Title: Desperate Reparations
25 May 2019
Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS
Summary: Fingers stabbed at dark, dank hair. "In here. He's in here." The fingers shifted to Virgil's bare chest and bashed at his breastbone. "And here. And Scott, he hurts so much."
Word count: 1165
Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo, Wing!fic, not my usual fare.
Author's note: This is part three. I wrote part one, Lady Razorsharp wrote part two - you can find it on her profile – 'Lost wings'. This is part three. They are all standalone fics, kinda, but interconnected. I hope you enjoy this blatant self indulgence.
Disclaimer: Mine? You've got to be kidding. Money? Don't have any, don't bother.
Virgil disappeared into his workshop.
Scott was caught up with attending to John, but Kay tried to follow her lover and was expelled.
Not in so many words or even gestures, but he wasn't talking. His entire focus narrowed in on his project and everything else was ignored. The only person he would speak to was Brains, and that was in a consultative capacity. He was polite, but curt, sharp in his need for information and for what little he said, he let little out.
Grandma stepped in when Kay failed, but with even less success. The man was driven and he was driving himself into the ground. Grandma tried to get him to eat, but he would only nibble, distracted by the tools in his hands, food left cold and discarded.
While John slowly healed, Virgil pushed himself to the edge.
Scott was eventually cornered by Kay and his grandmother, and a few choice words sent him down to the hangers to drag his brother out.
What he found there broke his heart.
Virgil had rearranged and repurposed his workshop for one thing and one thing alone. A huge table spanned the large room's entire length and on it were feathers.
Hundreds of them.
Each placed precisely in order, laid out to create a massive, pale silver, pair of wings.
For a moment, Scott stood there in awe. The craftsmanship was stunning. Each feather had the finest detail, enough to be the real thing.
Reaching out to touch one of the flight feathers, his fingers brushed an edge. Sudden pain was the immediate result. He yanked his hand back and found fine lacerations slashed through his fingerprints.
The feathers were finely crafted metal and razor sharp.
A breeze from Thunderbird Two's hangar stirred them and he hurried to shut the door.
The room fell into total silence.
The unassembled wings were the only statement in the room.
Until he heard a groan from the doorway at the far end. It was followed by a gasp.
Several quick strides had him through the door and into Virgil's office only to find the room full of black feathers, his brother's wingspan extended as far as it could in the smaller room. Virgil was leaning against his desk, his eyes closed, a single black feather in his hand.
The quill of the feather was red with blood.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
His brother startled, the feather falling from his fingers. It left a red smear on the linoleum where it landed. "Scott? What?"
Virgil appeared almost dazed, his face drawn and pale.
Scott stepped closer, but his brother bent to retrieve the feather on the floor and Scott found himself dodging black flight feathers. "Virgil!"
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" The statement was defiance itself, but it was said with a tremor and his brother's baritone was barely there. He was fumbling with the feather, placing it inside a machine. Closing the lid, Virgil hit a combination of buttons and the feather was enveloped in light.
Scott frowned, recalling the silver feathers behind him. "Are you pulling your own feathers to make new?"
"Some of them. Need the data."
The statement was simple and cast off with little care, but staring at his brother's wings he could suddenly see some crucial gaps. "My god."
"Don't worry. They'll grow back."
"Virgil-" He reached out and his fingers inadvertently encountered stiff primaries. The wing under his hand flinched hard and folded away from him, the engineer stumbling as his weight shifted. The pain on his face was plain to see.
Scott's throat grew tight. "What have you done?"
"What I had to do." With a sharp grimace and a grunt, Virgil folded his wings awkwardly and let them go. Black shifted into his skin, his mark wrapping around his now bare back and biceps.
Scott made it to his brother's side just as his legs gave out.
Virgil swore as he folded, struggling to pull himself back up, his grip on the edge of the desk white knuckled. Scott grabbed his hand and wrenched it from its hold, forcing Virgil's weight into his arms and lowering him to sit on the floor.
His hand brushed across his brother's back and came back smeared red.
A panicked examination of the man's mark revealed the damage that had been done. Crucial lines were sketched in red instead of black, some were missing, and the outline of his right forewing was blurred, the skin inflamed.
"Why?" The word was forced from him in horror.
"Because I have to." Virgil attempted to climb to his feet.
Scott held him down. Easily.
Finally, Virgil turned to look at him, brown eyes red rimmed, voice barely a whisper.
"Because I can hear him"
A blink. "Hear him?"
Virgil's head dropped. "He's hurting so much. It's in my bones. I have to fix this. Make it better. Help him." He made another attempt to get up. Scott just held him tighter.
"How can you hear him? John's in the infirmary. You're down here. Not possible."
Fingers stabbed at dark, dank hair. "In here. He's in here." The fingers shifted to Virgil's bare chest and bashed at his breastbone. "And here. And Scott, he hurts so much." His face crumpled, and an incoherent sound of pain passed his lips before Virgil frowned and once again attempted to get up.
"I have to-"
"Stay down!" It was rare that Scott could out-muscle his younger brother. The fact he was having little trouble doing it now was setting off more and more alarm bells.
A stab at his comms. "Kayo, Gordon. Meet me in Virgil's workshop. Bring a medkit and a stretcher."
Virgil struggled against his arms again, but he refused to let him go. By the time Kayo burst into the room, Virgil was reduced to hoarse expletives.
Scott's lips thinned and, as Gordon skidded through the door, a few choice words sketched out exactly what Virgil had been doing to himself.
Kayo froze for a whole second of obvious horror before she was examining her lover's back and spitting her own string of expletives, her worry blatant.
Virgil wilted in his arms.
Gordon's response was strange.
He clammed up, simply moving to his brother's side and placing his hand on a bare patch of shoulder. Brown eyes met brown eyes and something passed between them before Virgil looked down and away.
Gordon's fingers squeezed gently.
Virgil did as he was told after that. Scott and Gordon bundled him onto a hover stretcher and the man curled up on his side, his gaze distant and sad.
Gordon and Kayo led the stretcher out of the room and for a moment Scott was left there by himself.
His eyes landed on a handful of black feathers discarded on the counter.
A swallow that hurt and he strode from the room, hurrying to catch up.