cutting him to the core.

“We need independent verification that this man was in fact in charge of the camp Captain Tracy was at,” Clarke said.  He returned his attention to Scott.  “I’m sorry, Captain, but I must insist you answer.”  He at least did sound sorry about it.

“Give him a minute!” Virgil growled before giving his undivided attention to the quivering body on the bed.  He placed a hand gently on Scott’s shoulder and ignored the violent flinch.  Instead he began to hum.

Jeff’s breath hitched in his throat as he immediately recognised it.  A lullaby that Lucille used to sing to the children to get them to go to sleep after they suffered a nightmare.  He watched as Scott froze, then groped for Virgil’s hand, which the younger man offered willingly, still humming softly.

The JAG officers waited patiently for a number of minutes, then Clarke prompted Scott again.  “Captain?”

“Men… Mendelski,” Scott finally managed to blurt out before he started trembling again.

“I’m sorry, I have to ask you this, Captain.  I can see it’s extremely painful for you, but what did he do to you?”

Scott shook his head.  “N – no… please… no…”

“Captain, I have to know, I’m sorry.  Truly.”

They could all see the struggle going on, both physically and mentally as Scott tried to gather both the strength and courage to answer.

“It’s all right, son,” Jeff soothed.

More time passed, the Major pressed again for an answer and Scott lost it as he screamed back at him.

“HE STRUNG ME UP NAKED SO MY FEET COULD HARDLY TOUCH THE FLOOR AND ASSAULTED ME!”

Virgil’s mouth dropped open in total shock, then thinking things couldn’t get any worse, almost lost it too when Clarke asked another question.

“Did he penetrate you?”

“WHAT!!!!!” Virgil exploded, then apologised as Scott flinched violently once more.  “Sorry, Scott, sorry,” he soothed, but inside, he was seething.

Jeff stepped in at this point.  “Surely you’ve seen the medical records.  Major Sinclair stated my son had not been violated.  There was no medical evidence to suggest that occurred!”

“I need to hear it from Captain Tracy.  I’m sorry.  I take no pleasure in this, I assure you.”

Jeff approached the bed now and crouched down so his head was at the same level as his son’s.  “Scotty… I’m so sorry, son… are you able to answer the question?”

“Dad…” Virgil began, but Jeff looked up and silenced him.

“This is the final question, then it’s all over,” Jeff said.  He returned his attention to his eldest.  “Hey, Bluejay, you there?  It’s dad.  I’ve got you, son.  Don’t be afraid, I’m right here.”

Terrified blue eyes, fastened on his grey.  Jeff nodded encouragingly at him.</p>

<p>Again, a few minutes passed, then…  “N – no.  He… he wanted me to offer myself… so the torture would stop… but… but I didn’t.  Did – didn’t want to give him… the… the satisfaction.”

Virgil almost collapsed in relief at hearing Scott’s answer.  Now he understood Scott’s violent outburst when he had attacked him as he had tried to wake him from his nightmare. Perverted bastard!  Now it all made sense.

“Thank you for your time and your bravery, Captain Tracy,” Clarke said gently.  “I know this has been extremely difficult and painful for you, and I apologise.  But if we are to bring these men to justice, we must have the facts…  unfortunately, not many of you have been as helpful due to… their mental condition, so thank you once again.  I wish you a speedy recovery.”

Clarke withdrew, packed the tablet away, then he and the Lieutenant left a stunned Virgil behind, gaping at his father in total disbelief.

Jeff gave his middle son a brief glance before concentrating on his eldest again.  “It’s over, Scotty.  It’s done.  You’ve been very brave.  Now it’s time for you to rest, okay?”  He stood up and moved away to give him some space.

All Virgil wanted to do was envelope his brother in a cocoon and never let him out again because he just knew the night was going to be a rough one.

o0o0o0o

[stitcher001]

The Road to Recovery

As the drugs drain out of Scott's body, the nightmares begin... but will the arrival of an unexpected visitor help him at all?

Warnings for this chapter: Plenty of angst, some swearing, mental health issues, self loathing. You have been warned!

Previous chapters may be found on AO3 here.

Chapter 5 – You Don’t Have To Do This Alone

“Scotty,” Sally said softly as she approached the bed slowly.  “It’s so good to see you awake, kiddo.”

Jeff moved back out of the way to let her get near her grandson.  She approached him slowly and also carded her fingers through his hair before advising him that she was going to lean over and kiss his forehead if he was okay with that.

He nodded somewhat nervously and she continued to tell him what she was doing, as she leant over and kissed his forehead.

“Welcome back.”  She smiled warmly, softly, reassuringly at him and saw his bottom lip tremble as he fought to maintain control of his emotions and failed yet again.

Tears flowed once more as he gazed into her kind, hazel eyes filled with love and affection for him.

“Gran – Grandma,” he mumbled, tears still flowing.  “I – I’m sorry.”  It was whispered so quietly, she almost didn’t hear it.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything, Scotty.  All you need to do is concentrate on getting better, understand?”

He nodded.

Sally stared into his anxious blue eyes and for a few moments, she was reminded of the little boy who was her first grandson and the memory of him being able to wrap everyone round his little finger when he gave them the large, soulful expression.  Of course it was also assisted by his weapons of mass destruction, but they were currently hidden behind a shaggy unkempt beard that party disguised the awful gauntness in his face, but the hollows around his eye sockets clearly showed how ill he was.

“Are you in any pain?” she asked him softly.

“No,” he lied; his current pain was like a feeble ache in contrast to what he had suffered the last three months or so.

She raised an eyebrow at him and he swallowed nervously before confessing.

“It’s nothing, compared to….”  He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Now you listen to me, young man,” Sally started, going into ‘doctor’ mode.  “You’ve been through a hell of an ordeal and you need to rest in order to help you recover, and that means plenty of nice, relaxing sleep, so I’ll ask you again.  Are you in any pain?”

His eyes lowered for a few seconds, then lifted again to look at her.

“A little,” he finally confessed, “but please,  Grandma, I don’t want anything, I need to stay in control, you understand don’t you?  Please don’t take that away from me, please!  I need to stay awake… I’m… I’m scared to close my eyes and sleep… scared that all this isn’t… isn’t real and… and he’s drugged me and playing mind games… again…”

Jeff’s heart shattered into a million pieces.  What else had that bastard Mendelski done to his son?

Sally moved back to where his notes were kept, picked up the tablet and checked when he had last had some pain medication and what the dosage had been.

“I understand, Scotty, but you need to rest and that means being pain free.”  She returned to his side, went to place a comforting hand on his arm and then froze as he flinched.

“Sorry,” they both said together, which resulted in the barest of a smile from both of them.

“Don’t apologise, kiddo.  That was all my fault, I didn’t warn you.”

“But I shouldn’t be afraid to receive a hug or touch from my family!”  He was becoming agitated and upset at the thought.  They were such a tactile family but at the moment, he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone laying  finger on him, let alone giving him a hug unless they gave him plenty of warning of their intentions and even then he wasn’t sure he could take it.

“It’s going to take time, don’t worry about it; but I have every confidence in you, Scotty, you’re going to get through this and over it.”

“Do you really think so?  Because Grandma I…” He stopped, closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing in a tiny voice that reminded Sally so much of a twelve year old grandson after he had regained consciousness in a hospital far away after the avalanche that had killed his mother and grandfather, it brought tears to her eyes; “I… I think I’m broken and can’t be fixed.”

“Scotty, don’t,” she replied equally as quietly.  Behind her, she hadn’t seen Jeff flinch violently.  “Don’t say that.  You’ve not long come out of a coma, and I’m not going to lie to you, you have been seriously injured, but it’s temporary.  You will be well again.”  The final sentence was said with complete confidence.

“In body… maybe… but… but…” he was getting upset at the thought about his damaged mental state.

“Son, don’t think about it like that,” Jeff interjected, coming forward, but Sally raised a hand and stopped him.

“Scott, do you want to get better?”

He nodded, and tears rolled down his cheeks once more.

“Okay then.  I’m going to give you a hug now, are you going to be all right with that?” she asked him.

He was breathing hard as he attempted not to break down further, then winced as his ribs protested at the movement.  “I – I d – don’t know,” he whispered.

“Let’s give it a go, shall we?  I promise I’ll stop if it becomes too much, okay?”

His breathing was ragged, the heart monitor blipped in protest.

“Come on now, calm down.”  Sally glanced back at the monitor and watched as the rate began to slow down again and went green.  “That’s better.  Right, here I come, nice and slowly,” she said as she began a detailed narrative of what she was doing; that she was placing an arm around his left shoulder, another behind on his neck to draw him close.  At first he was rigid in her arms and then he gradually relaxed and leant into her drawing comfort from the offered hug.  “There,” she said after a few minutes, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“N – no Grandma.  It… it was nice.. it is nice,” he mumbled, somewhat embarrassed.  It had felt real enough and she smelt like… well like his grandma; she sounded like her; looked like her.  Perhaps it was all real after all.

“Then I shall write you a prescription for us to give you lots and lots of hugs until you get totally used to them again,”  She smiled down at him.  “Now, how about you get some more rest.  It will do you the world of good.”

“I – I’m scared to close my eyes,” he confessed in a whisper.  “I – I can’t get it out of my mind that this is some kind of drugged hallucination and that I’ll wake up and be back… back in that place.”

Sally turned her head and glanced at Jeff, and saw the brightness in his eyes at that confession.

“I don’t know how to convince you that this is all real and that you’re safe, Scotty.  But squeeze me tight, and tell me it doesn’t feel real.  Come on, hug me back.  I’m a tough old bird; I can take it.”

He did as he was told, and tightened his hold on her, mindful of his splintered fingers.

“See, I’m still here, kiddo.  Do you want me to pinch you and see if that makes any difference?”

“Yes, I think I’d like that.”

“Okay, where doesn’t it hurt?”

“Here isn’t too bad,” he said indicating his left lower arm.

“Okay, one pinch coming up, you’ve been warned.”

“Ooowww!” he exclaimed as she obliged and did as he asked.

“Convinced?”

“Yeah, I think so but… tell me something that only you and I know.”

Sally stared at him.  “Mmmm,” she said.  “Now what can I choose?  Oh, I know… how about the day when you were fourteen and I caught you in the hayloft trying to make out with Mandy… oh what was her last name… Mandy… Evans, that’s it.”

“What?” Jeff asked, engaging his mouth before attempting to put his brain in gear.  “You didn’t tell me about that, mom!”

“No, I didn’t.  Scott got the lecture from me, he didn’t need it from you as well,” Sally responded.

“Son, if I’d have known…” Jeff began

“Yeah, you’d have tanned my hide and given me a lecture about respecting women/girls,” Scott replied, as he managed to blush deeper.  “In my defence, it was her idea, and I guess my raging hormones just got the better of me.”

“Well, that’s all in the past now,” Sally said, a soft smile on her face.  “The last I heard, she was married with three kids.  The important thing is… do you now believe where you are?”

Scott frowned for a moment, then relaxed.  “Yes, I have to believe it now, though… it’s still hard to…” his voice trailed off as his breathing quickened and tears appeared in his eyes again.

“Son, it’s all over now, I promise you,” Jeff said, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to ground him and calm him down.

“Wh – what’s wrong with me?  I can’t… I can’t seem to control the way I’m feeling… it’s all too much…”

“You’re in deep shock, Scotty,” Sally replied.  “Your mind is trying to come to terms with the fact that you’re now safe.  You’ve been through a lot and it’s the brain’s way of trying to sort everything out.  You know, it would help if you spoke to someone, to help you get through it all.”

“NO!  I never want to think about it or talk about it again!  You can’t make me!”

“Steady, Scooter,” Jeff said squeezing his shoulder a little more firmly.  “Son, you have to understand, you’re going to have to go through some form of debriefing about your experience and your mission, but not until you’ve recovered a little more.  It’s standard procedure, you know that.”

Scott’s face scrunched up in mental agony at the thought.  “I – I can’t,” he gasped.  “I – I can’t.  Don’t make me!  Please don’t make me!”

“Jeff, that’s enough for now,” Sally said firmly.  “He’s only just come out of a coma.  He needs time to readjust and settle.”  She smiled at Scott.  “Don’t worry,” she said to him.  “No one’s coming to debrief you for a long while,” and was relieved when her grandson began to calm down again, ignoring the look that Jeff was giving her, because he knew that wouldn’t be the case.

There had been a number of arrests and Jeff knew the Judge Advocate General’s Office would be knocking on the door sooner, rather than later.  War crimes had been committed, and although the eventual trial would be held at The Hague, he knew that an officer from JAG would be carrying out their own investigation as well because US military personnel had been directly affected.

“There, that’s better.  Now, you try and get some sleep.  One of us will always be with you, Scooter, okay?  A familiar face will stay with you at all times.”

He nodded, too drained to make a verbal response.

She helped settle him down, and carded her fingers through his long, unruly mop of hair, watching as he slowly closed his eyes and began to relax, still enfolded in her arms.

When she was convinced he was asleep, she very gently disentangled herself, moved to the end of the bed and studied his notes again.

“I noticed earlier that Scotty hasn’t been on morphine,” she said to Jeff, frowning.  “He can have it; it only sends him a little doolally when there’s a specific combination of drugs.  I’ll speak to Major Sinclair about switching him over, if he’ll take it.  It’ll make him more comfortable and allow him to get some rest.”  She glanced at her grandson again and watched as sleep slowly began to claim him.

Although the sedatives were draining from Scott’s body, they were still affecting him and having received a tearful hug from his grandmother, Scott succumbed to a more natural sleep.  The quiet after the noise of the machine that had been breathing for him was switched off was almost deafening.

Scott’s breathing was still slightly rasping, but the fluid in his lungs had almost gone now and he was practically over his double pneumonia.

There was a slight frown on his face as he slept and Sally wondered if it was the pain, or something else.  Her eldest grandson had refused any further pain medication even though he had to be suffering quite a lot, especially after his recent surgery.

Sure that he was asleep, Jeff let John and Virgil in, motioning with a finger against his lips to be quiet, but the fact that the intubation tube had been removed was reassuring to them that there had been improvement in their brother’s health.

He still looked awful; there was no better way of describing it and it made Virgil’s heart ache.  He had brought a sketch book and some pencils with him, but the drawings he had made so far had been dark, morbid; the things of nightmares, but he kept them, because it was all part of the healing process of his own mind now that Scott had been rescued and appeared to be improving.

The one thing that Sally did do, was get rid of his beard.  She’d got the doctor to administer a sedative whilst he was asleep so that it could be done as the sight of a cutthroat razor would have probably sent him into a full blown panic attack.  Now, despite the thinness, he did at least look something like her eldest grandson again.  The dimples were so very much deeper due to the gauntness in his face, but they were there.

Both John and Virgil had been present when Scott had woken next, but he was still groggy and didn’t seem to register the fact that they were there.  His blue eyes seemed dull and lifeless, but Virgil put that down to the fact his brother was still feeling the effects of the drugs that had been in his system for over ten days.  It was rather unnerving to have him staring right through them as if they weren’t there, but they were optimistic that this would change in a short while.  At that precise moment though, he wouldn’t speak to them, wouldn’t look at them and it upset them deeply.

“He’s still adjusting,” Sally told a weeping Virgil outside Scott’s room.  “You have to give him time, he’s literally been through hell and it’s not something he’s going to shake off in a couple of days.”

“Will… will he ever recover?” Virgil asked, wiping the tears viciously from his eyes.  “I want Scotty back!  That man… that man in there isn’t Scotty!  He’s a total stranger!”

“Hopefully, with time,” Sally tried to reassure him.

“Hopefully?” Virgil questioned.  “You mean… you mean he might be like that forever?”

“Virgil, my darling, we have to face facts.  We are all hoping and praying that our Scott will return to us, but what he’s been through will have had life changing effects on him.  We can’t imagine what he’s been through, so it could take months, even years, for him to recover mentally, or…” her voice trailed off.

“Or he could never recover… that’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”

She nodded.  “There is that possibility, but I believe he will recover.  He’s a Tracy; that Irish stubbornness is ingrained in his genes.  It may take a while, but I have faith in him; we all have to have faith in him; give him our full support, our love; show him how much he means to all of us, and I think he will come back to us.  Maybe he won’t be exactly like the Scott we remember from before, but pretty close to it.”

Virgil chewed his lip and looked at his elder brother who was standing, leaning against the wall of the corridor, arms folded, looking very serious, and in that moment, he decided it was time to learn about mental illness and recovery, so he could help Scott recover.

That night, in the hotel suite, he started investigating and downloaded a Wellness Recovery Action Plan Workbook, which he read from cover to cover, to find out what it all entailed.  There was a collection of strategies, activities, and resources to help with both mental and physical recovery, such as relaxation techniques, coping mechanisms and enjoyable activities.

Also included was a daily maintenance plan with specific routines and habits to be followed on a daily basis; identifying triggers and early warning signs, a crisis plan, and a post crisis plan.

The workbook would need to be completed by Scott, where he wrote everything down in regard to the subjects above; what he enjoyed doing, his triggers, his safe places, people he wanted involved, even listing those he didn’t want involved and the reasons.  He also had to set goals for himself, whether they be physical or mental; like being able to run a mile again, to get back in a jet and fly; things to stretch him and enable him to grow.  It was a long list, but Scott had four brothers, his dad, his grandma and his sister and her dad to help.

As the days slowly passed, Scott began to come out of his drugged state, and that was when reality really hit him.  Hard.  Like an express train running at full speed.

His mind was locked on replaying those 13 weeks of hell.  Even just closing his eyes made the images flash before him, so he tried to stay awake, because when he slept the nightmares came, that had him screaming in imagined pain, moaning in denial; his limbs flailing as he attempted to get loose from his imagined chains and bindings.

The first time Virgil had stayed with him and the nightmares occurred resulted in the younger man suffering a black eye as he’d attempted to hug him, hoping that would soothe him.  Scott had fought and screamed to be free.

“Don’t!  DON’T TOUCH ME YOU PERVERTED BASTARD!” he had screamed, then he had flinched as if he was being struck, time and time again.

A doctor and a couple of male nurses had arrived and pinned the sick man down as he continued to scream at them.  Then he had suddenly woken up and immediately started hyperventilating.

