Title: The Five Mother Hens of Virgil Tracy
Summary: Poor Virgil gets sick. And what's worse than one mother hen? Five.
Disclaimer: As much as I wish I could lay claim to them, I can't. The Thunderbirds and those gorgeous Tracy brothers belong to others.
A/N: Title is an odd take on "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse" Don't ask me how they connect, I'm really random that way. And I must mention, I love the 3rd person omniscient perspective. This started out as a dramedy, but went straight into drama. Comes from wanting to torture poor Virgil as much as I can.
Beep, beep, beep…
Virgil groaned when he heard his alarm clock go off. He just wanted to keep sleeping. But the alarm wasn't going to shut up on its own, so he made the vile contraption shut up by throwing it across the room. Then he rolled over, pulled the comforter up over his shoulders and went back to sleep. He knew he had to get up for training, it was something their father insisted on, but a few extra minutes wouldn't hurt…
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Virgil groaned again, looking around and seeing his alarm clock in pieces on the floor. The banging subsided, so he laid back down and pulled the comforter over his head. He was sound asleep when the door opened a few minutes later, so he was caught unaware when the comforter was suddenly stripped off of him.
He blinked his eyes a few times and saw Scott standing above him, his comforter in his eldest brother's fists.
"Know what time it is?" Scott asked.
Virgil shook his head, then pointed to the alarm clock on the floor. He reached for his blanket, but Scott wasn't letting him have it back.
"Dad wants to know why you aren't down for training…" Scott began, but stopped.
Scott was just noticing why Virgil hadn't made an appearance yet, why he hadn't answered his communicator, why he was shivering and why he had yet to say a word.
"Jesus, Virge! I'm so sorry!" Scott said, throwing the comforter back onto his brother, who immediately wrapped himself in it.
Once Virgil settled himself, Scott sat on the side of the bed and placed a hand on his brother's forehead. He'd already figured that Virgil was sick, and that act proved it. His brother's face was flushed with fever.
"I'll tell dad you're sick. Then I'll bring some water, some breakfast and a thermometer."
"No breakfast," Virgil muttered.
Scott frowned, but didn't argue. "I'll be back in a minute."
Scott quietly went out the door, shutting it behind him. He then went downstairs, cursing himself for not immediately seeing that his brother was ill. He found his father with Brains, Gordon and Alan in the training room.
"Virgil's out for the count," Scott reported, explaining what happened in Virgil's bedroom.
Jeff frowned; he didn't like the suddenness of his son's illness. It wasn't about International Rescue being a man short, he'd fill in for his son, but when Virgil got sick, it took a while for him to get well again.
"I told him I'd be back, although he's probably fast asleep already."
"I'll go with you," Jeff said, and Scott nodded.
On their way, they stopped in the infirmary and picked up a thermometer and some flu medicine that they kept on hand. As they quickly learned, although they lived on a tropical island, they still contracted colds and flues from when they went on rescues. Scott also stopped in the kitchen, filling a glass with water. Jeff led the way to Virgil's room and knocked softly. As expected, there was no answer. So he slowly opened the door, peering inside to find his son sleeping soundly. As Jeff entered the room, with Scott only a couple steps behind him, he noticed how Virgil had the comforter pulled up past his chin to where his lips were barely visible. He put a hand on his son's face, feeling the warmth radiating from a body he knew felt cold.
"Virgil?" Jeff whispered. "Virgil, I need you to wake for a minute."
Virgil's eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times before registering that his father was present.
"Hi dad," he whispered.
"Hey, son. Scott and I brought you some things. But first I want to take your temperature."
Virgil moved about so that he was sitting up, the blanket still wrapped around his body. Jeff handed him the thermometer, and Virgil put it in his mouth. Virgil's eyes started to get heavy and he started to lie back down to go back to sleep.
"Not quite yet," Scott said, sitting on the bed next to his brother. "Just a minute, ok?"
Virgil leaned into his brother, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Jeff saw that his son's eyes were closing again, and motioned to Scott.
"C'mon, Virge. Give us a minute and you can go back to sleep," he said, lightly patting his brother's cheek in an effort to wake him a little more.
Virgil managed to keep his eyes open, but did no more than that. When the thermometer beeped, Jeff took it and glanced, frowning.
"You, my son, have quite a fever. So, needless to say, you're not going anywhere. I'll fill in for you if any rescue calls come in," Jeff said, putting the thermometer on Virgil's dresser since they would be using it again.
"Dad, could you get the medicine and the water?" Scott asked, pointing to the desk where both items lay.
Jeff nodded, grabbing them and going back to his son's bedside. "I want you to take these, hopefully they'll help you feel a little better."
Virgil worked his hands free of his blanket with Scott's help, then held out a hand so Jeff could place two tablets in the palm. Virgil placed those in his mouth, and then Jeff handed him the glass of water. Virgil held it with both shaky hands and sipped carefully. He tilted his head back so the tablets and water could make it down his sore throat easier.
"You need anything?" Scott asked, feeling his brother shake his head against his chest.
"We'll be in periodically to check on you. So if you need anything, let one of us know. I want you to stay in bed for the time being."
Virgil nodded, and Scott stood up so that Virgil could lie back down. Once that Scott and Jeff saw that Virgil was settled and as comfortable as possible, they left the room and headed down the hallway.
"The flu?" Scott asked, and Jeff nodded.
"And if he doesn't feel well now, it'll only get worse before he gets any better," Jeff said grimly, knowing his middle child's affinity for when he gets sick, he really gets sick.