Well, flippin' heck! Didn't that episode just whack it right out the park?! I'm still a gibbering wreck - and a snuffly one, too. Come down with a stinking cold. But with the help of my meds, jugfuls of lemon and honey, some special recipe porridge, and my own whumping Angst!Bunnies (plus the odd bit of medicinal chocolate), here's my follow up to the truly brilliant Recharge.

Enjoy!

When The Bough Breaks

Warmth. That was his first, coherent awareness. Warmth, and comfort. Human comfort. Strong but gentle arms, wrapped tightly around him. Holding him so gently closer as Scott flailed against them in wild, desperate grief.

"No! No, let - let me go, I've - I've got to get... to get to him, he's... oh God, no... no... nooooooo!"

Tightening arms, saving him from the same, unthinkable fate. Quelling his frantic struggles.

Then a voice. An unmistakeable, impossible voice.

"Whoa, Scooter... easy now, I've got you... it's okay, you've just been dreaming... it's okay, you're waking up now... you're safe now... we're all safe..."

Virgil?

Virgil? Saying he was safe? But - no. No, he couldn't be. He'd just seen him. Watched him. Falling, bloodied and broken, into that crevasse.

Falling to certain death, all because of him, his reckless stupidity, and -

"Shhh, it's okay... it's okay, Scott, I'm right here... easy now, it's all right, I'm here... I'm right here..."

Virgil. His arms. His voice. His heartbeat.

Still struggling to believe it, Scott stared up at him - still too trapped in his nightmare for his brother's voice to reach him. But then more words pitched their fight against the horrors of his imagination.

"It's okay, Scott... we're safe... we're all safe."

Three words made its vital breakthrough.

We're all safe.

One finally brought him back to reality. Living, breathing reality.

All.

Glancing around him, Scott took in more, equally comforting sights. The den, softly lit against the deep darkness of night. Its ring of couches, including the one that had become his makeshift bed. Its pillow of red and black plaid, its gently steady heartbeat still beating against his cheek. And then... eyes. Golden brown eyes.

Eyes frozen in death, now somehow coming back to life. Like a blanket of honey and hot chocolate - wrapping him into their own, calming warmth.

Exhausted - yes. Worried - yes. But living eyes, lighting up like nothing on Earth as Virgil smiled down at him. Welcomed him back with another hug that refused to let him sit up, let alone let him go.

"No, Scott, keep still... it's okay, just rest easy... I've got you..."

Cocooned in this purest comfort, Scott lay gratefully back again. Took these moments to regain his composure. To just let himself be held. Just let himself be.

His last memory had been... John. Yes, John. Calling in, with yet another rescue. Gordon's voice, little more than a blur, answering it. Taking charge, taking command.

Shouldering its loads, instead of him.

Laying his life on the line, and Alan's too, while he had slept, and -

- dreamed.

Screamed.

Screamed silently within them, while he watched his brother die.

Even as that living, breathing brother continued to hold him, Scott still had to know. Still had to hear those words again.

"G - Gords? Allie?"

He wasn't half through asking for it before it came. The answer he had to hear. Words that made him close his eyes again, in overwhelming relief.

"They're fine too, Scott... they got home about twenty minutes ago, and went straight to bed... both out for the count by the time I left them."

Still watching him, it was Virgil's turn to frown. It was a long running joke between them, that his notoriously 'up and at 'em' brother could hear a pin drop back on the mainland. Now, though, he was too worried to fully enjoy it. Through the roar of throttling engines, and the chatter of tired but triumphant brothers, Scott hadn't batted an eyelid.

Instead, he'd slept on. A measure of just how exhausted he'd been, that he'd left the 'tucking-in-the-tinies' routine to Smother Brother Two.

Sprawled on the couch, he hadn't even twitched. Just mumbled the vaguest thanks for two, heavily booted feet lifting off his lap. Then he'd keeled onto his side, snugging the still warm cushion that Virgil had left behind as he'd settled back to sleep.

Watching him, Virgil had smiled - finding the sight as pricelessly funny as his brothers. Their fearless leader, trying to curl his over-long body into a space that was just far too small for it. But for him at least, that amusement hadn't lasted for long. While he'd nudged two 'Aww, Virgil!' brothers to their rooms, those stirrings and mutterings had turned into something much more serious.

He'd left Scott calm and quiet, curled up into his dreams. Living through them, even smiling for a while - until they'd pulled him into a world of unthinkable horrors. Woken him into a terrified scream.

"Virgil! Oh, God, no! Nooooooooo!"

A cry of pure terror, that had brought his brother back into the den at a full-stride run. And the terror he'd seen on his face. God, that would haunt his own dreams for sure tonight. Unless, of course, they both talked out its cause.