Virgil stood in the corner, nursing his rapidly forming black eye, almost hyperventilating himself as he saw the terror in his big brother’s eyes and he tried and failed to break free.  When a nurse arrived with a sedative and attempted to inject him directly, the response was even worse as he begged and pleaded with her, his eyes wide with fear, not to inject him.

Jeff arrived at that point and saw his eldest son was petrified of the needle and tried to get her to leave, but she injected the sedative into the line instead.

“N – n – noooo… please… don’t… no drugs… please…” he’d cried as he attempted to knock the offending hypodermic out of her hand and failed.  “N – nooo,” he kept gasping, then his pitiful cries grew weaker as the sedative took effect and his eyes closed.

Virgil had almost rammed his fists into his mouth at this point; his distress for his big brother overwhelming him as Jeff hugged him and he fisted his hands into the back of his dad’s shirt, pulling it taut.

Jeff wasn’t best pleased with what the nurse had done.

“He could hurt himself and he was disturbing the other patients,” she said calmly as she left and Jeff vowed she wasn’t going to be allowed in the room again.

“I’m sorry we had to do that,” the duty doctor apologised.  “But he was in real danger of re-injuring himself.  I think, as soon as his leg is out of plaster, we should move him to a specialist psychiatric hospital.  They have the expertise to treat him.”

Jeff stood, gazing at his unconscious son, torn about what to do.

“If he doesn’t start talking to his counsellor, I don’t see what else we can do.  I’m sorry.”  He and the other nurses stayed another couple of minutes to ensure Scott was calm again and then left.

“No…” Virgil moaned.  “Not to a psychiatric hospital, dad, please.  Scott needs us.  I’ve been researching it all.  He needs friends and family, not total strangers.  He needs people who understand him; know his tells.  Please dad, let’s take him home, please!”

Jeff was actually thinking along the same lines, but could they cope?  They would need to literally watch him twenty-four seven to make sure he didn’t do anything to injure either himself or any of them.

“I’ll think about it, son,” he finally answered truthfully, knowing it would need a great deal of planning.

-o-o-o-

Scott was ‘different’ the following morning when he woke up.  He just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.  He wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t look at anyone.  He shut down completely and lived in his own private hell, unwilling to subject his family to what he was going through.

This upset the family even more.  They knew he needed to let everything go, so he could start to recover, but he just would not acknowledge them, even though he knew how much it upset them; especially Virgil, who had sobbed and begged him to talk to him; to anyone, so he could get better and come home.  He kept telling him there was a way out of the darkness if he was willing to try it, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Scott knew it was hurting his family badly and also that he had to stop it.  There was only one way that was going to happen, but he was so carefully monitored.  He wished he was dead.  Sure, his family would mourn, but they’d get over it eventually.  He was causing them so much pain, death would be a happy release and perhaps then, he too would be at peace.

His family watched as his health began to decline again.  They just didn’t know what to do.  Scott refused to eat, to talk, to do his exercises.  He continued to lie, zombie like in his bed, his mind filled with the horrors of his internment, silently begging for it to stop and his father despaired, especially when the youngest two kept asking how their big brother was doing and when they could see him.

Sally suggested it might be a good idea for Gordon and Alan to visit.  It could be that they could shock him into cooperating.  Scott had never liked upsetting his brothers, it might be just the trigger they needed, but Jeff was loathe to subject them to that, thinking it would be better for them to remember Scott as he used to be.

And so the days continued to pass.

It was Jeff’s turn to stay with his son, when he heard a soft knock on the door.  Scott was asleep again, so he called out softly for whomever it was to enter.

His eyebrows rose in surprise as a familiar figure came in, shutting the door quietly behind him.  “Captain Scarlet!”  Jeff stood up as the officer removed his cap and came forward, hand outstretched.

“Colonel Tracy, good to see you again, sir.  I hope you don’t mind; I was passing through the area and decided to make a slight detour to see how things were going.  I found out you were still here, so I assume Captain Tracy is recovering?”  He looked beyond Jeff to the young man laying quietly in the hospital bed.  There were various monitors, but the colour captain took in the fact that his breathing sounded so much better compared to how it had been when they had found him.

“It’s good to see you too.”  He sighed heavily.  “Scott was recovering slowly.  He gave us a couple of scares.  Stopped breathing, so had to be intubated, then he crashed…” Jeff took a deep breath.  Remembering it still made him shudder.  “He’s out of the coma now and breathing on his own, but having made a start at recovery, he’s deteriorating again and I really don’t know what to do.  It’s like he’s given up.”

Scarlet studied the sleeping man and decided he looked a thousand times better than he had when he last saw him.  He was now clean, and the bruises were almost gone; he still looked very emaciated, but now that the beard had been shaved off, he could see that he would be a handsome young man once he put the weight back on.

“The doctor is attempting to get him onto solid food, but it’s proving difficult.” Jeff sighed.  “Scott’s punishing himself for his perceived failure.  I keep telling him he hasn’t failed, that he’s not a disappointment but I might as well just be talking to myself because he’s not listening.”  He looked into Scarlet’s blue eyes; almost as blue as Scott’s.  “Captain, you were special ops, you’ve seen things that I haven’t… do you have any advice of how I can reach my son before he kills himself and destroys his brothers’ lives?”

Scarlet just about stopped himself from flinching.  That was a BIG ask.  “I think that would be more of a therapist’s expertise than mine, Colonel,” he replied carefully.

“Yes, but you’ve been in the field, you’ve been there.  I don’t know what else I can say to him to make him continue fighting to get well again.  May I… may I be frank with you?”

“Of course, sir.  Anything you wish to tell me will be in complete confidence.”

Jeff motioned him towards the chairs on the other side of the room and they went and sat down.  “It’s all right, he won’t wake up,” Jeff said seeing Scarlet glance towards the bed.  “They had to sedate him when Virgil tried to hug him and wake him from another nightmare.  He gave Virgil a black eye.  Scott won’t let any of us touch him now and we’re a tactile family.”  He sighed.  “I don’t know if it’s my fault… I must assume it is but you see… when the boys’ mother died, I… well I went off the rails, deserted my children and Scott had to step up.  We’d always encouraged him to take care of his younger brothers, but it went up exponentially after my wife died and he was left to look after them for almost a year… and… well look at him.  He can’t do anything for himself currently; he can’t look after his brothers… as far as he’s concerned he’s useless and a failure…”

“But his brothers are all adults now aren’t they?”

“Almost.  Alan turns 18 next March.”

Scarlet pondered for a few moments.  “Soooo… let me see if I have understood the situation correctly.  Scott is now currently totally reliant on his brothers and you, and he sees this as not being right because he’s always been there to take care of them and even you to some extent.  He believes he is failing in his duty.  He protects them and at the moment he can’t.  He can’t do anything for himself because of his injuries.”

“You have it in one.”

“I wonder if he would be happier speaking to a fellow military man who is a stranger.  Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you don’t know because they can’t judge you.  Other than that, I can put in a request for a chaplain to speak with him or even spend some time with him.  He is excellent at his job and I have found his counsel most beneficial.”

“That’s if he’ll even listen.  He’s hardly talking, hardly eating, it’s like…” Jeff swallowed as he attempted to keep an iron grip on his emotions.  “It’s like he’s trying to finish what his experience in that hellhole started and… commit suicide.  I can’t lose him Captain.  I just can’t.”

“Have you told him that?”

“No.”

“How about some reverse psychology?  If all else fails and he still won’t listen, send him on a guilt trip.  If he cares for his siblings as much as you say he does, that might shock him out of his stupor.  Perhaps mollycoddling him is the wrong way.  I have a little time.  If he wakes up before I have to leave, I could speak with him.  It can’t do any harm, can it?  You’re telling me he’s already on a downward spiral.”

“Captain, you are a ruthless man.”

“Thank you.  Now, why don’t you go and get some fresh air, and take any of your sons that are lurking, with you.  Come back in an hour, but don’t come in until I call.  I’ll stay here with him so he’s not alone.”

Jeff opened his mouth to protest, but the look Scarlet was giving him made him close it again.  He nodded and walked out.  On the threshold, he paused and looked back.  “I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed,” he said and closed the door.

Scarlet took a deep breath, got up from his seat and went and sat right by Scott’s bed.

Nothing happened for about 15 minutes, then Scarlet heard a change in his breathing and a whimper of pain.

“May I get you something?” Scarlet asked softly.

Scott’s eyes flew open, wide and fearful as he spotted the stranger sitting right by his bedside.  He didn’t recognise the uniform and his breathing hitched.

“It’s all right, Captain Tracy.  My name is Captain Scarlet and I’m with Spectrum.  Have you heard of us?”

Scott gave a nervous, shaky nod.

“I was in charge of the mission to recover all prisoners from your camp, and I guarded your father in his search for you.  I was passing in the general area and wanted to see how you were doing.  You’re looking a hell of a lot better compared to when I found you.”

Scott’s breathing evened out as he looked at the black haired, blue eyed man sitting by his side.  “You… you should have let me die there,” he mumbled in response.

“I’m afraid that wasn’t an option,” Scarlet replied.  “Your father moved hell and high water to accompany us.  He must have some good contacts, that’s all I can say.  Hey, would you like some water to drink?”

Scott shook his head and turned away.

“Scott—may I call you that?”

There was no response.

Time to apply the reverse psychology… here goes nothing. “I’m an only child myself and I’ve never had any siblings or relations close to my age, but seeing the love that your brothers have for you makes me feel jealous; that I’ve missed out on something.  How can you be so cruel to them?  Do you hate them that much?”

It had the desired effect, and Scott’s head turned to face him, his eyes blazing with anger.  “What the hell do you mean?  I LOVE my brothers, my family!”

“Well, you’ve sure got a funny way of showing it.  Your attitude has really upset them, and you’ve had your brother Virgil in tears.  I hope that piece of news pleases you.”

“You – you don’t understand!”

“Then explain it to me.  I’m really curious how an older brother who is loved by his family can reject them and cause them pain when he says he supposedly loves them.  Doesn’t sound like love to me.”

“Look at me, Captain!  LOOK AT ME!”

“I’m looking… so…?”

“I’m the eldest, I’m supposed to be the strong one, I’m the one who looks after the rest of my brothers!  I can’t even feed myself, or even go to the bathroom on my own!  I’m fucking useless!”

“You’ve been injured, it’s temporary, you’ll recover.  I can’t see what your problem is.”

“I can’t do my fucking job, Scarlet!”

“Only for a little while.  Tell me, who took care of your brothers when they got hurt?”

“I did, if it wasn’t too serious, then my Grandma helped.”

“I guess you used to change diapers, get them to school, tuck them up in bed, even feed them, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so who took care of you?  Who looked after you when you got sick, or you had an accident?”

“I took care of myself.”

“Really?  Every single time?”

“Well… no… but—”

“Did your siblings ever offer you comfort?  Give you a hug?  Bring you a sandwich?  Just be there?”

“Yes, but—”

“So what’s different now?  You’ve just been hurt really badly, but you’ll mend.”

“I’M BROKEN, Scarlet!  I GAVE UP!  I WANTED TO DIE!”

“Well you didn’t do a very good job at dying did you?  You should have been dead when we found you, but something in you kept on fighting to stay alive.  You stopped breathing, you did actually die, but look, you’re still here, so there must have been a part of you wanted to keep on living!

“And you’re not broken, you’re just damaged.  You can be fixed; it’s just up to you on how fixed you want to be and your family want to help.  Or are you so far up your own arse wallowing in self-pity that you don’t care that you’re destroying your family, causing them pain because you’re rejecting them?  Your condition is temporary, Scott.  You will recover, but you don’t have to do this alone!  Stop being a total dick, get your shit together and let your family help you, like you’ve helped them.  It’s not too much to ask, is it?”

Scott was physically shaking and Scarlet began to wonder if he’d pushed just that bit too hard as the younger man screamed at him.  “GET OUT, SCARLET!  GET THE FUCK OUT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!  DAMN YOU!  GET OUT! GET OUT!  GET OUT!”  Then he burst into tears.

Scarlet took his life in his hands, stood up and carefully hugged him.

He was rewarded with a moan of denial.  “No… I don’t deserve…”

“Yes you do,” Scarlet said softly.  “You have your whole life ahead of you, Scott.  Don’t throw it all away.  Your family love you, they understand you’ve had a horrible time, that you have issues leaning on them, like they’ve leant on you, but now they want to give something back to you.  Let them be there for you.  You don’t have to do this alone.  Don’t shut them out, you’re only hurting them by doing that.  Okay?”

Scarlet went to release him and straighten up, but Scott managed to throw his right arm around him.  “No… don’t go… don’t leave me…” he whispered.  “I – I don’t want to be alone anymore.  Please… help me…”

“Okay, okay, it’s all right.  May I call for your father?”  The Spectrum officer felt a head nod feebly against his chest.  “All right.”  He turned his head and called out.  “Mr Tracy!  Would you come in, please?”

The door opened slowly, and Jeff peered in.  Scarlet motioned him over and he did as he was asked, shocked to see that he was hugging his son, who was openly sobbing his heart out.

“Here you go, Scott.  Your father’s here.  I’m sure you’d prefer a hug from him rather than me.  Nothing beats a good hug from your dad.”

He didn’t completely let go of him until Jeff had his son in his arms, and then he stepped back and gave a huge sigh as the older man began to gently rock his son.

Jeff turned his head to look at him.  “Thank you, Scarlet,” he said softly.

The Captain nodded.

“Hey Scotty,” Jeff said to his son.  “How are you feeling?”

“I – I wa – wanna g – go home,” he sobbed in response.  “Pl – please t – take me h – home.”

“I promise you, I’ll take you home as soon as you’re fit enough, but you’re still very ill and extremely underweight.  The hospital won’t release you until your condition improves.”

“B – but I – I don’t like it here.  Pl – please dad… get me out of here… please!”

Jeff attempted to soothe his son.  “I give you my word; I will get you out of here as soon as I can.  In the meantime, you have a couple of people who are desperate to see you.  Can John and Virgil come in now?”

Scott frantically attempted to get control of his emotions and stop sobbing.  He couldn’t, but he nodded.

“I’ll send them in,” Scarlet said, seeing the nod.  He opened the door.  The two brothers jumped to their feet and looked anxiously at him.  “Scott wants to see you.”

They stepped forward eagerly.

“Slowly,” Scarlet told them.  “He’s had a bit of an epiphany, so take it easy, but I think he will start getting better now.”

“Thank you, Captain!” John and Virgil said in unison as they walked slowly into the room towards their father and brother.

Scarlet shut the door behind them and smiled to himself.  He was used to reading people, it was part of his job, but for a moment, he thought he’d got it wrong with Scott, however it turned out he hadn’t.  That was one battle he was glad he had won.  He had to break him to fix him.  It would take time, but Scarlet was convinced he’d make a recovery.  How much though, would depend on Captain Tracy.

o0o0o0o

[stitcher001]

The Road to Recovery

The end of chapter 3 had Scott flatlining. In this chapter, Virgil has a meltdown, Jeff makes a confession, and Scott finally regains consciousness.

No warnings for this chapter, just fluff and angst.

Earlier chapters may be found on AO3 here.

Chapter 4 – You Don’t Have to Apologise

No one had the chance to hit the emergency alarm before the door crashed open and two nurses and Major Sinclair rushed in.  “Get out of the way!” the doctor shouted as he and his staff reached the bed.

John grabbed Virgil again and dragged him back towards the door.

“N – n – noooo!” the middle brother moaned.  “Scotty!  NO!”  The normally calm, quiet peacekeeper brother had disappeared into one overcome with anguish and grief.  That was his best friend over there who had just crashed and he couldn’t imagine a life without him.  “Dad…”

“Get him out of here, so we can concentrate!” Sinclair shouted as he began manual CPR whilst one of the nurses grabbed the defibrillator.

Jeff helped John drag the protesting Virgil through the door as he continued to struggle.  “No!  Let me stay!  Let me stay!  PLEASE!”

“VIRGIL!” Jeff shouted at his son.  “Get a grip!  You’re not doing Scott any good behaving like this!”  He shook him, then hugged him tightly.  “It’ll be okay son, you’ll see… Scotty’s a fighter, he won’t give up.”  And he silently prayed that was true, because his eldest had suffered so much already.  He glanced back at Sinclair and issued the plea.  “Save him, Major, please.”  The door then closed in his face.

Jeff could feel how tightly Virgil was fisting his hands into the back of his shirt as the young man started to fall apart and wept into his shoulder, moaning Scott’s name over and over and pleading to anyone who would listen to save his brother.

In Scott’s room, the timer was started, his oxygen had been disconnected and the defibrillator fired.  The Captain’s body went rigid as the shock was applied, then relaxed.  Sinclair studied the monitors.  He was still flatlining. They tried again, still nothing; so they increased the charge and tried again.

“Dammit Captain!  Come on!  Don’t give up on us now!  Increase to 220 Joules.”  He administered a shot of adrenalin straight into the heart.

“220 joules, yes sir.  Ready.  Stand clear.”

“Clear,” Sinclair said and the shock was administered.

The three medical staff all looked at the monitors.  Nothing.

“Again!”  CPR was carried out whilst the defibrillator recharged.  “Clear!  Shocking!”

Scott’s body convulsed as the current flowed.

Nothing.  CPR was continued as the defibrillator recharged yet again and increased to 250 Joules.

“Stand clear… shocking.”

They paused to see if it had worked this time.  There was still no sign of life.

“Time?” Sinclair asked.

“Four minutes, 13 seconds,” one of the nurses responded.

“Administer another 1 mg of adrenaline and we’ll try again,” Sinclair snapped.  Come on, Captain!  You’ve gotten this far, please don’t give up on us now! he thought desperately.   Your father is expecting me to save you… don’t let me down!

The shot was administered, and they tried again.  Nothing.

“Let’s give it one more try.  Increase to 270 Joules.”

“270 Joules.  Ready.  Stand clear!”

Again, Scott’s body went rigid, then relaxed.  Everyone fixed their gaze on the monitor and waited.  Nothing.  Sinclair slumped and heaved a heavy sigh.  By rights he could continue to fight for his life for a further 20 minutes, but part of him was wondering if it was fair to put this young man through any more?  He decided to stop and offered a silent apology to the lifeless young man on the bed.  What a waste! Only 23 and his life is over… criminal…  I’m sorry, Captain.  Be at peace now.  He pulled himself together; but inside was dreading having to deliver the bad news to the family.

