AN: I think this was from a prompt, which is the first three sentences in this intense little story. This is also therapy of a kind, after making myself sad with sad fic. IDEK.

WARNING: Character death...sort of.

Sea of Glass

Love makes the impossible, possible.

The scene in front of him was an endless sea that looked like a sheet of glass blanketing the world. The only thing he could see was the reflection of the stars above him.

It all made him feel incredibly small. As it was supposed to.

"Makes you feel kinda small, huh?"

The voice-there shouldn't have been anyone, but the voice was there all the same-made him whirl around, breath catching and stuttering in his chest. Incredulity made his throat clamp down on the name, not letting it leave him save how his lips shaped the single syllable.

...Scott…

The man in question smiled gently, ocean-deep sapphire eyes crinkling at the corners. His shoulders rose as he took a breath, and his lips parted, but then the breath rushed from him on a self-deprecating laugh, and the smile became a grin. "Wanted to see you so many times, went over what I was gonna say, but now that you're here…" The words fell away, and he reached out to touch the flannel-clad shoulder, his eyes following his hand as if to make doubly sure of what he was seeing and feeling. "I missed you, Virg."

"How…" Virgil swallowed, and decided the single word said enough. "How?"

"I dunno." Scott's eyes fluttered shut, and he stepped forward to embrace his younger brother. "But right now I don't care."

Virgil wrapped his arms around Scott, feeling the fabric of his shirt and the muscles of his shoulders move under his hands. He was whole, undamaged, young and strong...alive.

Fingers twined in the back of Virgil's hair, then slid down to squeeze his nape, and Scott pulled back to rest their foreheads together. "I'm here. I've got you."

"But you're not," Virgil protested. "You're not."

"I'm right here," Scott countered. "Right where you need me."

"It's not enough." Virgil raised his head, heedless of the tears tumbling down his cheeks. "I need you beside me. In my sky. In my world."

Scott stepped away, raising his hand to smooth his super shiny coif. "I know. I…" He dropped his hand. "I'm sorry, Virg. I don't know what to say. Nothing's gonna make it better, and I'm sorry."

"So that's it?" Virgil's voice was a harsh whisper, echoing in the infinite, glassy space. "I have to go on some sort of vision quest just to be with you?" He shook his head. "Is this a dream? Hallucination? Did I take a two by four to the head on some rescue and blammo, here you are?" He stopped, realizing that Scott had made a sound-a snort of laughter. "Oh, so you're laughing at me now?"

"I'm sorry, that just sounded so…" Scott doubled over, hands on his knees while he laughed, sounding as if he hadn't done so for a long, long time. "Oh, Virgil. I needed that, you just don't know."

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Guess I should be grateful I'm still good for a laugh."

"No, no." Scott straightened with a chuckle. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I just got a mental picture of you asking Gordy to whack you in the head or something." He sighed. "God, I miss them."

"They miss you, too." Virgil folded himself onto the floor, looking up as Scott did the same. "This is just so…"

"Permanent." Scott blew out a breath. "Yeah, that's what they mean by 'dead.'" He looked up at Virgil. "I am dead, right?"

"Last time I checked," Virgil quipped darkly. "Two years, three months, and six days."

"Ah." Scott nodded. "Rescue?"

"Avalanche."

He winced. "Damn. Had to be an avalanche, didn't it?" A sigh. "How'd Alan take it?"

Virgil gave him a look. "You're his big brother, how do you think he took it?"

"Right. Sorry."

"Not your fault. Stupid mountain."

Scott fiddled with a shoestring. "Did I have a nice funeral?"

Virgil sighed, exasperated. "Okay, y'know what? This conversation officially sucks."

"What, I just wanna know if I had a nice wake or not. Gimme a break."

Virgil's face fell, and he dragged his fingers in a random pattern against whatever passed for ground in this place. "It was really nice. The Air Force did a 'missing man' formation. Twenty-one gun salute, 'Taps,' the whole shebang."

"No kidding." Scott's eyebrows rose. "Grandma get the flag?"

Virgil cleared his throat. "They gave it to Dad."

Scott looked up sharply. "Dad? You guys found Dad?"

Virgil closed his eyes, feeling pain well up from his gut. "Yeah. Six months after you...six months after we lost you. We knew that if we had your memorial without Dad, it'd rip him apart." He swallowed. "So we had a small service graveside, and waited the...y'know, the big to-do until Dad could be there."

It wasn't clear to Virgil whether Scott had heard anything beyond the first few words, because his big brother shot to his feet and paced away a few steps, hand to his mouth. When Scott spoke, his voice was ragged. "What did Dad say, when he found out...when you brought him home and I wasn't there?"