First, though, he had to test the waters. Watch and see if his brother was ready yet, to face it. So yes, it was a real relief when he felt Scott shifting against him. With some ever gentle help, he then sat up, rubbing his eyes, as if to erase the horrors they'd just seen. Glanced once more around him, thankfully calmer now, but still needing to know that his brothers - all of his brothers - were really safe.

"And they're... they're both okay?"

"Yes, Scott, they're fine... snoring so hard, they're almost blowing out their windows."

Another favourite joke, that should have made both of them smile. From the way Scott just nodded again, though, it hadn't quite worked. Instead, it brought another frown onto Virgil's face, as he studied his brother's.

Its exhaustion alone spoke volumes, and... damn it, this was bad. Those ever watchful alarm bells were really ringing now.

Something that should have cheered him up had turned into an all too familiar round of 'what if's?' and 'might-have-beens.' Yet another assessment of his brother's physical and mental state, and... well, yes. After years of practice, Virgil had that ability down to a fine art. So when he saw Scott's head drop into a shake of silent despair, he knew what was coming. His arms were back around his brother's shoulders before he took his next breath.

"It's okay, Scott... it's over, and it's okay..."

Words of calming reassurance, spoken from the deepest reaches of his heart. Yet still they sounded so hollow, even to him. From the way Scott looked at him, out of eyes so bleak, and haunted, so full of doubts and fears, they hadn't quite made it either. And when he finally spoke, in voice so soft and quiet, it was all Virgil could do not to wince at his own sense of failure.

"No, Virg... no, it might be over, but it's not okay."

Glancing down at his hands, Scott then curled them into fists. Rested them on his knees, as if to stop the tremors that ran through them. Taking a deep breath, he had to quickly take another. His next words barely made it above a whisper.

"I'm not okay."

Oh, yes. Yes, that much was obvious. Scott Carpenter Tracy was far from okay. But the fact that he'd just admitted it, not just to himself, but to his brother too - well, yes, that gave Virgil everything he needed to take this first, precious step, and start putting him back together again.

Through a blur of red and black, Scott felt himself being held even tighter. An innately gentle hand rubbed circles around his back. Soothed away his exhaustion, while coaxing out more of his thoroughly stricken conscience.

"Damn it, Virgil... when did I change from being your big brother into a damn dictator?"

Well, that was - different. A curveball to beat 'em all, that caught Virgil completely off guard. Before he could react to it, though, Scott rose to his feet and started to pace around the table - the length of each stride perfectly matching the rising pitch in his voice.

"You, and John, and Gordon, and Allie, you're - you're all looking to me to lead you... guide you, look out for you, to just... just keep you all safe... yet time after time after time, Virgil, I just... just forget all of that, it's... it's like this other version of me, taking me over... pushing me into decisions and actions that put all of us at risk, and... damn it, Virgil, what right do I have to do that? If I want to push my limits and risk my own neck, then fine, that's my choice, but... but I can't ask you, or John, or Gordy, or Alan, to do the same, and... God, Virgil, in any other organization, I'd be out the door by now..."

No room for argument there, either, except - well, for those metaphorical doors, they had windows instead. Real ones, leading to the sun-deck outside. And one hell of an indicator to show how much he'd moved around.

Virgil, of course, was still on the couch, quietly watching him. Giving him the space and freedom he needed, to stride it all out of his system. And against the gratitude he'd always feel for such empathy... yes, this lingering ache in his legs was an even greater incentive to get back to him now. Back to the place of greater comfort where they'd both prefer to be.

Letting himself smile at the thought, Scott then stopped carving his feet into the floorboards, and let them carry him back to their couch. Funny, too, that with so much room on it for them both, that Virgil should still smoosh right up to him, and fold him into another, gladly accepted hug.

Still kinda nice, though. Enough of a comfort for him to smile back, and... well, damn it, even try to crack a joke for him too.

"Yeah, I'd be gone for sure, Virg... most likely in the nearest psych ward."

Just minutes ago, Virgil had been worried enough to agree with him. To take him at his totally serious word. Instead, as he watched him lean forward to breathe more deeply, he started to smile. Beyond the dark humour, he'd heard and seen more precious signs. That change in Scott's tone, matching those on his face.

Not the voice of a dictator. Not the 'my-way-or-no-way' petulance he'd heard in that tent. Or the one he'd heard screaming him out of his dreams. No, this was the voice of his eldest brother. Softer, calmer. Recognizing his own weaknesses, and finding the courage to admit to them.

"But this isn't any other organization, Virg... this is International Rescue... the best emergency response team in the world, and... yeah, Virg, there's no exit door here... the job of leading it is mine now... and I've got to learn to do it better, before... well, the worst of all our nightmares start to come true."