“I’m calling it,” he said.  “Time of dea—”  The monitor suddenly blipped, rather erratically then settled into a tachycardic rhythm, but a rhythm, nonetheless.  Sinclair almost collapsed in relief.  He’d seen too much death this day.  “Good man,” the major whispered to his patient as he squeezed his arm gently.  “Don’t do that to us again, you hear me?”

One of the nurses reconnected the oxygen supply and the other handed the scanner to the doctor, who ran it slowly over Scott’s body.  He wanted to check to make sure the busted rib laying tightly against the left lung hadn’t moved after the CPR.  If it had, they were in serious trouble.  But for once, luck was on their side and it appeared not to have moved. Thank goodness for small mercies! Sinclair thought.

He continued to study the monitors for a couple of minutes, just to make sure Scott was stable again, then nodded and gave a sharp sigh of relief and tentatively smiled at his two nurses.

“Guess I’d better give the family the good news,” the doctor said as he gave the monitors one final check, then moved to the door.  He opened it and was faced by three very anxious faces staring hard at him.

Almost ten minutes had passed and with every passing second, Jeff and his sons grew more worried and concerned.

“Captain Tracy is alive.  We managed to get his heart going again.”

Three bodies slumped in relief.  John and Virgil clutched one another for support, the latter sobbing with relief whilst his older brother rubbed his hand in gentle circles on his back, trying to soothe him.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” Sinclair went on.  “But it looks like he hasn’t given up the fight just yet.  We still need to get him through the next 60 hours or so, then I’ll be happier.”

“H – how long was he down for?” Jeff managed to ask.

“Seven minutes twenty-nine seconds,” Sinclair answered, watching as Jeff winced.

“What about that rib?”

“I took another detailed scan and it doesn’t appear to have moved.  The scanner hasn’t detected any bleeding in that area either.  We will monitor his stats closely as I would like to operate as soon as possible, but it looks like it won’t be for another couple of days  He’s still hypothermic, but his temperature is rising slowly.  We’ll review his situation on a half-daily basis.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Jeff said with feeling.  “May we see him?”

“You may, but I request you keep noise to a minimum.  By all means talk to him, quietly, but no emotional outbursts please, or I will have you removed.  I know his condition will have upset you—even frightened you—but it’s imperative you remain calm.  Do I make myself clear?”

For a moment, all three members of the family bristled, but then came to their senses and they nodded.  There were still debates going on about whether patients in comas could actually hear what was going on around them and they realised their reaction to Scott’s condition may have in fact been a contributing factor to his crashing.

“Good.  Now we understand one other.  I’ll be nearby, just in case.”  The doctor nodded at them and walked down the corridor.

Jeff turned to his two sons.  “Boys, go and get something to eat and drink.  I’ll sit with Scott, then you can take over and I’ll go get something to eat, and update your grandmother.”

They wanted to protest; needing to see for themselves that Scott was alive, but one look from their father silenced them and they grudgingly went in search of the cafeteria.  Jeff watched them go, then quietly let himself back into Scott’s room.  For a moment, he stood, leaning back against the now closed door and studied his eldest, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as the sudden rush of adrenaline began to ebb; then he realised the significance of what had just happened and felt the bile rising.

He made a rather undignified dash to the ensuite bathroom and threw up into the toilet bowl.  He continued to heave until there was nothing left and he found himself shaking in what could only be shock, at the events that had just happened.

It took a few minutes for him to stop shaking before he could get back to his feet and move to the sink where he rinsed his mouth and splashed some cold water over his face.  He grabbed a nearby towel, dried himself off, took a number of deep breaths, pulled himself together and moved to Scott’s bedside.

He carded a hand gently through his son’s hair.  “Scotty, you scared me, you scared all of us, son.  Come on now, you can do this.  You’ve survived this far, you can keep going, just a little longer.  Will you do that for me—for us?  We love you so much.”

He leant over and kissed his forehead, before straightening up again and taking a deep breath.  He needed to grow a pair and confess to his eldest, knowing his son deserved to know the truth.  But Scott was unconscious; he wouldn’t hear the words his father was about to say to him and understand…

“I need to apologise to you, son,” Jeff began as he began to card his fingers through his son’s hair again.  “All your life I’ve been pushing you; harder than the rest.  I’ve watched you grow into the fine man you are; I’ve watched as you rose to every challenge I set you and you succeeded time and time again… and I saw as you continued to push yourself harder and harder as you waited to hear the words from me that I never gave you.  Instead I continued to drive you onwards and upwards.

“I saw the hurt in your eyes, the flash of disappointment cross your face when I still didn’t say what you desperately needed me to say, and for that, I will never forgive myself… so I’m saying it now, Scotty.  I am so damn proud of you, son.  So proud I’m fit to burst.  I don’t know why I couldn’t say that before; I have no excuse except to say that I need to make sure you’re strong; stronger than I am and this was the only way I could think of to make you so.  I… I need you to forgive me, Scotty.  You are my heir, I needed to make sure you could take care of yourself and your brothers and you’ve proved that you can do that time and time again, and yet, I still didn’t say what you needed to hear—were desperate to hear.  So I’m going to say it again.  I couldn’t be more proud of you if I tried.  You’re a far better man than I could ever be, and I am honoured to have a son like you.  I love you but I haven’t said that enough over the years, so I’m begging you… hang on and come back to us, son.  Your brothers need you and… and hell… I need you too, boy.  Please don’t leave us… please…”

Jeff had no idea if Scott could actually hear his heartfelt words or not, but he knew they had to be said.  It was easier saying them when they were alone like this; where no one else could hear him; where even perhaps Scott hadn’t heard them because if he spoke them when Scott was conscious, Jeff would feel weak.

He savagely wiped the tears from his eyes, then pulled the chair close and sat down to keep a vigil until John and Virgil returned, whilst Scott continued to lay unmoving and perhaps totally oblivious to his father’s confession.

In the cafeteria, John had to carry the tray as Virgil was still shaking with shock.  They found a table in a corner and sat down.  John carefully unloaded the tray and leant it against a table leg.

“Come on Virg, eat your sandwich,” he encouraged, but his brother shook his head.

“It’ll choke me,” he mumbled and looked at his brother, his eyes haunted.  “John… did you see him… did you see how he looked?  That was our big brother… he looked like… like death—was dead for over seven minutes!  He used to be so strong, so fit… do you think he’ll…”  He stopped, trying to get a hold on his emotions and failed miserably.

“Virgil, look at me!” John ordered.  “You’re starting to hyperventilate, come on, breathe with me.”  He took a firm grasp of Virgil’s hands.  “Come on, brother, concentrate; in two three four… hold… hold… out two three four.  You can do it… that’s it… come on…”

It took him several minutes, but eventually he got his breathing under control, which was just as well, because it looked as if a doctor was approaching their table.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.  “Can I help?”

“That’s very kind of you, but I think we’ve got it under control now,” John responded, still holding Virgil’s hands tightly.

The doctor moved so she was standing by John’s side and studying Virgil.  “Sir, would you look at me, please?”

Virgil was still taking deep breaths and holding them for a number of seconds before letting them out, but he did as he was asked.

“Hey there… okay, you’re looking better now.  I thought you were going to pass out earlier.”  She smiled gently at him.  “How are you feeling?”

“O – okay,” Virgil said finally.

“Good.  Your friend here did a good job.”

“I’m his brother,” John replied quietly.

“Oh!”  She glanced at the two of them.  For a few seconds she thought they didn’t look much like brothers; the blond one was tall, thin, his features rather chiselled, whereas the brown-haired one was well-muscled and broad, but she could actually see a resemblance around the eyes, despite the colour difference.

“Sorry about the um… panic attack,” Virgil said blushing with embarrassment.  “We… we’ve er… just seen our brother and it was… a shock.”  A flash of pain crossed his features.

The  doctor didn’t press for details; she would wait and see if any were volunteered.

“Doctor… what’s the survival rate for recovered PoWs admitted to the ICU?” he finally asked.

A look of profound sympathy appeared briefly on her features before she became all professional again.  “Well, it depends on a lot of factors… like how long they were held for, what his condition was in when recovered… may I ask, did he come in with the latest batch of rescued PoWs?”

Virgil nodded.  “His doctor has said if he can get through the next 48 – 72 hours he might stand a chance… He… he was unrecognisable!  I didn’t even believe it was him, but dad assured us it was.”

Virgil obviously felt the need to get his feelings off his chest.  The doctor indicated if she could sit and Virgil nodded.

“He’s in a serious condition then?”

“He just crashed,” Virgil whispered.  “It was awful.”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” the doctor said quietly.

“How can humans do that to another human?” Virgil went on, ignoring her.  “Our eldest brother is the kindest man; he’d help anyone, and they beat him, tortured him, starved him to within an inch of his life and he’s not out of the woods yet.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.  But if the doctor’s managed to revive him, then he has a chance.  He sounds like he’s a fighter, and we doctors are very good at our job… I mean… sorry, that sounds like I’m boasting, but we’re a good bunch here.  We’ll fight to make him well.”  She studied his features again.  “Are you going to be all right now?”

“Yes, thank you.  Thank you for your kindness.”

“That’s one of the things we’re here for. Your brother is in very good hands; I promise you that.”  She stood up, gave them both a sincere smile and left.

“Are you all right?” John asked noting how grey his younger brother still looked.

“No… but I’ll get there.  I have to, for Scotty’s sake.”

“Then eat  your sandwich.  We don’t want you collapsing from hunger, and you won’t have the strength to help if you pass out.”

They arrived back at Scott’s room 40 minutes later.  Jeff checked on his two sons to make sure they were okay and left them with strict instructions whilst he grabbed some food, then went outside again to call his mother.

“Jeff?” Sally Tracy asked.  “I was becoming worried.  Tell me.”

“Hi mom, where are Gordon and Alan?”

“In the lounge.  They’re not near me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Good.  I don’t want them to hear this.”

Sally’s heart missed a beat at hearing those words.  “W – wait a minute, let me go to your office…”  There were a couple of minutes silence, then she spoke again.  “Okay, I’m in there and the door is closed.  What can you tell me?”  She heard her son take a deep jagged breath.  “Jeff?

“It – it’s bad, mom.  Scotty’s almost unrecognisable… what those bastards have done to him…” His breath hitched as he fought to stay in control of his emotions.

“Jefferson, calm down, stay with me.” Sally was all trauma doctor now.  “Can you tell me his injuries?”

“Dehydrated, emaciated; his body is a mass of cuts, bruises, burns.  Fractured ribs, broken femur, broken fingers; hypothermia, a fever, double pneumonia…. Mom… they waterboarded him on numerous occasions, he’s fully intubated because he can’t breathe on his own… and… and about an hour ago, he flatlined and I thought… oh God, I thought we’d lost him, but the doctor managed to bring him back… he needs surgery, there’s a broken rib laying right against his lung, but he’s not strong enough.  He’s got IVs, a gastrostomy tube, loads of monitoring equipment on him.

“When we found him in that hellhole, I had to examine him to confirm it was him!  I couldn’t even recognise my own son, mom!  Can you believe that?  That’s how bad a state he was in!  He’s always been so strong, to see him like—”

“Jeff! Stop it!  Calm down.  You won’t do him or your other sons, or yourself any good if you lose control.  You need to be strong for them, understand?  You need to be the calm one to keep them grounded.  I’m not going to lie to you, Scotty’s going to be a mess when he finally regains consciousness.  He will need careful handling.  Has he been unconscious throughout?”

“Yes.  He was unconscious when we found him, and now he’s in an induced coma because of the rib.  They don’t want him coughing, which the fluid on his lungs would cause.”

“All right.  I’m going to leave Kyrano in charge of the boys and Kayo, pack a bag and get to you as soon as possible.  Sounds like you all need some moral support and I think my experience as a trauma doctor will be useful.  See you as soon as I can.  Be strong, son.  Scotty’s alive, that’s the important thing.”

-o-o-o-

Scott survived the night which brought him a step closer to recovery.  His father and brothers refused to leave and stayed in vigil with him.  A specialist had paid a visit and drawn some fluid off his lungs for analysis and another had drawn some bloods.  This enabled them to identify the infections and target them with specific treatments.

John had gone and acquired a couple of extra chairs and pilfered some blankets from the small cupboard in the room and the three men had tried to make themselves as comfortable as possible, as none of them were leaving that room.

And that was how Sally found them when she arrived a number of hours later.  All fast asleep from exhaustion; various monitoring machines beeping and flashing away in the background.  She shook her head and entered the room, shutting the door quietly.  Moving to the foot of Scott’s bed, she spent a long time just looking at him and her heart wept at the state of him.  Her son had not been exaggerating when he described the condition Scott was in.

Just looking at him, she knew his physical recovery was going to take months.  Nothing had been spoken about the mental side, but she suspected that was going to be bad as well.  Her Scotty was strong both physically and mentally; a man who possessed a kind and generous soul.  This experience was bound to have affected him deeply but she hoped that it hadn’t damaged him beyond repair.  That would break all of their hearts.

Sally turned her attention to his notes, and read them very carefully, nodding in agreement with the actions that had been taken so far, then switched her attention to the monitors.  None of the readings were unexpected.  She returned the tablet to the holder and carefully moved to the opposite side of the bed to where her son was sitting, looking most uncomfortable with his head on his arms on the side of the bed, a hand clutching Scott’s bicep.

Gently, she stroked Scott’s cheek, leant over and kissed his forehead like his father and brothers had done previously.  “Hey kiddo,” she whispered quietly in his ear, “Grandma’s here, now.  I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?  I just need you to keep on fighting for me.  You can do that, can’t you?  You’ve made it this far; you haven’t got much further to go now.”

She straightened up and saw that Jeff had lifted his head and was looking at her.

“Mom,” he said quietly.  “Thank you for coming.”

“He’s going to make it Jeff, I’m sure of it.  He’s a Tracy.”

“As long as he doesn’t give us any more heart attacks!”

She had to smile at that, and carefully moved so she was the same side of the bed as her son, and put her arms on his shoulders.  “You doing all right, son?”

That last sentence triggered a reaction and Jeff took a jagged breath and a partial sob escaped his lips before he regained control of himself.  “I’ll admit to having a little trouble coping, but I’m getting there,” he finally managed to say.  “But look at him, mom.  Look at my son!”

“I know, Jeff.  It’s painful to see him like this, but he’ll recover.  Have faith in him.  He’s a Tracy through and through and he’s a chip off the old block,” she teased and was rewarded with a timid smile.

It was at that point that John and Virgil woke up and left their chairs to envelope Sally in a group hug, pleased to see her and have her support.

The pattern was set for the next few days.  Scott was kept in his induced coma whilst the gastro tube and IVs did their work.  The heat pads did what they were designed to do, his temperature crept up slowly and the antibiotics kicked in, gradually reducing his fever and the amount of fluid on his lungs.  His heart rate began to drop and five days later it was finally below 100 beats per minute.  Bruises from his final interrogation developed fully and then began to slowly fade.

Jeff kept Gordon, Alan and the rest of the family at Tracy Island updated, but not in too much detail; he didn’t want to frighten the youngsters, but he did give Kyrano the full details.

Gordon and Alan begged to be able to see their big brother but were firmly denied, which upset them, but Jeff held his stance and refused to move on the decision.  Sally was unsure it was the right one, but her son insisted that Scott wouldn’t want them to see him like this and it was going to be bad enough when he woke up and realised that John and Virgil were there, so she kept quiet.

Seven days later, Major Sinclair arranged to finally operate on Scott.  He wasn’t totally happy about it, but the need to realign the rib outweighed the risks, so the family spent an anxious three hours waiting for Scott to return from surgery.

“It went reasonably well.  We had a slight wobble, but Captain Tracy recovered well.  I’m going to keep him sedated for another three days and then we’ll try and bring him to consciousness.”

“Another three days!” Virgil had exclaimed.

“Patience, Virgil.  We can’t rush this, okay,” Jeff told him.

So they waited.  Virgil still had some final university work to complete and found it hard going, but when it was his turn to sit with his big brother, he found just being there enabled him to get it done.

Scott was gradually weaned off the sedatives, but it was another two days before any change was noticed.

Jeff was reading to him from one of his favourite books: The Aviators by Winston Groom.  He had his feet propped up on the edge of the bed, and was gently holding Scott’s hand with one of his own and turning the pages of the book that was propped up on his thighs with the other when he felt a slight movement in the splinted fingers.  At first he thought he had imagined it as wishful thinking, but it happened again.

Jeff immediately stopped what he was doing, put the book on the little table, his feet down on the ground and sat forward.  “Scotty?  Scotty, can you hear me?” he asked gently.

There was another slight twitch, so he stood up and hit the alarm button to summon the doctor.

John and Virgil looked up.  “Dad?” they chorused, standing, worry clearly etched into their features.

“I think he’s regaining consciousness,” Jeff replied quietly.  “No, stay where you are, we don’t want to crowd him.  Let the doctor take a look.  Perhaps one of you would like to go and find your grandmother?”

The two brothers looked at one another, nodded, then they both got up and left the room.  Their father returned his attention to his eldest.

“Hey there, Scooter,” he cooed, stroking his head.  “Come on son, open your eyes for me.  I’m right here.  You’re safe now.”  He felt another twitch of the hand.

Major Sinclair knocked softly and came in.  “Problem?” he asked.

“I think he’s regaining consciousness.  His hand has twitched a number of times now.”

Sinclair came forward and studied the monitors.  He nodded.  “I think you’re right.  He’s likely to panic with the intubation tube down his throat, but stay calm.  I’ll remove it as he becomes more cognisant.”  He moved to the opposite from where Jeff stood and waited.  “Talk to him, Colonel.”  Sinclair tilted the blinds slightly to reduce the amount of light coming in so it wouldn’t hurt his patient’s eyes when he finally opened them.

“Hey there, Scotty,” Jeff began softly.  “It’s dad here.  Are you able to open your eyes for me, son?  I know you can do it.  Come on now, let me see those beautiful blue eyes of yours.”

At first, nothing much happened, then…

-o-o-o-

He had been floating for what seemed like an eternity.  A little while ago—or maybe it had been longer than that, he wasn’t sure—he thought he heard muffled voices talking, but he couldn’t make out what was being said, but the voice had been soft, calm, loving.