The memory of that wonderful, terrible day hit Virgil like a semi truck, taking his voice with it. "He was devastated," he whispered. "Hurt, but-God, so proud, Scott. He was so proud of you."

Deep inside the sapphire gaze, Virgil saw the knowledge of their father's pride click into place. "I'm glad," Scott rasped. "What son could ask for more?"

Virgil stood and wrapped his arms around Scott once again. "What brother could ask for more?" he countered. "If I could just...If we could just-I dunno, do this again-"

"It doesn't work that way, V," Scott said, then stopped at a low rumble of thunder. "Did you hear that?"

The air had gone electric, like the atmosphere before a Kansas lightning storm. "Sure did," Virgil breathed in his ear, not daring to move. He raised his head to survey the sky, which was, inexplicably, beginning to turn from starlit black to indigo, and then to magenta. He heard the breath catch in Scott's chest as his brother raised his own head to see the same thing.

"What the-"

Virgil grabbed Scott and held him tight. "Please," he hissed. "Please!"

Snow.

Snow and more snow.

Chunks of ice fell at his feet, and he looked up at the lone figure in blue scrabbling and skating down the mountain toward him. A scream tore loose from his throat.

"Scott!"

A flash of blue and red zipped past him: Alan on his hoverboard, pushing the small craft to its absolute limit, barreling toward the tiny figure in the distance. At the very last moment, the two figures collided-and then the hoverboard was sputtering, faltering, its engines straining to carry two at breakneck speed. It finally gave out fifty yards away from Virgil, sending both riders ass over teakettle in a tsunami of white powder.

"Mole is go!" Gordon screeched. The versatile craft-outfitted for snow rescue-rumbled into life, its tread taking bites out of the snowy terrain. In the span of a half dozen heartbeats, Gordon's voice came again, tinny over the comm. "I got 'em! Turn and burn, Virgil!"

John's voice snapped into his ear, high and tight. "Go! Go! Sixty seconds to impact!"

His legs moved him of their own accord, and before he could blink, he was slamming himself down into 'Two's pilot seat, lighting all four VTOLs simultaneously. Since the mountain was already halfway into the valley, his engines couldn't add much more damage, so he shoved the throttle up and did as Gordon bade. Ten seconds brought him to his brothers, five more dropped the module, and ten more had the Mole stuffed inside-messy as hell, but they were in. He jacked the module up, pushing it as hard as he could without burning out the motors, and then they were away into the sky. Less than a minute later, the exterior camera brought the sight of the snow erasing the Mole's tread and filling in the divots where 'Two's landing struts had been.

So close. So, so close. Virgil covered his eyes with his left hand and hung on to the control yoke with his right, letting himself tremble for a good minute before wiping his glove down his face and gripping the yoke once more.

Behind him, three exhausted young men rode the lift into the cockpit and tumbled, panting, into their respective chairs. He let them catch their breath, and then spoke, pleased to find that his voice was mostly steady: "You guys all right?"

Alan spoke first, his words on the exhale. "Yeah. We're okay."

Scott grunted in the affirmative, but Gordon let out a ragged breath. "Holy shit, that was close," the aquanaut gasped. "Good hustle, Allie." He exchanged a tired fist-bump with the rocketeer. "You too, Virg."

"Yeah." Scott looked over at Virgil and grabbed his wrist. "Good hustle."

Virgil's throat closed up, and tears stung his eyes. He made a sound that was part groan and part cry, making Scott's eyes go wide with alarm.

"You all right?" the field commander-no, his brother-asked quietly.

"Yeah, I-" Once again, his voice stuck fast. He flicked on the autopilot, then bolted out of his seat and moved to the back of the cabin, ignoring the alarmed glances his youngest brothers aimed at him.

John's voice again, softer: "Virgil?"

"Gimme a minute, Spaceman," he gritted, then looked up into Scott's ocean-dark eyes. "Hi."

"Hi." A hand on his shoulder, warm and real. He could feel the tensile strength of those calloused fingers. "What's got you spooked?" He squeezed Virgil's shoulder. "The avalanche?"

It was as good an explanation as any, though it didn't fit all the emotion pounding through him. His mother's death was an old, familiar pain, worn away by time to the point where the pain was his mother. This had been panic. This had been fear so terrible that he could smell it, the acidic bite of it lingering in his mouth even now. It didn't say Mom...it had screamed Scott's name.

"Come'ere," Scott rumbled, all Big Brother Fixit, and gathered him in for a hug. "It's all right. I'm here."

Virgil hugged him back, letting the tears fall. Yes. Scott was here. They were all here, and that was all that mattered.

-End-