Now it was Virgil's turn to stare. Okay, so this was just what he'd hoped to hear, but even so... well, damn. If this priceless moment didn't merit the mother of brother-hugs. Except, of course, that his arm was already wrapped around Scott's shoulders.

Still, if there was one thing he'd perfected through the years, it was the art of a one-armed hug. And the gratitude he saw for it, in now thankfully brightening eyes? Yes, that meant more to him than any number of words. More than the quiet afterthought that eventually followed.

"I - I know as the eldest, I have to take Dad's place, but... God, Virgil, it's days like these when I have to ask myself if I'm the right person to do it... all those times when you've had to risk your life to save mine, or just stopped me from doing something inexcusably stupid... so many times I've compared my actions to yours, Virg, and..."

"...you think I'd do the job any better?"

A fair and reasonable question. Answered just as he'd hoped with more, healing honesty.

"The way you did it today? Keeping Gordon and Alan behind, so they at least could get some rest? Plotting that course? Pulling MAX out of that crevasse? Doing everything that I should have done, to keep both of us safe? To stop us both from get-"

Aaaand - there it was. The pause. The silence. The complete devastation on Scott's face, that told Virgil all he had to know. Confirming what he'd already guessed had caused his brother's nightmare. And the fact that Scott was starting to face it now - yes, another precious step forward. Another part of this personal battle, that he'd faced alone in his dreams, but was never going to face alone here, as he struggled to re-live it.

"It wasn't MAX that fell down that crevasse, Virg, it... it was you... I ordered you to follow my route, even though you'd warned me about breaks in the ice... trying to catch up with me, your Pod crashed... you - you were trying to fix it, then this crack just opened up beneath you, and... and all I could do was stand there, and watch you..."

Die.

A thought as unthinkable in his dreams as it was in reality. The same reality that now took hold of his shoulders. That shook them, ever so gently, until he raised his head again, to meet his brother's eyes.

"But it didn't happen that way, Scott... yes, the Pod did crash... and yes, MAX did go down that crevasse... but not because of you, Scott... he was scouting ahead of us, remember? And he just fell through a gap that his sensors couldn't pick up in time."

Pausing to let that crucial point sink in, Virgil kept his eyes trained on Scott's face. Watching for the clouds to leave his brother's eyes, before adding what he still had to say to start turning them back to perfect blue.

"That's how it happened, Scott... that's what happened for real out there... not how your worst fears made you remember it."

Another fair and irrefutable point. One which, to his relief, Scott was already agreeing with as he ran a thankfully steadier hand through his hair.

"I know that, Virg... I know all of that... at least, I can see it now, but... God, Virgil, it - it was just so real! I haven't dreamed anything like that since..."

"...Dad went missing... and we spent the best part of a week trying to find him..." Virgil finished for him, his voice turning even quieter as more reasons for his brother's nightmares slid into place.

And yes, he was silently kicking himself now, for not working it out sooner. Throughout the longest week of their lives, Scott had led every search. Pushed himself to his limits, then dangerously and desperately beyond them, as they'd all struggled to face an unbearable truth.

Their father was gone. Inexplicably - gone. And it had fallen to his eldest son to try and pick up the pieces. To keep them all going, at an untold cost to himself.

And now it was happening again. Against this onslaught of non stop call-outs, he was pushing himself too far. Too hard. Too damn hard to see it for himself, and... well, just as he'd done throughout their lives, time for the family peacemaker to help him see reason. To tell him to stop.

"And just as you were then, Scott, you're wiped out. We've had one hell of a week, every one of us, but... both of us know, Scott, you can't go on like this. You have got to stop, or at least slow down... give yourself a break, just trust us to take the lead for a while, or... well, these nightmares won't just happen in your sleep any more... they'll happen for real."

Every word of this crucial warning had been spoken with the utmost gentleness. As calm and quiet, as firm as it had to be. Yet even when he saw Scott nod, saw the relief and gratitude for such forgiving support, Virgil knew he had to keep going. Just one more, vital point.

"Scott, you're facing more stress, and pressure, and God knows what else, that any of us should allow you to deal with... because you can't do it alone, Scooter... you just can't... and you should never feel as if you need to... you should never take it as any kind of weakness to let us help you... to just take some of this damn load off your shoulders, because... we're family, Scott... ahead of everything else... Tracy Industries, the GDF, even IR... we're family... when any one of us needs help, you can bet the rest of us, every single one of us, will be there... ready to do whatever has to be done... and if you think you'll ever lose our respect for just letting us help you, then... well, I can answer for all of us, Scott... you won't... ever."

Damn, if he'd ever say so himself, that had been a humdinger. Listened to in silence, and with complete, if startled, attention. So yes, if it had ever existed in the first place, his ego might just have been a touch deflated by Scott's response.