At one point he even thought he had been with his mother.  Her vivid red hair, green eyes and soft voice had at first soothed him, and then she had ordered him to turn around and go back.  But he didn’t want to; he didn’t want to return to that hellhole and he pleaded with her to let him stay, but she had smiled, shaken her head and told him he had been rescued, and that his father and brothers were there, waiting for him to wake up.

He had turned around as she asked, then turned back to see her beautiful features one more time, but she had gone and he was left with no option but to do as she asked.

He felt the touch of a soft kiss on his forehead and the muffled voice slowly became clearer as his befuddled mind started to regain consciousness.  The voice was familiar; one he thought he would never hear again, but it couldn’t be here, in this hellhole!  It had to be a trick!  Wait!  His mom had told him he wasn’t there anymore; that he was safe.

With his senses slowly coming to life, he became aware of the fact that he was no longer shivering with cold, but was warm and… laying on something that was soft and comfortable, but what was that godawful noise?

He attempted to swallow and that was when he became aware of something down his throat and he panicked.  He raised his right hand to get rid of the offending item, but found his fingers wouldn’t bend and he was helpless to do anything.  An insistent voice attempted to break through his hazy consciousness as his breath hitched, upsetting the rhythm of the machine that had been breathing for him the past ten days or so and an alarm sounded.

Sinclair quickly switched it off in case it frightened his patient and began speaking calmly.  “Everything is all right, Captain, try not to panic.  I’m going to remove the breathing tube now; do you understand me?”

Scott attempted to thrash in his bed, but he was just too weak to do anything more than twitch.  His eyes cracked open slightly to see a stranger leaning over him and he attempted to struggle more, then a familiar voice was talking again.

“Scotty, it’s all right, you’re safe.  Dad’s here.  Son, stay calm whilst the doctor removes the tube.  Scotty, listen to me, it’s dad.  Scott!”

The sound of that commanding voice made him freeze and he switched his gaze to his right.  Jefferson Tracy stared down at him.  He blinked several times, convinced he was hallucinating, but the image didn’t change.

“Hey there, Scotty.  The doctor’s going to remove the tube, stay calm.”

He was aware of fingers carding through his hair; his father was smiling gently at him and holding his right wrist to stop him from hurting his hand further.

“Here we go,” Sinclair said as he gently removed the tube in one smooth movement.

Scott gagged as it came out and gasped as he attempted to get some air into his lungs, but he was almost hyperventilating in his panic.

“Scott, look at me,” Jeff demanded.  “Calm down.  Breathe with me; in…one… two… three… four… hold… hold… out… two… three... four… hold… hold… again…”

It took him a few attempts, but gradually he regained control of his breathing and with that he became more aware of his surroundings.  White walls, a man with the rank of a US major standing opposite… Dad… dad…

Whilst Jeff had been helping his son, Sinclair took the opportunity to obtain a nasal cannula and with his assistance, fitted it to Scott’s face to aid his breathing a while longer.

The tears welled.  A face he thought he would never see again.  His lips trembled as he tried to form the word… dad… nothing came out, but Jeff understood and he nodded.

“Yes son, it really is me.  You’re safe, in hospital.  We got you out.”

The tears were flowing freely now; he couldn’t stop them.  The relief was totally overwhelming, but with it came the shame.  Shame that he had surrendered, broken and given up; that he’d lost faith that he would eventually be rescued.  His throat was so raw and dry he couldn’t make a sound, so instead silent sobs wracked his body and it hurt; a dull throbbing pain, but he was used to pain and this one wasn’t so bad... he’d suffered a lot worse.

But how could his father even bear to look at him, show such love when he’d invited death to take him, despite a tiny voice echoing in his head somewhere to keep on living; keep on fighting to survive?

“It’s all right Scotty,” Jeff told him.  “It’s all right.”

But it wasn’t!  Why couldn’t his dad see that?

Sinclair disappeared for a few seconds and returned with a cup of small ice chips and a teaspoon.  He offered the items to Jeff, who took them, and carefully spooned a few of the chips into Scott’s mouth.

The relief on his throat felt wonderful, although he almost choked as a sob interfered with his sucking on the quickly melting ice, and he winced at the pain in his chest.

“Steady, steady,” Jeff soothed.  “It’s all right, Scott.  Just take it slowly.”  He offered him more ice and it was gratefully accepted.

“D – dad.”  His voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, that didn’t sound like him at all.

Jeff looked up at Sinclair.  “Doctor, do you think you can keep everyone else out of this room, please, apart from my mother?”

Sinclair nodded in understanding.  “I’ll ensure no one else apart from Dr Tracy comes into this room,” he confirmed.  “I’ll be close by in case you need me.”  He left the room, and Jeff gave his undivided attention to his eldest son.

“I… I’m… sorry…” Scott barely whispered.

Jeff frowned at him.  “Sorry?  You have nothing to be sorry for.”  A hand was back in his hair, carding, soothing him.

Scott’s breath was hitching, gasping as he fought for control, but failed and the tears continued to flow.  “I… I let… let you… down…”

“Never, Scotty.  What makes you think that?”

More tears flowed.  “I – I broke, dad.  I – I gave up… I wanted to… to… die…”  He was sobbing openly.

Jeff’s heart wrenched at the words. He carefully wrapped his son in his arms.  “Scotty, no… you didn’t break, son.  You didn’t give up… you being here proves that.  Everyone  says you should have died in that hellhole.  When we found you, they said you wouldn’t survive the night, but here you are, ten days later.  You’re alive son.  You didn’t give up.  Maybe consciously you tried to, but sub-consciously that stubborn Tracy-ness didn’t.  You won Scott, you have to believe that.”

“I’m sorry… sorry…”

“Listen to me son, you don’t have to apologise for anything.  Do you hear me?  You’ve been through hell, but I have you back, safe.”  Jeff drew back slightly and placed another kiss on his forehead.  “I am more than grateful to have you back.  Now you need to rest and get well.”  He gently wiped the tears from his son’s face and then realised he was crying too, with relief.

“D – dad…”

“I’ll say this one more time Scott, you don’t have to apologise for anything that may have happened in that hellhole.  What’s important is that we have you back and we’re going to do everything in our power to make you well again.  Do you understand me?”

Scott nodded feebly.

“I was so afraid that we’d lost you son.  But here you are.  Now you need to work on getting well again.”  He gave him another kiss on his forehead.  “I love you so much.”  He hugged him again and that was how Sally found them when she let herself into the room and her own tears of relief fell down her face.

o0o0o0o

[stitcher001]

The Road to Recovery

Scott's been recovered, but that's not the end of the story....

Warnings for this chapter: non-graphic description of injuries, some swearing, partial breakdowns.

Previous chapters can be found on AO3 here.

Chapter 3 – I’m Here, It’s Going to be All Right

Jeff was glued to his son’s side for the relatively short helicopter ride to the nearest base airport.  Those patients that were fit enough were being transported by lorry back to it, but those like Scott who were deemed highly critical were flown out as time was of the essence.  They needed urgent, specialised care where any delay could result in death.

The whole operation ran like a well-oiled machine and the casualties were quickly transferred from the helicopter to the C-17 where  they were made as comfortable as possible in the critical care units onboard for the longer flight to the closest US military hospital that was capable of treating severe injuries.

The medical staff quickly hooked Scott up to monitors, an IV, and provided him with oxygen from the medical grade oxygen system.  A ventilator and ICU equipment stood close by in case it was needed during the flight, should his condition deteriorate.

The aircraft was even equipped with operating room level care and due to its setup, could take 74 patients plus medical staff.

Walking wounded were quickly loaded, followed by those needing assistance and on stretchers until everyone was aboard.  The length of time before take-off was only twenty minutes.

It was so hard to just sit there, helpless, by his son’s side, watching him fight for every single breath that he drew into those fluid filled lungs.  The sound was just awful; bubbling, rasping, pain-filled, the effort caused his body to shudder as if it was going to be his last; the oxygen seeming to make little difference in easing his breathing and the sound of the monitoring equipment did little to disguise it.

Wishing he could do more, as they were flown to the closest US military hospital, Jeff gently took hold of one of Scott’s broken hands, being careful not to squeeze it and lightly stroked the back of it, over the bandages, with his thumb and attempted to will his strength into him whilst he whispered comforting words that he hoped he could hear, to him.

The important thing was he was still breathing; still alive, and Jeff prayed with everything he had to whomever would listen to not take his eldest away from him.  As he surveyed the gaunt features he almost wept.  Scott had always been a healthy boy but as a young man, he was  lithe, lean muscled, strong and fitter than he’d ever been… until now.

Jeff couldn’t stop himself and began to card his fingers through his son’s hair again.  “Hang on, Scotty,” he whispered.  “Please hang on, we’ll be at the hospital shortly, you’ll be in safe hands.  I’m here, it’s going to be all right, son, you’ll see.”  He leant over and placed a gentle kiss on Scott’s forehead, hoping that the young Captain would somehow sense his father and the fact that he had been rescued.

A couple of nurses were keeping a close eye on the most serious casualties on the flight, and one made a slight adjustment on Scott’s oxygen supply as they weren’t happy with the sound of his breathing.  It seemed to make a little difference in as much as Scott didn’t seem to struggle to take as deep a breath as before.  Jeff smiled his thanks at the nurse who simply nodded to him and moved on to check the next patient.

Just over two hours later, the C-17 landed and military ambulances lined up to take the casualties.  Priority was given to the most seriously injured, which included Scott.  The hospital had called in every available doctor and nurse to help cope with the inundation of patients.

“Okay, what have we got here?” a doctor asked.

“This is Captain Tracy.  Severely malnourished; tortured, fluid on the lungs due to probable multiple waterboarding episodes. Several fractured ribs, contusions, cuts, broken femur reset and splinted on site. Sats 86%, currently on oxygen.  Hypothermic at 30.6, but running a fever.   Discovered unresponsive.  Has not regained consciousness.  Given 20 mg of methadone as allergic to morphine and 500 mg of a wide spectrum antibiotic.”

“Understood.  Cubicle five.  We need to move urgently.”  They moved Scott into the cubicle and Jeff went to follow, but the nurse stopped him.

“I’m sorry sir, you can’t come in.”

“He’s my son!  I promise, I’ll stay out of the way, but please!”

The doctor fleetingly turned to him.  “Colonel Jeff Tracy?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, but stay out of my way.”  He returned his attention to his patient.  “Let’s get these flight suits off and see what else we’re dealing with, then get him hooked up again.  We need to make sure his sats don’t fall any more or we’ll have to intubate and I really don’t want to do that in his condition.”

Quickly and efficiently two nurses cut the offensive suits off Scott and dumped them in a plastic bag for disposal.

Jeff winced.  Scott’s body was black and blue practically all over and covered in cuts, welts and burns; some relatively fresh whilst others were partially healed and some were also infected.

“Replace the saline and glucose now.  If that vein in his arm collapses, try his hand or his ankle.”  The doctor ran the larger scanner over his body and gave a sigh.  “He’s too weak for surgery.  We need to stabilise him.”  He checked the broken leg and seemed happy with the splint for now.

They continued to work on him, when the alarms went off.

“He’s stopped breathing!”

They flew into action.  In a corner of the cubicle, out of the way, Jeff wrung his hands and bit his lip as they watched them intubate his son and get him breathing again.

“I really didn’t want to have to do that,” the doctor muttered as he watched the various readings on the monitors.

They waited ten minutes or so and satisfied that Scott was relatively stable, transferred him to a small room on the ICU ward.  The doctor stopped Jeff before he could follow them in.

“Colonel, why don’t you go and get a coffee and something to eat.  We need to clean Captain Tracy, set up a catheter and a gastrointestinal feeding tube, and replace the splint with a cast, but we can’t do these until he’s clean.  Come back in an hour and I’ll give you an update.”  It was not a request and Jeff suddenly found himself outside the now closed door.

He understood their reasoning.  Scott deserved some measure of dignity whilst the various procedures were carried out on him, but it didn’t make it any easier to leave his son in the hands of strangers, albeit well trained medical staff.  Jeff needed to let John and Virgil know that he had been successful and that their eldest brother was in a military hospital getting the treatment he needed.  They would be frantic, waiting to hear from him, so he grabbed a coffee and went outside to contact his second eldest.

“Dad!  What news?”  John, the usually calm and collected one sounded extremely anxious.

“We’ve got him, John.  He’s safe and I’m going to bring him home as soon as I can.”

“Thank God!  How is he?”

Jeff paused.  How did he explain Scott’s condition to his son?

“Dad?”

He still didn’t answer.

“It’s bad isn’t it.  Please, you have to…”  He broke off and Jeff heard Virgil’s voice in the background.

“Dad, you have to tell us, please!”  That was Virgil.

“Where are your brothers?”

“In bed.”

Jeff sighed.  “Very well.  I won’t lie to you boys, it’s very bad…”

“Dad!  Tell us!  We have a right to know!”  That was John again.

“He’s very sick… he’s been tortured, starved, beaten.  He’s been diagnosed with double pneumonia and has multiple fractures, a broken femur, cuts, bruises, burns.  I hate to think how much weight he’s lost.  I’m waiting for the final report from his doctor.  He’s too weak to undergo any surgery and he’s currently intubated as he can no longer breathe on his own.”

“Oh my God!” Virgil exclaimed, a sob escaping his lips.  “We’re flying out.”

“No, I don’t think that’s wise, boys.  Scott won’t want you to see him in his current state.”

“He’s our brother, we don’t care what his condition is; he’ll need us.  Grandma’s here, she can look after Gordon and Allie,” John replied.

“Besides, we think you could do with some backup if the situation is that bad.  What’s his prognosis?”

More silence followed.

“Dad!  What’s his prognosis?”

“If… if he survives the next 24 – 72 hours he has a fair chance.”

“We’re packing, right now.  You can’t deny us this, dad; just in… in case.  We’re on our way.  Which hospital is he in?” Virgil said.

“I’ll send the details across.”

“Thanks dad.  We’ll see you in about six hours.”

The connection was closed and Jeff gave a fleeting smile.  He didn’t really want his sons here, he was sure Scott wouldn’t want them to see him like he was, but on the other hand, Scott was unconscious and his brothers would want to be with him to lend their support, especially if the worst... NO!  Don’t even go there!  Scott will survive!  He’ll get through this!  He has he half muttered to himself.

Jeff suddenly uttered a sob and became conscious of tears streaking down his face  He assumed it was a mixture of relief that he had his son back, and shock at finding him in such an appalling condition.

A passing nurse stopped and gently touched his arm.  “Sir?  Are you all right?” she asked, concerned.

Jeff blinked to clear his vision and looked down into her worried face.  “I – I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t apologise.  You have someone in the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Did they arrive today?”

Jeff nodded.

“Oh my!  One of the rescued PoWs?”

He nodded again.

She patted his arm again.  “They’re in good hands here.  We’ll do everything we can for them.  Come on, back inside, it’s cold out here.”  She led him back inside into the relative warmth of the entrance and reception.  “You look like you should eat something.  The coffee may be crap, but the food is pretty good here.  Now, are you going to be all right?  Is there someone I can call for you?”

“Thank you.  You’ve been very kind.  Two of my sons are on their way.  They should be here in about six hours.”

“Well, if you’re sure you’ll be all right… I have to go.”

“I’ll be all right.  It’s just been… a bit of a shock.”

“I can only try and imagine.  Well, good bye.  I’m sure they will recover.”  With that, she left him standing in the reception hall.

Jeff noted the time.  He still had 20 minutes before he needed to get back to Scott’s room to see the doctor, so he went and got a sandwich and forced it down with the most hideous coffee he’d tasted in a long time, before making his way back.

He waited outside the room until the appointed time, then knocked softly on the door.  Hearing no reply, he went in.  The lights were low, but he could see the staff had done an excellent job of cleaning Scott up.  The only problem was it highlighted the extent of the contusions.  Ugly purple/green/blue mottling on his arms and body.  He assumed the same would be found on his legs, but they were covered with a sheet and blanket.

Scott was hooked up to all manner of devices and bags to monitor his condition; issue alerts should they be needed and replenish him with much needed nutrients.

A nurse entered carrying a number of warming gel packs that she carefully placed at strategic points of his body, then covered him with the sheet and blankets to help increase his core body temperature.  “The doctor will be here very shortly,” he said.  “He will explain everything to you.”

“Thank you.”  Jeff sighed heavily.  With all the monitors, devices, IVs and bags connected to his eldest, he was almost scared to approach the bed and touch him; terrified he might disturb or disrupt something that could cause his son pain or further injury.  He watched the nurse leave, then turned back to look at the young man in the bed.  “Oh Scotty, what have they done to you?” he mumbled, feeling close to tears again as he listened to the awful noise that the machine breathing for him made.  It just brought home how seriously ill he really was; hanging on by a thread to life.

Finally, he pulled himself together and carefully approached the bed, noticing they’d even managed to wash his son’s hair, but had not shaved off the beard.  Jeff so wanted that gone.  It was such a little thing to want to change, but he wouldn’t look like Scott until it had been shaved off to expose those incredible dimples.  He leant over and kissed his forehead, then stroked the now clean hair.  After around four months, it had grown and without the super shiny gel, it possessed a gentle curly wave, that due to his malnutrition made it appear lank and dull.

The door opened, and Jeff straightened and turned to see who had arrived.  It was the doctor.

He entered and closed the door softly behind him, before approaching Jeff and holding out a hand, which was taken and shaken.

“Colonel Tracy,” he began.  “I’m Major Sinclair.”  He indicated towards the bed.  “I know it looks bad; it is bad, but he’s alive and he’s fighting.”  He gave a short, sharp sigh.  “To be honest, we’re not sure how he’s still alive, but he has a slim chance and the more time that passes, the greater that chance of surviving becomes.

“He’s far too weak to operate on at the moment, and we need to do so as soon as possible as one of his broken ribs is pressing on his left lung.  Any wrong movement and it could puncture through the pleura and into it, so we need to get it realigned as soon as possible.  Even violent coughing could inflict serious damage, so we’re keeping him in an induced coma to stop that happening.

“Do not be concerned if you see blood in his urine.  He has bruised kidneys.  We’ll be keeping an eye on that and it should fade in a day or so.  The detailed body scan has revealed a partial fracture to his zygomatic bone on his left eye socket.  We’ve used the bone regenerator on all the ribs that were in the correct alignment, on his hands and his right femur; it was a clean break and we’ve managed to correct the displacement so he shouldn’t need surgery.

“We can confirm double pneumonia.  He was obviously waterboarded or partially drowned on numerous occasions.  Currently we cannot tell if his lungs will recover sufficiently for him to be able to fly hypersonic or even supersonic aircraft in the future.”

Jeff’s breath hitched.  “Sc – Scotty lives for flying,” he said quietly.  “It’s all he’s ever wanted to do since he first set eyes on the sky.”

“Let’s just take it one step at a time.  He’s still hypothermic and running a fever.  First we need to boost him, hence the feeding tube and IVs as he’s seriously dehydrated.  It’s supplying a little and often and contains a good supply of vitamins and supplements that he’s currently lacking.  We’ve estimated that he’s about forty-five pounds underweight and he’s also suffering from severe muscle atrophy.

“His condition is serious, but if we can get him past 72 hours, then I believe we have an 80 percent chance of him recovering physically…  His mental state we are currently unable to judge.  I’m sorry.  That’s all I can give you at the moment.  Hopefully we will have a better idea once we bring him out of the induced coma.”

“I – I understand,” Jeff said quietly.  He wasn’t a violent man—he abhorred it; even though he had killed men in the World Conflict being in the military, but right at that moment, he wanted to get his hands on Colonel Mendelski and inflict terrible pain on him; make him suffer as he had made his son and all the other prisoners, suffer.  His son, who was the most caring person he knew; who didn’t possess a single grain of arrogance, but who tried to help all those around him, whether they be family, friends, colleagues or complete strangers. But there was one question, he had to ask, even if he really didn’t want to know the answer.  A healthy Scott was a very handsome young man.  “Doctor… are you able to tell…” God, this is hard to ask!  “… has he been… sexually assaulted?”

The doctor’s eyebrows rose at that question.

“I’m sorry, I have to know… Scott is a good looking man… and he was in the camp that Mendelski commanded… it’s known he likes…”  He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Let me put your mind at ease.  We found no evidence to suggest that he has.  We’ve carried out a detailed full body scan on your son and I would have expected to see scarring on them, even if an attack had occurred early on in his internment.”

Jeff let out the breath he had been holding.  “Thank God,” he mumbled with feeling.

“If you have any worries or concerns about Captain Tracy’s condition, get ward reception to page me, okay?”

“Thank you, Major.”

Sinclair nodded at him, and left Jeff alone with his son.

Jeff placed a chair at the head of Scott’s bed and sat, a hand resting gently on his shoulder as if attempting to lend support and strength and he repeated what he had said earlier.  “I’m here, Scotty, it’s going to be all right.”  And that was where he stayed, until four hours later, when there was a soft knock on the door and it opened to admit John and Virgil.  Their father turned and rose from his chair to face them.

“Dad,” they said together as they moved forward for a group hug, then they shifted their attention to their eldest brother and gasped.

“NO!  That’s not… it can’t be… oh Scotty!” Virgil wailed, throwing himself towards the bed and leaning over to place his forehead against his eldest brother’s.  “Scotty…”  Then he was crying and a very shaken John attempted to pull him away so he could give him a hug and offer comfort, but Virgil refused to move.  “Scotty…” he mumbled again.

“Dad?” John asked tentatively.

“Scott’s in an induced coma.  Virgil, whatever you do, don’t touch his ribs.  He needs surgery, but he’s currently not strong enough.”

Virgil straightened up, tears running down his face.  “God!  Look at him, dad!  What did those bastards do to him?  When you were describing his condition I never thought it…”  He leant over and kissed Scott’s forehead.  “Come on Scotty, you’ve gotten this far, please don’t give up on us now, I couldn’t bear it.  Keep fighting, bro.  You have to keep on fighting.  We love you and we’re here for you.”

It was at that point the alarms went off as Scott crashed and Virgil screamed in despair.

o0o0o0o

[stitcher001]

The Road to Recovery

Second chapter of my new fic. In this chapter, the Tracy family learn first that Scott is missing in action, and later, that he has been killed. The family is distraught, but Virgil refuses to believe it...

Warnings for this chapter: Descriptions of injuries, some swearing, angst, grief.

Further chapters of this fic may be found on AO3 here.

Chapter 2 – It’s Okay You’re Safe Now

The Air Force still delivered bad news the old fashioned way.  The first time two officers arrived at the farmhouse in Kansas, it was to deliver the news that Scott was missing in action.  Jeff knew there was something wrong, because his eldest hadn’t been in touch for over a week and so far, he had religiously phoned his father after returning safely from every mission.

Three of his brothers had accepted the news relatively calmly, firmly believing that Scott was tenacious and resourceful enough to find his way back over the border and to the safety of allied territory without getting caught, but Alan was clearly upset at the thought of his big brother hurt somewhere over enemy lines.  Everyone had tried to comfort him, but he wouldn’t have it, even though Virgil told him that Scott was alive and that he would feel it if something really bad had happened to him.

But that night,  Alan raided his big brother’s wardrobe sniffing his clothes, searching for an item that smelt strongly of Scott; of him, his spirit, his hair gel, or his favourite cologne; anything that made him feel as if he was there in person, then he laid on Scott’s bed, hoping to find some essence of him there, but the bed had fresh laundry on it and held the smell of fabric softener.

He had hugged the shirts he held tightly in his arms, curled around them and that was how his brothers found him an hour or so later.  They all collected in Scott’s room, on his bed, creating an incomplete puppy pile as they tried to comfort one another.

And that was how their father found them the following morning.  It broke his heart, so he did his best to reassure them; reminding them how resourceful their big brother was; how strong; that he would return to them.

They all lived on the principle that no news was good news… until two officers turned up on the doorstep again after three months with the letter declaring that Scott had been killed in action.  Everyone but Virgil went into shock.  He kept on insisting that Scott wasn’t dead; that he could still sense him and that he’d know if he had been killed.

Jeff thought it was his way of dealing with the news and in the end called the doctor after his middle son hysterically begged him to start the search because Scott was alive, but he was in pain and needed to be rescued and the doctor had sedated him, despite Virgil screaming that there was nothing wrong with him; that he wasn’t being hysterical and that he really could sense his big brother alive somewhere in Bereznik.

Alan had a complete meltdown and was inconsolable at hearing the news.  He grabbed more of Scott’s clothing and refused to let go of it.  Gordon and John tried to comfort him but to no avail and he had run to his bedroom, thrown himself on his bed and cried and cried until he had no more tears left.

John retreated to his room and read his books, eating little, sleeping even less and Gordon and thrown himself into the swimming pool and swum lap after lap after lap until Jeff had had to dive in and rescue him when he collapsed halfway up the pool and almost drowned.  As for Jeff himself, he felt as if part of his heart had been ripped out of his body without anaesthetic and died.  His first born, his blue-eyed fearless Bluejay, who had fallen in love with the sky as soon as he had set eyes on it, and had followed his father into the air force; obsessed with speed and flying was gone at almost 23 years of age.

Jeff had drowned his sorrows in a bottle of whisky, just like he had when he had lost his beloved Lucy.  The only comfort he had was the thought that Scott would now be free of pain and suffering and he and Lucy would now be together and watch over the rest of them.

However, Virgil wouldn’t stop with his insistence that Scott was still alive, but was in a bad place.  He had gone into Scott’s room, grabbed Scott’s favourite pin badge of the fastest plane that had existed at the time and worn it day and night; often caressing it as if trying to soothe his eldest brother from afar.  Jeff considered sending him to therapy to help him get over the obsession with his brother, but before that happened, and surprisingly out of all of them, it was John who finally believed him.  He always knew that the two brothers had a special connection by the way they reacted to each other, and he took Virgil aside to listen to what he had to say about their eldest brother’s situation.  John was convinced and begged their father to call on every favour he was owed to find their brother before it really was too late and eventually, Jeff was swayed by the guilt trip his two sons put him on.

“Yes, we know it sounds insane, but you’ve seen how Scott and Virgil are around one another, dad!  They can finish one another’s sentences, know what the other is thinking.  Just suppose for one moment that Virgil is right; would you ever forgive yourself if you didn’t do everything in your power to check it out and discover Scott died because we didn’t do anything to try and find him?” John had said with impassioned fervour.  “Could you live with the knowledge that you could have saved him and didn’t?”

“And if it turns out we’re too late, we can at least bring him home!” Virgil added, his eyes bright with unshed tears.  “We need to get him home!”

That had hurt.  Jeff had even flinched, but the words pierced his heart and he was persuaded.

One of his old friends, Charles Gray, who had been in the Navy, was rumoured to now be in charge of a relatively new covert organisation known as Spectrum.  Jeff still had enough weight to use his rank and discovered that Spectrum had been given the job of clearing out the prisoner of war camps in Bereznik.  The organisation was said to have the best of the best; recruitment was brutal and the officers elite.

It took some doing, but eventually someone heard his plea, Charles—aka Colonel White—made contact and Jeff was assigned the protection of two of the colour captains from Cloudbase who were running the covert operation.  Jeff had immediately dug his fatigues, camouflage clothing and boots out of the back of his wardrobe, packed a bag and left John and Virgil in charge of their brothers, with assistance from his mother and Kyrano.

“Find him dad,” Virgil begged.  “Find him and bring him home… before it’s too late.  His situation isn’t good; he’s hurt and he’s in agony. Please, hurry.”

Jeff still wasn’t sure what to think about his spiritual son, but his most down-to-earth one had been convinced of Virgil’s sincerity in what he believed, so he knew he had to follow up on it, even if it did turn out to be a wild goose chase.

Colonel White issued instructions that he was to fly to Germany and make his way to Ramstein, the US Air Force base nearest the Berznikian border where he would be met by Captain Scarlet and Captain Blue.  He was to follow their orders to the letter.  Although Jeff was a retired Colonel, he was now a civilian so would not be permitted to undertake any dangerous actions, or put himself or his escort in perilous or threatening situations.

Jeff agreed and within a few days was on his way.  To say he was apprehensive was putting it mildly and he had tried to prepare himself for the worst case scenario—that his eldest son was already dead, but he prayed and begged his beloved Lucy to let him still be alive, no matter what his condition.

There were three prisoner of war camps in Bereznik and Spectrum were given the task of storming all of them, releasing the prisoners and capturing those in charge so they could answer for their crimes against humanity and disregarding the Geneva Convention in relation to their treatment of prisoners.

It was slow going at the camps.  Every prisoner had to be identified, triaged and shipped out.  Piles of dog-tags were retrieved from dead allied forces personnel, but so far no trace of Scott had been found.

Jeff found the experience harrowing and with two failures to find his son all his hope rested on the final camp, which had been run by Colonel Mendelski.  Jeff had done his homework.  Mendelski was a perverted sadist who appeared to be drawn to pretty boys and men, and alone in his tent the evening before they were due to invade the final camp, Jeff had almost hyperventilated at the thought of his handsome son being at the mercy of that monster; that he had been subjected to unspeakable atrocities which went against everything the Geneva Convention stood for.  That night he prayed and prayed to his dead wife not to take their first born; to please let him be alive and stay alive so he could be saved.

Needless to say he did not sleep well, as nightmares haunted him and he had jerked awake to the imaginary screams of his son as his mind had run riot in his dreams.  The final time he had moaned in his sleep, begging Mendelski not to hurt his son and then been shocked awake, somehow stopping himself from screaming his son’s name out loud.  There would be no more sleep that night for Jeff Tracy.

All his hopes now rested on this last camp, and Jeff was strung out.  He looked worse for wear at breakfast the following morning and the thought of eating anything turned his stomach.  Captain Blue gave him a knowing look and placed a mug of coffee in front of him.

“Rough night, Colonel?” he asked gently as he sat down opposite him.

“Yeah,” Jeff admitted.  “I know, this is our last chance of finding Scott and I don’t know what I’m going to do… what I’m going to tell my other sons if we don’t find him here.  They’re not going to take it well if…”  His voice trailed off.

“We’ll cross that bridge if or when we come to it,” Blue replied softly.  “We have hope and we need to cling onto that.”

Blue ate his breakfast in silence whilst Jeff picked half-heartedly at his.

Finished, the Spectrum officer stood up.  “We’ll operate the same procedure as we did for the first two camps, Colonel.  You’ll stay here until we’ve done a preliminary check to make sure it’s safe, then you’ll be escorted forward.”

“Thank you, Captain Blue, and… however it turns out, thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Sir.”  Blue nodded at him, joined up with Captain Scarlet, the ground troops and the medics and they left their base of operations to travel the five miles to the PoW camp.  In the end, it was suspiciously devoid of Bereznikian soldiers and those that were present didn’t seem to want to fight and surrendered relatively easily once they saw the firepower Spectrum had come armed with.

It took around an hour for Scarlet to be happy that they had everything under control and he suspected that the deteriorating weather had also dampened the resistance.

He’d hoped that the snow on the ground would have deadened the stench of death and decay, but all it did was make it cling to everything.  He assumed he would be used to it by now, but it still turned his stomach as he thought of what the prisoners had endured for God knows how long.

Having been a colonel in special ops, Captain Scarlet had seen it all, but had to admit this was the worst camp he had been in.

The World President had requested that Spectrum be the ones to storm all prisoner of war camps in Bereznik and this had been agreed by the World Council to free those interned and get them home.  Many had unfortunately returned in body bags and this camp appeared no different.  They found evidence of mass graves and ground forces began to meticulously uncover them, treating the bodies with respect, looking for ID tags, but all of them were missing, so a couple of medics took DNA samples and carefully labelled each body so the results could be matched and give each body a name.  They had ideally wanted to capture the man in charge; Colonel Franco Mendelski, but once again he had somehow escaped with many of his guards, so whilst a couple of the colour captains had turned their attention to trying to find any leads or traces of where he had fled to, the remaining were about to begin a thorough search of the camp.

Again, it was not going to be a very pleasant task, especially for his one civilian he had in tow who had somehow gotten permission from Colonel White to accompany them.  How had he managed that? Scarlet thought for the umpteenth time.  This was the final camp; his last chance of finding his son, preferably alive.  Currently the man—also an ex-colonel with both the US Air Force and NASA and world famous astronaut—was being held outside, five miles or so away from the camp until it was deemed safe for him to enter.

Spectrum ground troops had rounded up the few Bereznikian guards that had been left behind for transport to stand trial for war crimes, although the lower ranks were likely to get off lightly as they were following the orders of their superiors.

With the camp now secured, Scarlet radioed back to the holding area to get someone to escort their guest forward.  The man had made it clear—as he had at the previous two camps—that he needed to be there if they found his son.

Scarlet turned as he heard footsteps crunching through frozen snow and saw Captain Blue approaching; a cloth bag in his hand.

“Scarlet, it’s worse than we thought,” the blond announced.  He opened the bag, put a hand in and pulled out a number of ID tags.  “Looks like they removed the tags before disposing of the bodies.  We’ve found one mass grave, but there must be others.  We’re taking tissue samples and labelling the bodies so we can give them all a name.  When we find the rest—and we will find them—they’re also going to have to be DNA tested to match them to their tags.”

“Shit!” Scarlet mumbled.  “How many have you got there?”

“209.”

Scarlet winced.  “Have you gone through them?”

“Yeah.  Captain Tracy’s isn’t amongst them.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad, Blue.”

“Agreed.  Are we ready to start?”

“Almost.  Waiting for Colonel Tracy to arrive.  He should be here any minute.”

“I don’t envy him; this is the last camp.  What do you reckon our chances are of finding Captain Tracy alive?”

“Knowing Mendelski… slim to none.”

Blue nudged his fellow Captain.  “Here he comes.”

Scarlet turned and watched as Jefferson Tracy climbed out of the vehicle and walked up to them.  As usual, he was dressed in fatigues with a camouflage jacket over the top, cap on his head, boots on his feet  He paled when he saw the ID tags in Blue’s hand.

“Captain Tracy’s tags aren’t here, Colonel,” Blue answered, “but you have to understand that—”

“It’s not guaranteed, Captain Blue.  I know.”  He looked at his surroundings and couldn’t prevent a shudder.  “Can we get started?”

“You sure you’re up to this, sir?” Scarlet asked.

“I have to be.  My son has got to be somewhere in this camp and I’m planning on finding him and taking him home… no matter what.”

No one mentioned the possibility that Mendelski might have taken Scott with him.  After all, he would be worth a lot in ransom.

“Very well.  Let’s go.”

This particular camp was actually an old castle which had been adapted to serve as a secure holding area for prisoners.  Rooms had been divided into smaller ones, most with very little light, no heating and heavy, strong doors with large and solid locks.  It was extremely crude by modern standards but still very effective as most of those held within its walls were too weak to attempt any kind of escape.

Spectrum medical teams accompanied them, ready to provide triage and treatment where at all possible and arrange transport for any patients.  There were a number of vehicles standing by to take the patients back to the waiting C-17 that would move them to a US military hospital in Germany and a helicopter standing by for the more urgent cases.  Thus a systematic search of every room began.

Some rooms were empty, but then they began to find prisoners.  As each one was discovered, they were scanned to access their injuries.  Many of those recently captured were able to walk relatively unaided to awaiting transports; a few required assistance and a couple more needed hover stretchers due to injuries sustained during capture.

It seemed from those prisoners, that the cells were in ‘zones’ splitting the ranks off.  Everyone recovered so far were of lower rank, so Scarlet, Jeff, and one of the medical teams split off to start at the other end where higher ranked prisoners should be.

The first few cells were again empty.  Jeff wasn’t allowed entry unless an all clear was given by Scarlet, which annoyed him, but Spectrum was in control of the operation and he was forced to obey the colour captain’s orders.

The next couple of cells contained dead bodies; by the looks of them, recently deceased and Jeff closed his eyes hoping with all his heart and quietly praying to his beloved Lucy that he wouldn’t find Scott like this.

The medical team checked the tags and recorded the names, ranks, service numbers and dates of birth, then the bodies were carefully bagged and stretchered out to another transport.  It took time to work through the cells and with every failure to find his son, Jeff began to despair, wondering if Mendelski had taken Scott with him after all, as he would make a very valuable hostage.