"I know, Virg... I know that too, and... yes, I know I've got to do this... I've got to slow down, stop putting myself and the rest of you through this, but... well, losing your respect isn't the only issue here."

It wasn't? Maybe it was his own tiredness creeping up on him, but Virgil couldn't work that one out at all. Luckily, he now had a brother whose head was sufficiently clear enough to spell it out. Stun him once more, with a humdinger of his own.

"What about my humanity? You heard me in that tent, Virg... talking about you, and John... Gords, and Allie, like you're all some kind of robots... you said it yourself, you're not machines... you're my brothers... and what about MAX? Damn it, I couldn't even remember how our real robot got his name, and... hey, what's so funny?"

Yeah, he really wanted to know why Virgil was smiling like that. As soon as he started to explain himself, though, Scott began to smile too.

"You didn't even hear yourself say it, did you? You referred to MAX as a 'he'. 'He', Scott... not 'it.' Just as you've always done. If you really were such a heartless bastard, do you really think you'd have done that?"

In his eyes, of course, the answer to that was obvious. But Virgil knew it was Scott who had to believe it - just as he knew that another, gentle point would surely clear all those lingering doubts and fears away.

"Scott, you're as human now as you've always been... as you always will be... and yes, you've got a hell of a lot on your plate right now, that could threaten that... in taking Dad's place until we find him, you've got one hell of a load on your shoulders, that I can only ever partly appreciate."

Yeah, wasn't that the truth? More than ever now, more than any other time when he'd had to experience it for himself, Virgil understood that burden's demands. The pure elation when everything went right. The split second decisions, and actions, and reactions, to make and take when things went wrong.

For the first time in too long a time, he knew what his brother had to go through. Put himself through, day in, day out. Why he had to push himself, just to keep going.

Why he needed a best friend, as well as a brother, to tell him when such devotion to duty turned to unacceptable, unnecessary risk.

"But what you need to remember, Scott, is that you don't need to carry it alone... just as you don't need to look at every situation we come up against, and wonder if Dad would handle it the same as you do, because... well, you're your own man, Scott... you're every bit as natural a leader as he was... and you don't need me to tell you, either, when we first started out, he made some pretty questionable calls too... yes, he was a hero to you, and me, and John... Gords and Allie too, but he wasn't perfect... he was the very thing that you're so terrified of losing... he was human, and he made mistakes, but he learned from them... he learned to recognize when he had to just step back, and admit when he had to start over... but he never gave up, Scott... you were right, he never gave up, he just... well, just had the sense to realize when something wasn't right, or going to turn out as he wanted it to, and he started it all over again, because... well, that's leadership, Scott... and believe me, you're every bit the leader that he was."

From everything he'd said so far, this last little barnstormer was possibly the most crucial speech he'd made. And yes, it had been an immeasurable relief as he'd watched Scott react to it. Nodding agreement, his eyes staying clear and focussed on him, right the way through it. Listening to every one of its points. Processing them, acknowledging them. Accepting the ones that had lauded his strengths, and gently highlighted his weaknesses.

And yes, the willingness to believe them was written all over his face. And yet... well, as he was then stunned to discover, it still hadn't quite been enough.

"I hear you, Virg... I've heard every single thing you've said tonight... and I promise to you, and John, and Gordon, and Alan, that I will remember them... I will learn to step back when I need to, and start trusting not just my judgement, but yours too, but... it - it isn't just that, Virg, it's... it's just every time I make a decision, it - it feels so wrong, like... like I'm sending out some kind of message that he isn't coming back..."

Well, damn. There was an insight of psyche that Virgil had rarely, if ever, considered. The price to pay, he realized, for making such a mistake of his own. For addressing everything about their father in the past tense.

And was he prepared to accept that? Hell, no. Was he going to practise what he'd just preached? Hell, yes!

"Oh, he's coming back... whether the Hood's got him or not, or if we have to search every place on Earth... we are going to find him... because he's out there, Scott... he is out there... we'd both know if he wasn't... and we will find him."

They would, too. But not tonight. Or today, as they now realized it was. Probably not tomorrow either. But as the skies outside started to lighten towards dawn, both of them still glanced at each other, and smiled for everything they could see in each other's eyes. Not just relief, and pride, and gratitude, for everything they'd just faced together, but belief too. Belief in the same promise, sealed in another 'I'll-let-go-when-you-let-go' hug that neither were willing to break. That followed them when their exhaustion finally claimed them, and pulled them both back into much needed, healing sleep.

No feet in laps this time, either, but greater comfort for both of them - a pillowing shoulder for Virgil, and the top of his brother's head for Scott. Huddled snugly together, they slept untroubled, peaceful and calm. Both sharing and savouring the same, uniting dream.

Just as morning followed the night, that day would come.

They would find him.