They were almost in touching distance of one of the other teams that had started at the original end and there were only four cells left.  Scarlet gained entrance to the first one and heard a whimper.  He flashed his torch in the direction of the sound and saw an airman cowering in a corner.  The medical team approached cautiously and the man went berserk; his fear clearly ruling his mind as he started screaming.  Jeff looked on, trying to remain impartial but couldn’t help wondering what the poor man had suffered.  What was left of his flight suit was in tatters, filthy, blood-stained and the airman wasn’t in much better condition.  He was so thin and had clearly been starved.

The medics managed to administer a mild sedative and gently lay the man on a stretcher, recording the details on his tags before moving him out.

Scarlet glanced at Jeff and saw the older man’s face was unreadable, but the colour captain had been special ops, he knew how to read people and he could tell Jeff was very apprehensive and worried sick.

They moved onto the next room and Scarlet got the heavy door open.  Initially he thought the cell was empty, then he became aware of the agonised, rasping breathing coming from one corner.  He shone the torch in that direction and at thought it was just a pile of rags on the filthy mattress, before he realised it was another airman, as three quarters of the prisoners had turned out to be.

In the light of the torch, the tattered flight suit looked more rust red than blue.  Scarlet moved forward to the figure curled up in a foetal position and saw that despite the almost freezing temperature; the airman was sweating as he fought for every breath.  Carefully, he moved closer, and saw the ripped and damaged name badge on the suit.  TRACY.  He didn’t say anything, but gently lifted one of the tags around the man’s neck.  He had to clean the blood and dirt off it before he could read the inscription:  TRACY, SCOTT C, CAPTAIN, AF-0302-0014-M, DOB 04-04-2039, BG: AB+.

He turned to face the doorway.  “Colonel… according to the name on the flight suit and on the tags… this is your son; but do you recognise him?”

Jeff’s breath caught in his throat as he tried to move in a dignified fashion towards the ragged man on the mattress when he wanted nothing more than to rush to him and fling himself down by his side.  Scarlet stepped back out of the way and motioned the medical team forward.  They began scanning their latest patient as Jeff knelt and observed the filthy figure before him.  In the torchlight he could make out what looked to be a brown haired, bearded man; almost skeletal in appearance.  With the beard, it was impossible to properly identify him, but Jeff was convinced that despite his emaciation, Scott’s dimples would still be evident under the hair.  No one had dimples like his eldest; he had inherited them from his mother, but they were more pronounced than hers.  He had teasingly called them his weapons of mass destruction when Scott had started showing an interest in the opposite sex.

Gently, he reached out and ran a couple of fingers down the airman’s cheeks to feel for them, felt his chin, then carefully raised an eyelid to reveal a startling blue eye, made brighter by the fever that ravished his body.  He gasped.  “It – it’s him.  It’s Scott,” he whispered, suddenly overcome with emotion.  He desperately wanted to gather his son in his arms, get him out of his hell, but Scott was seriously ill on top of the injuries that Jeff could make out.  Instead, he ran his fingers through the matted filthy hair as if to try and soothe his son.

The medic was kneeling on Scott’s other side completing his scan and looked sorrowfully at Jeff.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know where to start; I don’t know how he’s still alive… the most obvious sign of distress is his breathing.  He has a lot of fluid on his lungs, preliminary diagnosis, double pneumonia.  He has a fever and yet he’s also hypothermic; multiple fractures, damaged tendons; his right femur is broken.  I’ve got reds flaring up all over the place.”

“Prognosis?” Jeff asked.

“Seriously Colonel, I don’t know.  If we can keep him alive for the next 24 – 72 hours he might make it, that’s all I can say.  We need to get him to a hospital, stat or he’s not going to make it through the night.  I’m sorry, Colonel Tracy.  We’ll try and stabilise him now before we attempt to move him.”

Jeff nodded.  He was about to take hold of one of Scott’s hands, when he saw broken fingers, and gave a soft cry of distress.  His eldest possessed long elegant fingers that had an easy tenth reach on a piano, but he hadn’t played since his mother had been killed.  “Scotty… it’s dad, it’s okay, you’re safe now.  I’ve got you, son.  Just hang on there.  You’re safe.”

Scarlet stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Jeff’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Colonel, let’s allow the medics do their work so we can get Scott out of here.  Come on.”  He helped Jeff to his feet and pulled him back out of the way.  Jeff was reluctant to move, but the warning about his son’s serious medical condition made him stand and allow the medics to stabilise him so they could prepare to evacuate him from the camp.

Another medic reached into the large first aid bag they had been carrying and pulled out a small oxygen cylinder and mask and placed that over Scott’s nose and mouth to try and ease his breathing.

Then between them they placed a backboard against him, very carefully straightened his body, and manoeuvred him onto his back.  Checking the scan of the broken leg, they manipulated the bone back into the correct position.  Scott was so far gone that he only made a quiet whimper at the movement.  The leg was then splintered as were the fingers before he was gently lifted onto the hover stretcher.  He was covered with a couple of thermal blankets and they left that hateful hellhole.

Jeff followed behind them closely, not wanting to lose sight of his son now that he had found him and almost broke down when they got out into the daylight and he saw what condition his son was really in.

Scarlet took his arm and helped to assist him back to the transport.  “Colonel, you need to be strong for him.  He will need the support of you and his family if he is to make a full recovery.  He’s still alive, so he’s a fighter; he didn’t give up.”

Jeff nodded.  He just couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from his unconscious son as the medics continued to treat him.

“Colonel, can you tell us if Captain Tracy is allergic to any medication?” one of the medics asked.

“He’s not too good with morphine when administered with certain other medication, but I’m not aware of anything else that causes an adverse reaction.”

“Okay, I’ll give him a shot of methadone to keep him comfortable for the journey and a broad spectrum antibiotic to start fighting the infections.”

Regaining his composure, Jeff took a deep breath and gave Scarlet his full attention.  “Captain, thank you for your assistance in rescuing not only my son, but all the other poor devils that were incarcerated here.  Please also give my thanks to Char – Colonel White for allowing me to accompany you.”

“Of course, sir.  Would you object if I enquire later how Captain Tracy is doing?”

“I have no objections.  Thank you.”

“Colonel Tracy, we’re about to move back to the landing site so we can fly the casualties out,” a Spectrum lieutenant said as he approached.

“No,” the medic said.  “He needs to be flown out now rather than driven.  Put him on the helicopter and then transfer him to the C-17.  He won’t survive the trip on the lorry.”

Jeff unconsciously bit his lip, nodded in understanding, then held out his hand to the colour captain.  “Thank you again, Captain Scarlet.”

The Captain grasped the offered hand firmly, then released it and stood back.  “Good luck, sir,” he said softly as he watched Scott being gently loaded onto the helicopter along with a couple of other casualties and Jeff climb in to join them.

As the helicopter left the castle, Captain Blue came up to him.  “You found him?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Scarlet shook his head.  “I’ll be surprised if he manages to survive until sunset,” he replied quietly and sighed as Blue winced.

“Poor bastard,” he said softly.

Scarlet wondered who he was talking about, the son or the father.

o0o0o0o

[stitcher001]

A Collection of Prompts

This prompt follows on from number 23 - I'm Not Leaving You. Jeff finally comes home to a hostile reception from John and Virgil and knows he has to make amends...

WARNINGS: Plenty of angst, nightmares, depression, but finishes on an up. Earlier chapters may be found on AO3 here.

Prompt 39 – It’s Okay, I Can Take It

Jeff’s hands were shaking as his second eldest son cut the connection on his mobile.  He’d been in an important meeting all morning, and had noted the message sent through by Gail—his PA—from John, asking him to contact him urgently.  Jeff had surmised that nothing could be as important as his meeting and sent back that he would call home after the meeting had concluded.

He couldn’t have been more wrong if he’d tried.  Whilst he had been securing a most lucrative deal, his eldest son had attempted to take his own life.  John’s words reverberated around his brain… “We just thought you’d like to know that Scott just tried to commit suicide.”  His son’s voice had sounded like acid; full of contempt for his father, and he’d then told him not to bother coming home, they’d managed to resolve the issue and he was sure work was more important than his eldest son’s life.

Jeff had felt the anger rising at that remark and had warned John, only to have him interrupt and lay the guilt trip fully on him.  “Can you imagine if he’d succeeded in blowing his brains out and Alan had found him?  Scott needs all our support and…”  John had broken down at that point and Jeff realised he was a terrible father… again!

John’s words hurt, but more than that, they had terrified him.  The ‘what ifs’ rolled around in his brain as Jeff threw everything into his work rucksack and he told Abby to cancel everything for the next two weeks.  He had to step up and be the father his children needed so badly.  Sure, two of them were in their twenties, but they still needed their father and he was determined to be there for him.

He was distracted on the flight home, which was not a good thing, but he was attempting to get into his eldest son’s mindset and had the grace to admit that he had no idea what it must have been like to be a PoW; to be tortured, have his body broken; his mind begin to doubt himself; to think no one was going to rescue him and that he would die there—almost DID die there, if it hadn’t been for Spectrum stepping in to free all PoWs from the three camps.

Jeff so wanted his eldest son back as he had been before… Bereznik, but there was a serious chance that he wouldn’t, and he had to be prepared for that.  Scott hadn’t set foot near a hanger, let alone a plane since he’d been home, and Jeff was worried that his Bluejay had completely lost his nerve.  Scott had lived for flying… if he didn’t have that then what did he have instead?

Tears prickled at the corner of his eyes at the thought of Scott being afraid to fly anymore.  No!  Please Lucy, don’t let it be so! he begged of his dead wife.  I know I’ve been a terrible father.  Help me be the parent I need to be to see Scott and all of them through this.  He pushed his plane to the limit to get to Tracy Island as soon as possible to see his sons.

It was Virgil who took the call from Jeff as he approached the island.  He gave him clearance to land and informed him of wind speed and direction.

“How’s Scott?” Jeff asked his son, somewhat nervously.

“Sleeping.  John’s with him, keeping an eye on him, just in case.  I’ve confiscated Scott’s firearm and John’s hidden it away somewhere so he can’t get hold of it.”

Jeff heard the waver in his middle son’s voice.  “And how are you doing?” he asked tentatively.

“I’ve been better,” came the rather shaky response.  “It was awful, dad.”

“Virgil, I’ll be there in five minutes.  Just take a seat and breathe deeply, okay?  We’ll sort it out, somehow.  I promise.”

He cut comms so he could concentrate on the landing.  Finally on the ground, he taxied into the hanger, didn’t bother with post flight checks, and made his way up to the lounge as fast as he could.

Virgil was still sitting at Jeff’s desk when he arrived, a little breathless.  His son looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed.

“Son,” Jeff said, placing his bag on the floor, holding out his arms, and before he blinked, Virgil was enfolded in them, trying not to sob.

“It… it was… was awful… dad.  He… he was really gonna… go through with it…”

His father combed his fingers through his son’s hair in an attempt to soothe him.  “Did he say why?” he asked softly.  He needed to obtain as much information as he could so that he could help his eldest.

Virgil sniffed.  “He… he said he felt dead inside, that he… he was being dragged down into the depths… that he didn’t belong and shouldn’t be here.  He… he says he doesn’t want to be a burden because he’s not the same person anymore.  And… and he can’t stand the way we look at him… the looks of pity… and says it would be better if he… if he wasn’t here.”

Jeff closed his eyes at those words and cleared his throat before replying.  “Scott’s recovery is going to take time.  On the flight here, I’ve been trying to put myself in his shoes; trying to imagine what’s going on in his head; what he thinks; what he feels.  I don’t think I can even get close, but what I do think is, he’s not going to make much of an improvement until his body heals some more; until he has some weight back; until he can look in a mirror and see himself again.”

“He’s ashamed of his body, dad.  He keeps it covered all the time, so he doesn’t have to look at the scars, or how thin he is.  We’ve had to cover over the mirror in his ensuite so he doesn’t have to catch sight of himself.  He won’t listen to us when we tell him he doesn’t have to be ashamed.  They are his battle scars, they show he’s lived, but he won’t accept it.  We… we don’t know what to do.”

“How’s his appetite?”

“It is improving, very slowly.  Kyrano is tempting him with all his favourites and rewards him when he eats the required amounts.  He spends time talking with him… I don’t know what about, but I think it’s beginning to have some effect.”

“Kyrano is very wise,” Jeff said, a small smile on his lips.  “If anyone can make him see sense, it’s him.”

“I hope so, dad.”  Virgil pulled himself together and straightened up.  “We can’t lose… I can’t lose him, dad.  Please help us.”

Jeff’s throat constricted once again at the open plea in his son’s voice.  It appeared Scott wasn’t the only one who was broken.

“I’ll do everything in my power to help him, I swear to you, Virgil.  I am here for you all.”

“You’d better be, dad.  That’s all I’m going to say.”

Jeff nodded.  “Would you mind making me a sandwich and coffee and bring it to Scott’s room.  It’s time I started being a proper father again.”  He gave Virgil’s biceps a gentle squeeze before heading for the stairs to the bedrooms.

Virgil watched him go and prayed to his mother that his father would keep his word and step up to fulfil his responsibilities; then he picked up his dad’s rucksack, took that to his office and went to the kitchen to make the requested sandwich and coffee.

Jeff stood outside Scott’s bedroom door and took a deep breath before knocking quietly and pushing it open. The room was in partial darkness.

John looked up as he entered, but made no effort to move and greet him.  “You’re home then,” was all he said and returned his attention to his tablet, after checking to see that Scott was still asleep.

Jeff squared his shoulders and approached the bed.  His eldest was asleep on his side, hair mussed, but his features looked relaxed in the still gaunt face.  The hand that was visible above the covers,  on the pillow next to his face, was thin, the outline of the bones still clearly visible and Jeff’s heart constricted in pain.

“I’ll be here indefinitely,” Jeff said quietly.

“Whatever you say.”

“John—”

“I’m not having a conversation with you right now, sir.  I’m looking after my brother.”

Jeff flinched.  It was clear that his second eldest had no intention of forgiving him yet; probably wouldn’t until he had proved that he was going to be here for his children.  So he said nothing, and simply leant over to place a soft kiss on Scott’s temple and ran a hand through his hair before sitting on the other chair, holding his hand gently, conscious of how fragile it still looked.

Virgil arrived a little later carrying a tray with sandwiches and three coffees on it.  “I figured we could all do with a drink,” he said.  “I made some extra sandwiches, just in case.”  He offered the coffees and sandwiches before placing the tray on the bedside table.  “How is he?”

“Okay.  Sleeping well, no nightmares… at least not yet,” John said quietly.

“That’s good.”

“Nightmares?” Jeff questioned.  “I thought he was over them.”

“No sir.  He has at least one a night… as many as half a dozen on a bad one.”

Jeff looked worried.  He had no idea… but of course he wouldn’t, he hadn’t been around to hear them.  “I… I didn’t know…”

John was still not in a forgiving mood as he retorted, “Well you wouldn’t, you’re never here.”

“I promise, that is changing right now,” Jeff came back with.

“Yeah, until it suits you,” the blond mumbled half to himself, but loud enough that Jeff heard it.

He didn’t come back with a response though, because what John had said was true… or at least it had been up until this moment.

At that moment, Scott whimpered in his sleep.  It was a pitiful sound that wrenched Jeff’s heart, and then it broke when he heard him pleading.  “N – no… I don’t… I don’t know!  I don’t…” his breath hitched and he began to thrash around as he cried out in what sounded like pain.

Jeff went to reach for him, to hug him and tell him it was okay, that he was safe, but John’s words froze him to the spot.

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!” he hissed quietly.

“But we need to wake him up!” Jeff came back with and went to reach for his eldest again.

“I SAID, DON’T TOUCH HIM!” John snapped.  He nodded at Virgil, who began to hum softly.

It took Jeff a couple of  minutes to realise that it was a lullaby that Lucy used to sing to all the children when they were young.  Slowly, the thrashing and the cries ceased as Scott settled down again; his breathing eased.  Only then did Virgil reach out and gently rub a thumb over one of his brother’s hands and Jeff watched as unconsciously, Scott reached for Virgil’s hand and squeezed it.

“You mustn’t touch Scott when he’s having a nightmare, or he’s likely to kill you… literally,” John told his father.  “We found that out the hard way.  Virgil had to rescue me.  We’ve never told Scott about it.  He’s been through more than enough without learning that he almost killed his younger brother.”

Jeff paled.  He had no idea.  What else didn’t he know about his eldest?

“I’m sorry,” Jeff said quietly.  “I’m sorry.  Please let me make it up to all of you.  Let me play my part.  Scotty needs all of us.”

“Yes, he does,” John said pointedly.  “Especially his father, right now.”  He fixed Jeff with a hard stare.  “Don’t you dare hurt him again, sir.  You’ve hurt him enough and he doesn’t deserve it, so be warned.”

With that, John got up and left the room, whilst Virgil looked uncomfortably at his father.  The gentle brother hated conflict and felt awful that he was ill at ease in his presence.

“Would you mind if I took over?” Jeff asked quietly.  “I can sit with him, now I know what not to do.”  He watched as Virgil unconsciously gently squeezed Scott’s hand as he contemplated the offer.

“Okay,” he finally answered, somewhat reluctantly.

Jeff watched as his son carefully extracted his hand from Scott’s and stood up, relinquishing his chair to his father.

“Any issues, just shout.  Scott may feel somewhat disorientated when he wakes up, so make sure you talk softly and reassure him.”

Jeff nodded as he took Virgil’s chair.  “I will.  And Virgil… thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, dad,” was all the reply he got as he quietly left the room.

Jeff sat, one hand holding one of Scott’s whilst the other carded gently through his eldest’s hair.  After a few times of doing this, Jeff noticed how his son leaned into it.

“Mom…” Jeff nearly missed it, it was spoken so quietly, and his breath hitched.

“It’s all right, Scotty,” he said equally as softly.  “Dad’s here.  Dad’s got you, son.  Sleep.  It’s going to be all right.”

Jeff wasn’t sure how long he sat there, continuing with the stroking and just whispering nonsense to keep his son calm, but he suddenly became aware of a change.  Scott gave a little moan and shifted position slightly, then his eyelids fluttered and he slowly opened his eyes.

“Hey, Scotty.  How are you feeling?” Jeff asked him softly.  Then his heart wrenched once again as he felt him stiffen beneath his fingers.  “It’s okay, Scotty.  It’s Dad.  I’m here.”

Scott’s eyes finally focused on the figure sitting by him.  “D – Dad?”

“Yes, son.  It’s really me.”  He watched as Scott swallowed, then averted his eyes; not in disappointment, but in shame.  “Scotty, talk to me, son.  Please.”

“Don’t waste your time on me,” came the whispered response.  “I’m not worth it.”  He tried to turn over, away from his father, but Jeff held onto him, refusing to let him do so.

“Why would you think that, son?  I know I haven’t been here when you needed me, but I promise you, I’m here now and I’m staying, I swear it.”

“Is… is that what it takes to… to get you here?  My attempted suicide?  I couldn’t even get that right…”

Jeff’s heart shattered.  “No son, don’t, don’t say that.  I’ve been stupid and blind, but I’ve got my eyes open now.  I ask that you forgive me for not being here when you so badly needed me.  I’ll say it as often as you need me to, but I’m here now and I’m staying.”

Scott shook his head.  “No.”

“No?  But I want to be here for you, Scotty.”

His son gave a slight huff.  “No you don’t.  You’re ashamed of me.”

“Never!  I’d never be ashamed of you!  Why would you even think that?”

“Look at me, Dad!  Look at me and tell me what you see!”

“I see my beautiful, brave, determined eldest son, who has his mother’s dimples, striking blue eyes; her kind nature; who loves his brothers… but I can also see he’s very troubled and—”

“Beautiful?  What planet are you on, Dad?  Look at me!”  He managed to jerk himself away from his father’s grasp, sat up with a bit of a grunt and threw the covers back.  “What’s beautiful about this?” he demanded, indicating his scarred and still emaciated body.

“We can fix this,” Jeff began but was interrupted again.

“That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?  Throw enough money at it and get it fixed.  Is that how you view me?”

“No, son.  Never!  You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, and have suffered—”

“You’ve no idea what I’ve been through!  Not only this, but ever since Mom died!”

“Then tell me.  Lay it on me, right now, Scott!  I promise you, it’s okay, I can take it!”

Jeff observed the brightness of his son’s vivid blue eyes; more alight than he’d seen them in the months since his liberation from Bereznik but filled with what?  Self-loathing?  Shame?  Anger?  Disappointment?  All he knew was, he had to get Scott talking, shouting, screaming… hell, even a complete meltdown would be welcome to get all those emotions, feelings out into the open so that he could start to heal again.

“Come on Scott, you’ve never been afraid to speak your mind.  Whatever it is, I’m telling you now, it’s okay, I can take it.”

Slowly and very unsteadily, Scott began his story… starting after the avalanche that had killed Lucy and Grant, of giving up everything to take care of his brothers because there were no adults present.  Lying to school, to authorities, forced to grow up too soon, of taking full responsibility for the care of his brothers, of crying at night in his bed, begging his dead mother for help because he couldn’t cope any more.  Of being so tired and exhausted with lack of sleep and the strain of it all, and of his final collapse from malnutrition and absolute fatigue.  Then he talked of his recovery, and obtaining his degree and joining the Air Force.

Then it became dark again as he was stationed in Europe; the Bereznik Civil War, and that fateful final mission when his navigator—Raven—couldn’t bail out when their aircraft got hit because the canopy failed to blow; that Scott had planned to stay in the aircraft and guide it so it didn’t hit the village in front of them.  His navigator was injured, but he’d managed to finally release the canopy and get him out; how they made a run for the border, with him carrying Raven over his shoulder; how he’d been shot in the leg whilst trying to carry him; how Raven had been executed without reason; how Scott had been beaten senseless by the guards after his capture.

Then he’d been dragged before Mendelski, the notorious commander of the PoW camp he was in, and been subjected to his snide innuendos; the unwelcome touches after he’d been stripped naked and strung up like a piece of meat, toes barely able to touch the ground.

Mendelski had beaten the guards who had inflicted damage on his face.  The Colonel liked handsome men, and the blue-eyed, dimpled USAF Captain was most certainly good-looking and no one damaged property he considered to be his without his permission.

Scott carried on… he couldn’t seem to stop talking once he’d started about the near drowning from the repeated waterboarding, being drugged, electrocuted, beaten, mentally tortured by being told he was worthless, useless, that no one was coming for him; that he would die there and be forgotten.

Scott faltered.  Jeff took hold of his son’s hand and squeezed it gently.  “Go on, son,” he encouraged.  “Let it all out, then you can start to heal properly.”

With encouragement from his father, he continued; how Mendelski told him he could stop all the pain if he gave himself to the Colonel and the shame when he’d considered it for just a millisecond before discarding the idea, because he knew Mendelski would just throw it back in his face about his weakness and offering himself to make the pain stop.

Scott tried so hard to remain positive, strong, but as the days and weeks passed, the toll on his body and mind, with the beatings, drugs and everything else they subjected him to, along with hardly any food or water, finally began to break him and he gave up.

He hung his head in shame at that admission.  A Tracy NEVER gave up, but he had because he couldn’t take it anymore.  By then though, the double pneumonia had taken a firm hold; he could no longer scream in agony no matter what they did to him, and as he had sunk further towards death and blessed release, he had been totally unaware of the final injuries his body had suffered.

Jeff listened to all of it; his features pale, his anger rising at what his son had been subjected to.  He had seen the wounds and injuries on his eldest’s body; he had a good idea about what had happened, but to have Scott describe it was… almost too much to bear.  He looked at his son, whose head was bowed in shame.

“Son, look at me,” Jeff said quietly.  “Scotty, come on, look at me, please.”

The vivid blue eyes flicked up and back down almost immediately.

“Please son, look at me.”

His expression was similar to that of a beaten animal and he was shaking violently.  Jeff realised his son had reached rock bottom; there wasn’t any further to fall and now he understood the suicide attempt.  Somehow, he had to make his son see that there was hope at the end of the tunnel, that he wasn’t ashamed of him.  How determined to stay alive he must have been to have been found alive when he should have been dead.

“Scott,” he placed a hand under his son’s chin and forced his head up.  Wounded blue eyes looked fearfully into grey.  “You are the bravest, most determined young man I know.  You should have died, but some spark within you wouldn’t let that happen and I am beyond grateful that you survived.  I couldn’t bear to lose you; or any of you for that matter, but you especially, son.  You defied the odds!  You survived, and the best way to honour those that didn’t, is to live.  Live a full life.  Let your brothers and me help you in your recovery, because you have that determination to be able to do that, no matter what you’re feeling at this precise moment.  You have that strength deep within you, and with our help, you’ll succeed.  Do you hear what I’m saying?”

Scott nodded slowly but didn’t say anything.

“You have to believe in yourself, son.  That you can get better, with help from us, but you have to want to get better too.  You deserve to get better.  Say it.  Come on, Scotty, say it… I deserve to get better.”

Silence reigned for a number of seconds before Scott mumbled the words so quietly that if his lips hadn’t been moving, Jeff would have thought he hadn’t said anything.

“I can’t hear you.  Louder.  I deserve to get better.”

“I … deserve to… get… get better.”

“Louder!  Shout it out!”

“I deserve to get better.”

“Now say it like you mean it!  I deserve to get better!”

“I deserve to get better.”

Jeff repeated it with him, again and again and again, their voices getting louder each time, until they were both shouting it out.

John, Virgil, Gordon and Alan rushed along the corridor to Scott’s bedroom, but they stopped and listened as the chant continued.  John looked at his brothers and nodded and they took up the chant too, opening the door so Scott could both see and hear them joining in.

There wasn’t a dry eye in his bedroom as they all hugged one another tightly and shouted at the top of their voices, “I DESERVE TO GET BETTER!”

John looked at his father over the heads of his brothers, and Jeff saw the nod of forgiveness.  He returned it with a tentative smile.  The family would be whole once more.

o0o0o0o

[stitcher001]

The Road To Recovery

Some of you may recognise parts of this from my Series of Prompts I'm currently doing. A few of you asked if I would turn it into a full blown fic, so... I've made a start on it. Chapter 1 is Prompt 9 - Please Don't Forget Me. It has been augmented here as I've started to fill it out.

WARNINGS: This is about Scott's rescue from Bereznik and his slow recovery, so there is mention of torture, starvation, loads of angst, and even some sexual innuendo, so be warned!

Chapter 1 – Please Don’t Forget Me

Pain.  He couldn’t remember a time without it; couldn’t recall a moment when he had been free of it.  How long had it been now?  He didn’t know, he’d lost track of time; of days after the first couple of weeks, but how long had it been now?  Two months?  Three?  Six?  He had no idea.

Oh, he had been so brave, so full of fight when they had first dragged him into this hell hole after he’d been shot down; concussed, wounded, and thrown him into a dark cell with what he eventually found to be a filthy mattress in one corner and a bucket in another when he regained consciousness after they let him know just who was in charge in a way that had hurt… a lot; not that he remembered much after the first ten minutes or so as the guards had taken turns beating the crap out of him, laughing and throwing insults at him as they did so.

They’d left him alone for a day or so to ‘recover’, but provided no water or food; not that he could have eaten or drunk anything because he was unconscious for a day and a half.  He’d regained consciousness slowly, with a splitting headache, a mouth that felt like a hairy fungus was growing in it and a body that he believed was one massive bruise.

He managed to get one eye open—the other seemed to be glued stuck—and through blurred vision and exceedingly poor lighting managed to survey most of the surroundings of the small cell.  He was lying on a rough, cold stone floor and spied what he believed to be a mattress in one corner.

Finding he was unable to get up and walk, he dragged himself over to it, wincing as a different bruise protested at each movement, until he was lying on it.  It wasn’t particularly soft, or thick, or clean but it was better than the floor, even if it smelt slightly damp and musty.  He didn’t even give a thought as to what might be crawling around in it.

His one good eye drifted shut again as he succumbed once again to unconsciousness.

He had no idea how much more time had passed when he next awoke because his watch had been taken off him when he’d been captured, but knew he had to move as his bladder was sending him a message.  Staggering to his feet, he found the bucket in the opposite corner and relieved himself before shuffling back to his mattress and slumping back down on it.

His right eye still refused to open; his headache was worse and he realised he was dehydrated, but was more lucid and aware of his surroundings.  There was one tiny, barred window at the back of the cell and a heavy door on the opposite one.  He wasn’t going anywhere soon.

More time passed, then suddenly there was the sound of footsteps, the door being unlocked and three burly looking guards entered.  Scott didn’t even get a chance to get to his feet before two of them grabbed him and literally dragged him out of his ‘cell’, down a corridor whose lights seemed to flicker on and off and into another room, with lights that seemed retina blinding after the darkness he had been in, that made his one working eye water as he tried to blink rapidly and adapt.  He was roughly pushed down into a chair and held there by the very firm, strong hands of one of his ‘escort’ on his shoulders, whilst the other used two pairs of handcuffs to fasten his hands to the back legs of the chair.

A highly decorated officer of what he recognised to be the Bereznikian army surveyed him from a few feet away.  Swagger stick tucked under his left arm; he rocked on the balls of his highly polished booted feet.

“Captain Tracy, how nice of you to rejoin the land of the living,” he said with hardly a trace of an accent in a conversational tone.  In fact, it had a slight American twang to it, so Scott surmised he’d either been educated or spent some time there.

“H – how long have I been here?” Scott asked, surprised by how hoarse and strained his voice sounded.

“Two days.”

If Scott was shocked, it didn’t show.  He kept his face neutral, but the fact he’d already lost that small amount of time worried him.

“I’ve been looking forward to us having a little chat.”

I bet you have, Scott thought, but didn’t say anything else.  What was the point?  He knew what was in store for him no matter what he said.

“But where are my manners?  Introductions are in order.  I am Colonel Mendelski, at your service.  Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Shit!  Oh, he’d heard of him all right, and with the knowledge of who his tormentor was going to be, Scott realised his only way out was going to be in a body bag.  A hard squeeze on a bruised shoulder reminded him that the Colonel expected an answer, so Scott gave him one.  “No, can’t say that I have.”  The response was little more than a whisper.  Lack of food and water were beginning to take their toll.

The Colonel’s expression hardened and for a moment, his right hand tightened on the swagger stick, as if he debated whether to use it or not, then he relaxed and smiled.  “No matter.  That will soon change; but I did some checking up on you, Captain.”

He turned and sauntered back towards a desk and perched on the end of it as he picked up a tablet, waved it around and contemplated the man before him, then studied the screen.

“Scott Carpenter Tracy, eldest son of the famous Colonel Jefferson Tracy, first man to step foot on Mars.  So, you followed daddy’s footsteps into the Air Force.  How’s that working out for you?  No, don’t answer that.  Graduated top of your class…  It seems you have beaten all your father’s records; a purple heart, Bronze Star Medal, Air Force Combat Action Medal, Air Medal and the Silver Star.  Impressive for someone of your age.  What are you… let’s see… 22?  23?  Very impressive indeed.”

Scott kept quiet, not quite sure in which of three possible directions the conversation was going to go.  Torture, ransom, or both?  All he did was swallow slowly in an attempt to moisten his dry throat and kept his eyes fixed on Mendelski, and wondered how on earth they had gotten hold of his service record.

“You are a very handsome young man—or you will be when we get you cleaned up—and I can see where you get your good looks from.”  He put the tablet down, got up from his perch on the table and walked over to Scott, who froze, but refused to back down as the Colonel grasped his chin and forced the Captain to look up at him.  “It would be a pity to mar such beauty…”

Scott’s heart rate jumped up; he did his best not to start breathing hard at the threat, and managed to wrench his chin free of the Colonel’s grasp and jerked his head back as Mendelski attempted to run a finger down his cheek.  Suddenly, the swagger stick was shoved hard under his chin, forcing his head back further.

“I can be kind and considerate, Captain… or may I call you Scott, as we’re going to become very good friends…”  The end of the stick wandered down past his neck, chest, stomach, towards his groin.

Scott couldn’t prevent a slight shudder working its way through his body.  He swallowed.  “Tracy, Scott, rank Captain, service number AF-4302- ooooff!” he gasped and then coughed as the swagger stick was rammed into his midriff, knocking the wind out of him.  His body tried to double over at the blow, but a guard grabbed him by his hair and prevented this.

Gasping for air, his working blue eye glared up at Mendelski, filled with rebellion and the Colonel smiled, although it did not reach his eyes.

Mendelski’s hand grabbed his chin in a painful hold and a thumb brushed over Scott’s lips before it dropped to his neck, squeezed slightly, then  moved to the zipper of his G-suit, drew it slowly down to his waist, then did the same with the fastening of his flight suit before retrieving a small, sharp knife to cut up the front of the standard issue t-shirt and allowed his eyes to absorb the sight of the now exposed skin.

Scott did his utmost not to react, but the way the Colonel was looking at him made his blood run cold, his skin crawl and he couldn’t prevent a shiver as his captor ran his fingers back up his chest and smiled again.

“Oh, so pretty,” he whispered in Scott’s ear, making him swallow nervously.  Mendelski straightened up and addressed the guards.  “Take him to the infirmary and get the doctor to check him over and clean him up.  I don’t want our special guest to die of sepsis before we’ve had a chance to talk.  And guards… no one lays a finger on him without my say so… understood?”  The guards nodded, then the Colonel stepped back, watching with avid interest as the guards released Scott from the chair, re-handcuffed his hands behind his back, pulled him to his feet and frog-marched him out and to the infirmary.

The doctor looked up from behind his desk as Scott was shoved none to gently through the office door, followed by two of the guards who stood either side of him.

The doctor peered over the top of his glasses and stared at them.  Seeing the USAF flight suit, he switched to English.  “Yes?” he asked in a rather heavy accent.

“The Colonel requests you check the prisoner over and get him cleaned up.  Says he doesn’t want him dying of sepsis before they’ve had a chance to talk.”

There was a brief chuckle from the other guard at this point.

Removing his glasses, the doctor stood up and gave Scott the once over.  “I see.  Come with me.”  He led the way through another door, back into a corridor, then through another door which housed some showers and looked clean.  “Please remove the cuffs.  He can’t very well clean himself restrained as he is.”

The guards looked at one another, nodded and one of them uncuffed him.  Scott brought his hands in front of him and rubbed his wrists in relief.

“There is only one way out of this room,” the doctor told the guards, so only one exit to protect.  He turned to Scott.  “Strip and shower.  Then I will examine you.”

Having four brothers who had no sense of privacy and with his experience of Air Force life, Scott had no qualms about removing his clothes in front of complete strangers, and did so, wincing every now and again as his bruised body objected to the movements.

He caught sight of himself in a smallish mirror and saw why he could only open one eye.  The other was caked in dried blood from a head wound and had basically stuck his eyelid down.  He also managed to glimpse bruising starting to appear on his body, legs and arms.  Mendelski wouldn’t consider him so pretty once it developed fully.

Naked and with his head held high, Scott entered the shower room.  To his surprise the water was hot, and he made use of the shower gel and shampoo, finally feeling clean again as he exited.

The doctor handed him a towel which he used to remove the excess water, then wrapped it round his waist when he was told not to get dressed.

With his clothes in his arms, he followed the doctor to another room where he was told to put them down on a chair and sit on the examination table.

“I am Dr Kowolski,” he said.  “Look straight ahead.”  A bright light was shone in both eyes and Scott winced sharply.  His head was examined, the wound cleaned thoroughly and steri-strips applied.  A wound on his shoulder was similarly dressed, as was one on his leg.  He was prodded and poked as Kowolski assessed the developing bruising, then he picked up a hypodermic needle.

Scott balked.  “What’s that?” he demanded.

“Antibiotics, to fight any infection you may already have picked up.  The Colonel wants you in good health.”

“Huh,” Scott huffed, knowing full well that wouldn’t last long once he refused to give Mendelski the information he was after.

The Colonel arrived just as the doctor finished his inspection and treatment and Scott had downed a litre of water to help with his dehydration and felt exceedingly uncomfortable as the man’s eyes appraised him.

“You may get dressed,” the doctor said to him and Scott slid off the bed to move to his clothes, aware of Mendelski’s eyes following his every move.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious with the close scrutiny, Scott kept his towel in place until he had his underwear on, then hurriedly pulled on his cut top, Nomex flight suit and G-suit for added insulation he’d need in his cell.

“Not pretty,” Mendelski muttered as he watched the Captain get dressed and saw the lithe, lean muscled body.  “Beautiful.”

Scott did his damnest not to blush at the remark and failed.  It was unnerving to be looked at as an item of desire by a man.  He’d have lapped it up if it had been a woman, but a man, and HIM especially made his skin crawl.  He turned away to put his flight boots back on and when he turned back, almost jumped at finding Mendelski standing close.

The Colonel reached out and grabbed his chin, and Scott instinctively swatted his hand away.  “Don’t touch me!” he spat, then groaned as a guard used the butt of his rifle and forced him to his knees.

“Oh, I do like a challenge but, I shall be generous as this is our first meeting and allow you some time to think about your position.  Perhaps I should see if your daddy is willing to pay for your freedom, eh?  We’ll discuss that later.”  He nodded to the two guards.  “Take him back to his cell.”

They nodded, handcuffed him, pulled him to his feet and frog-marched him out,  On reaching his new home again, one of the guards removed the cuffs and the other shoved him through the door so hard, that he ended up crashing into the opposite wall before just about managing to break his fall as he bounced off and crashed to the stone floor.

He lay there for a couple of minutes whilst his eyes adjusted back to the darkness, then crawled over to his mattress and lay down on it, an arm across his eyes as he attempted to slow down his breathing.

Like every soldier, he hoped that he would never have to fall back on his SERE training, but here he was.  Due to his rank and posting, he had undergone Level C SERE training; thinking about it brought back some very painful memories and he was under no illusion that Bereznik would pay any attention to the Geneva Convention.  Stories already abounded about their brutality of foreign prisoners.

And he soon found out, first hand.  They fed him first, if you could call the slop they served him food.  Some tasteless kind of watery stew with stale bread, washed down with a mug of water.

After, he fell into an uneasy doze.  It wasn’t particularly warm in the cell, but his flight suit  and G-suit helped keep some of the chill off and he eventually succumbed, only to suffer a rude awakening as a couple of guards unlocked the door and roughly grabbed him before he was fully awake.  He was handcuffed again and marched to a different room and a sense of dread made itself felt.

He never knew what was going to happen to him next, or when.  They came for him at all different times of the day and night, and were inventive in their methods.  He was stripped, chained, suspended; his toes barely touching the floor, beaten and electrocuted.  They left him in his flight suit when he was strapped to a table and either drugged or waterboarded, so that he would be in soaking in cold, wet clothes afterwards and asked him about the strength of foreign forces, how they operated, the plans they had to invade Bereznik.

Scott would simply reply with his name, rank, service number and date of birth as per convention and the torture would continue until he passed out.

He tried not to make a sound, but he finished up screaming in agony until he lost consciousness from the beatings, or he was practically drowned and spent minutes exhaling water from his lungs afterwards which was an agony in itself as cracked ribs protested at the violent coughing.  Sometimes, they didn’t even give him a chance to recover before they waterboarded him again and again and he was breathing in water straight away, his lungs burning with the agony.

Mendelski was there most of the time and watched with avid attention,  his eyes eagerly absorbing the sight of Scott’s naked body.  He never forced himself on his captive; he wanted the perverse pleasure of hearing him beg for it to relieve his suffering.  But on a number of occasions when Scott had hung naked, suspended by his wrists, the Colonel had run his hands down his body, cupped his buttocks, sucked and licked his nipples; even stroked his cock whilst the guards watched, grinning and making snide remarks, and the Captain could do nothing about it, he was strung up so tightly he was unable to move and afterwards, Mendelski would whisper in his ear.  “If you give yourself to me, I will make this all stop, there are other prisoners I can interrogate for information.”

Each time Scott spat in his face at that remark and suffered as a consequence.

“American, you will be begging me to take you,” he retorted.  “Don’t wait too long though, I like beautiful things, then after I’ve had my fun, I can ransom you off to your father.”  He ran his tongue up Scott’s chest and neck before letting his fingers meander suggestively down his body to grasp his cock whilst the pilot attempted to struggle violently.  All throughout, Mendelski laughed, his eyes drinking in the sight of the lithe, firm body that was fighting not to respond to the stimulation, convinced that his prisoner would come around before too long.  But he was wrong.  When he attempted to kiss him, Scott bit his lip, drawing blood and was beaten senseless as punishment.

Food and water was scarce; winter arrived and he spent his nights shivering, curled up on his mattress, hugging himself in an effort to keep warm.  On top of this, was the mental torture, where he was told how much of a disappointment he must be to the air force, to his family; that no one was coming for him; he would die here alone in his dark cell and no one would care; that he would be forgotten.

Day after day it continued until it blurred.  The odd time when they left him alone to recover a little was even worse and left him on tenterhooks, as he waited for the door to open.

He tried to stay strong, rebellious, but they began to wear him down.  He had developed a cough, his breath rasped in his throat and he was weak.  It was thirteen weeks since his capture and, after he regained consciousness following a particularly brutal session where he couldn’t speak even if he had wanted to because of the gag that almost choked him, he wept as he lay on the cold stone floor of his cell.  He didn’t even have the energy or strength to move to his filthy mattress.  That beating had been punishment for telling them a pack of lies as per his SERE training.

Mendelski had looked at him triumphantly as Scott finally surrendered the information, then returned 36 hours later, furious because he had fed this information up the line and men had been lost as a consequence.  Mendelski had been reprimanded, so he had taken it out on Scott.  That was when his ribs had been actually broken.

He had given them totally untrue information just to get some respite and it had come back and ripped him to pieces.

Mendelski never mentioned ransoming him again after that.

“You know,” a guard said conversationally as he literally dropped him on the floor of his cell causing him to cry out in pain.  “If you let the Colonel ram his cock up that sweet tight ass of yours things would be a lot easier for you.”

Scott was enveloped in a red haze of agony as those words were spoken.  He was ashamed to admit that he’d considered it for about a millisecond, in a moment of weakness but he knew deep down, that the pain from submitting and allowing that to happen would be even worse, and the thought of Mendelski gloating about it kept him quiet.

Somehow Scott never begged for mercy, but he was oh so close.  All he knew now was pain and suffering and he realised in a rare moment of clarity between unconsciousness and wakefulness that he had reached the end of his endurance.

Over the next two weeks, he switched off; he retreated to another place and didn’t even respond when Mendelski touched and groped his body and the Colonel realised he wasn’t going to obtain any useful information from this particular prisoner.  Captain Tracy was now seriously ill, going by the sound of his breathing and his lack of response.  He had clicked his fingers close to his face and the dull blue eyes didn’t even blink, they just stared into nothingness;  there was no resistance, no reaction and he actually stopped breathing the final time they tried waterboarding him.

Pulling him off the table and dropping him on the floor had revived him, but it also displaced one of his broken ribs, causing it to lay against a lung.  How it had not punctured the pleura was anyone’s guess; if it had done so, he would probably have died shortly after as air filled the cavity and squeezed his heart so that it stopped.  The fall had also broken his right femur.  How long Scott would survive now was anyone’s guess.

The guards had gently—well, gentle compared to how they had treated him previously although it still hurt—placed him on his mattress and left him.  That had been his last interrogation; they didn’t come for him any more after that; Mendelski knew it would be waste of time.

No medical treatment was offered, but there was one guard who at least placed his food and water within easy reach, so he did get one meagre meal a day, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to find the strength to eat it.  The guard did attempt to get some of it into him and Scott thanked him with his eyes and gave him a feeble nod.

“I’m sorry,” the guard whispered,  “We’re not all monsters, Captain.  Please remember that.”  He gripped his shoulder gently, then stood up and left.  Scott didn’t see him again.

The final time the Colonel had visited him in his cell and shone a bright light onto his bruised and battered body he saw his prisoner was shivering, but was also burning up and he realised it wouldn’t be long now.  It was a waste.  Another young man that had been full of life and vitality; a casualty of war.

“You have been a brave and foolish young man, Captain Tracy,” Mendelski said softly, stroking his hair, “but I salute your loyalty.  Your allied forces are on their way, but I doubt you will live long enough to see their arrival.  I honestly expected you to come crawling to me but you never did.  As I told you, I admire beauty; I would have taken good care of you, if only you had given yourself to me.  What a waste.  Pity.  Now I will take my leave of you.  Farewell.”  He straightened up and offered him a formal salute.  Mendelski would never admit it, but he admired Scott and could not bring himself to order his execution by the guards.  Instead, he planned to do it himself and went as far as drawing his pistol, loading a shot into the chamber and pointing it at his head, but found his could not pull the trigger.  His hand wavered as his finger tightened on it, but as it did so, his prisoner partly opened his eyes and managed to stare unwaveringly at him; his breathing rattling painfully in his chest.

The pistol remained pointing at Scott’s head and he continued to stare through half open eyes, unblinking, each breath sounding like it was going to be his last.  Mendelski stared back at him, then took a deep breath and clicked the safety on as he lowered his weapon.

“You are a stubborn man, Captain Tracy.  Will you have the tenacity to hang on until your rescuers get here?”

In his delirium, Scott had heard the words.  He knew he was seriously ill; dying, for he no longer felt the cold or the damp and he began to drift.  His brothers’ images flashed before him, then faded, as did his father’s and tears crept down his face.

I’m sorry, he thought.  I tried, dad.  I tried so hard, but I can’t… can’t take it… anymore…  John… keep watching… the stars… Virg… my best friend… sorry I’m… leaving you… Gordy… you still… haven’t… grown gills… Allie… the best… of us.  Grandma… look after them… Kayo…guard them… l – love you all… please… please don’t… don’t forget… me… “Pl – please…”

Mendelski heard what he thought was a single worded plea to be released from his suffering and watched as Scott’s eyes drifted closed.  Taking another deep breath, the Colonel flicked the safety off the pistol, raised it and fired.

In the small cell, the sound was deafening.  Scott’s body twitched, but that was all.  The Colonel looked down at him, flicked the safety back on, put the weapon in its holster, turned and left.

o0o0o0o

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I finished it sooner than expected. The background is purposefully blurry so as not to distract from the central characters. Enjoy!!

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So, Virgil and Scott are complete, just need to put the background in!!! Just thought I'd give you all a tease!!!!

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The Secret Diary of Scott Carpenter Tracy

Earlier chapters may be found on AO3 here.

More angst. Scott's getting out of hospital... and it's the funeral...

Chapter 3 – April 25th 2051

A nurse retrieved the tablet I threw across the room a number of days ago.  They’re tougher than I gave them credit for… it didn’t break.  Pity.  Bet if I hadn’t wanted it to break it would have.  What’s that… Murphy’s Law or something?

Didn’t feel like writing anything.  Didn’t feel like doing anything actually.  Just lying in bed staring up at the white ceiling was enough for me, but the doctor’s won’t let me.  They force me to get up, force me to drink and keep going on about DVT whatever that is.

Mr Jenkinson turned up again.  He doesn’t give up, encouraging me to talk about what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking.  I diverted him and asked what DVT was and he told me.  By not moving and drinking enough could cause a blood clot which could move and cause me to have a heart attack or a stroke.  If he was trying to scare me, he succeeded.  That was when I realised I actually didn’t want to die, but live.  I have four brothers to look after, I can’t desert them, so I’ve decided to make the effort to get better, at least physically.  Don’t know about mentally.  I think I’m broken… we’re all broken.

Dad came to visit on the 20th.  He was more composed and said I was beginning to look better.  He told me little Allie is being discharged today, and if I continue to improve I’ll be out tomorrow.  The dining room is being adapted for me as I won’t be able to get up and down the stairs.  It’ll have a bed in it.  I don’t know how I feel about it all.  I’m going home, but it will no longer feel complete.

He then told me that the funerals will be on the 25th April.  The service will be at the ranch and Mom and Grandpa will be laid to rest near the old apple tree they both loved, rather than in the town cemetery, so they will always be near family.

Finally got to see Gordon and little Allie.  They both gave me a hug, Gordon was subdued, but there were no tears.  I guess he’s coming to terms with the fact that mom won’t be coming back.  Allie, on the other hand, hasn’t.  He didn’t want to let go of me and started screaming when dad took him from me.  It was heartbreaking.  I did my best to calm him down, but he continued to scream my name as dad left with him and Gordon.  I clamped down on my feelings, but it brought a sharp pain to my chest as I fought to hold everything in.  I honestly don’t think I can do this… but somehow, I must…

o0o

I did get home on the 21st.  It was overwhelming.  When I looked at the barn, all I could see was Grandpa.  I imagined I saw him coming out, in his overalls, wiping his oily hands on an old cloth.  I nearly choked on my emotions, and when dad got me into the house, all I could see was Mom.  The piano, the ornaments, the pictures on the wall, the smell of her favourite perfume.

The dining room table and chairs had been removed from the room, and a small single bed installed, along with some free standing hanging for some clothes for me, and one of the drawers of the dresser had been emptied and underwear and tops put in.  I hated it!

My brothers were all pleased to see me and, once again, Alan wouldn’t leave my side, or my lap.  I was so pleased to see them all.  Virgil came back when I was alone for once, looking nervous.

“I… I hope you don’t mind,” he said.  “I know we’re not supposed to go into your bedroom without an invite, but I wanted to bring you this… I hope it’s all right.”

He held out his hand to reveal a little blue plane.  It was only about three or four inches long, and it was different shades of blue and… most importantly, it had been knitted for me by… Mom.  Oh God, how I wanted to cry at that point, but I can’t, I’m the strong one, but my hand shook as I took it from Virgil.

“I thought… maybe… it might make you feel a bit better?” he said tentatively.

I gave him a one-armed hug to show him that he’d done good.  As long as I had my little plane, Mom would be with me.

I had to keep repeating that thought lots of times though, up to the funeral.  It washed over me.  It was like I was floating above and looking down on it.  I couldn’t wear my suit, so dad bought me some black sweatpants and a black zip-up hoodie to wear instead of a shirt and jacket.  I just wore a t-shirt.  It felt so disrespectful, but I couldn’t get my suit on over my casts.  As it was, most of me was hidden under a thick blanket because it was a cold day.

My brothers were all crying; but I didn’t shed a tear; I had none; it was like they had dried up completely.  I just sat in my wheelchair as the service was carried out.  Everyone was there, and I mean everyone from the town; to pay their respects.  They did Mom and Grandpa proud.  Dad wheeled me up to the two coffins after they were lowered into the ground and held a pot of dirt close to me so I could throw a handful over them.  It was a bit difficult as I had to do it left handed, plus Allie was in my lap and refused to move, but I managed it.

After the ceremony, people were invited back.  Because there were so many in attendance, we moved the food and chairs to the barn so we could accommodate everyone.  Even then it was pretty crowded, which John absolutely hated, so Virgil took care of him.

Uncle Lee and Aunt Val both attended and looked after dad who appeared to be having a rough time.  Grandma was very stoic, but quiet.  She kept an eye on us kids, gave people tentative smiles that didn’t reach her eyes and she suddenly looked much older and more frail.  I wanted to give her a hug because she looked like she really needed it, but I couldn’t get close to her because of all the other people.  She caught me looking at her a few times and finally nodded and gave me a small smile to say she was coping… just.

The day seemed to stretch on forever, but finally people started to leave, until it was just us left.  Everyone was exhausted and we all went to bed early, apart from dad, who sat in the lounge, drinking.

I think he forgot I was in the dining room because as I lay in my bed, I could hear him crying.  I didn’t know what to do… if I should go to him, or pretend I was asleep.  But then I heard a crash of glass breaking and knew I had to investigate, so I struggled into my wheelchair and with difficulty, managed to manoeuvre it into the lounge.

The room reeked of booze, and in the dim lighting I could see the broken glass of a whisky bottle lying in the hearth and on the wooden floor in front of it, along with some of the fluid.  Dad was sitting on the sofa, head in his hands, crying.  I’d seen him in tears before; tears of happiness and joy when each of my brothers were born, but I’d never seen him like this.

“D – Dad?” I asked tentatively.  “Dad?”

His head jerked up and he savagely wiped his eyes before turning to me.  “You should be asleep in bed,” he said, his voice wavering.  “It’s been a long day.”

“Dad… can I help?”  I dared to wheel myself closer to him.

That’s when I think I actually broke my Dad, because in the next second, he threw himself down on the floor in front of me and hugged me so tight it made me wince, as he sobbed into my shoulder.  I didn’t know what to do.  Dad was so strong, nothing shook him or frightened him, but this…

Nervously I put my arms around him and held him.  I don’t know how many minutes passed before I heard him mumble.

“I – I don’t know what I’m going to do without your mother… she was my everything… five boys… five fine boys… how will I manage?”

I swallowed.  “I’ll – I’ll help you, Dad,” I said softly.

He drew back and looked at me.  “Scotty,” he said, as he ran his fingers through my hair.  “I’m going to need all the help I can get.  I need you to step up, son; help me look after your brothers.  I need to work, the ensure you can all have a home, stay safe, but I can’t do it alone.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so, Dad.”

“You’re my first born, the eldest.  I’m sorry I have to ask you to grow up earlier than you should.  Do you think you could do that for me, son?”

I nodded firmly.  “I can do it, dad, and I’ll do even better once I’m healed.”

He hugged me again then, and once more sobbed on my shoulder before drawing back again.

“You’re a good boy, Scotty.”  He kissed my forehead.  “Now, go back to bed.  Do you need a hand?”

“No, I’ll be all right.  Dad… you should go to bed too.  I’ll clean up the mess.”

Dad shook his head.  “I’ll clean up.  I made it.  Go on now.”

He stroked my head.

“It’s going to be difficult these first couple of months, until we all get used to the new normal,” Dad continued.

“We’ll get through it, Dad.  We’re Tracys.”

He gave me a tiny smile as I repeated those two words that he often offered when things got tough.  “Yes, we are.  Go on, back to bed.”

I nodded and again, with some difficulty, wheeled myself back to my temporary bedroom and manoeuvred myself back into bed, but it took me some time before I dozed off.  Dad was such a strong man mentally and yet, he seemed as broken—if not more so—than the rest of us.  I wished I could cry because my chest was feeling tight, but the tears just won’t come.  Mom, I miss you so much… please watch over us… please…

o0o0o0o

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I put in a concerted effort and got John finished... and here he is!!