"You can't keep pushing everyone and everything to the limit."

"Hey, I don't push anyone harder than they need to be pushed."

At first he was too caught up in his own grief to acknowledge that of another, even his brothers.

He was too absorbed in finding his own ways to cope that it just didn't register Scott was the one helping them all out, leading them down the paths they needed to walk. He'd taken it as a helping hand, thought little more of it and buried it with his worst moments.

It didn't occur to him Scott had been pushing.

Pushing them all.

Pushing himself.

"You're so darn determined you don't see the danger! We nearly lost Max."

They'd faced many near misses in their line of work. All of them seemed a lot more painful since they lost dad, but to begin with they hadn't seemed to matter.

The hero had been their big brother. Scott had been the one who rushed in with the last flickering hopes and managed to alter the situation, to save the day with determination and a smile.

Near losses turned to quick saves.

And they all smiled: smiled and cheered.

Scott's smile faltered.

Heroism was actually blinded idiocy.

"Max is just a machine. Brains is constantly breaking him apart and rebuilding him stronger. You don't know what you're capable of unless you keep pushing."

"But we're not machines!"

International Rescue became their world – or at least it seemed that way when they collapsed with near exhaustion, glad for the break. Whilst Scott hovered around, waiting as though John calling would be a mercy compared to rest.

Virgil hadn't understood it. He couldn't comprehend how Scott could have the energy to keep going. He started to wander if something was wrong, but with tired tinted glasses or event filled goggles.

It never seemed the right time.

It never felt like his place.

Scott was the eldest, Scott could deal with problems. Scott had dealt with problems: just not his own.

Virgil let it slide. Not because he wanted to, but because he felt he needed to. Because there wasn't a chance or a moment, because there wasn't a feeling or a spark. There was no connection between issues he was seemingly fabricating in his mind.

Scott was fine. They were fine. Human, but fine.

He didn't know Scott's perception had drastically slipped to recognising himself as some kind of super human – machine.

International Rescue only seemed to become his world.

But it became Scott's.

"Someone has got to step forward! I'm just doing what dad did. He never gave up."

Scott was the eldest.

Scott was the 'second dad'.

That was the way it had always been. Virgil tried to learn from him those essential life skills to being a patriarchal figure, though it never seemed to come easy to him. For Scott it seemed to click, register like lightning, quite possibly inherited from dad within his genetics. Virgil didn't see it in himself, let alone John, Gordon or Alan.

Scott volunteered; Scott put the first foot in; Scott took the dive; Scott took the plunge deep into the unknown; Scott took the chances; Virgil stood and watched.

He watched his brother keep ploughing forth, not giving in, never giving up. An unrelenting force as strong as streaks of thunder. He was doing what he had to.

He was doing what he felt necessary.

"Dad worked hard, but even he knew there were limits. He couldn't do it all!"

Except time wore on, time escaped them and it was always the same. Scott did everything for everyone. He did anything he could for anyone and refused to be out done, he point-blankly would not quit.

That was when it clicked.

Scott wasn't dad, he could ever be dad, but he could try to live up to Jeff Tracy's reputation.

It clicked.

He was working hard, too hard, bringing himself to the brink of exhaustion, letting himself begin topple over the edge with no safety net nor harness.

It kept clicking.

He'd lost all sense of reason and boundaries. All ideas of limits and stopgaps. It was all and everything, all or nothing… just all limitless.

Over and over it came to his mind with clarity.

He was doing it all.

All of it.

All for them.

It finally just clicked.

All for himself.

"But I have to do it all! I couldn't save dad, but maybe I can make up for it."

"By saving everyone else?"

He saw it clearly now.

There's was guilt written in Scott's everything expression, rushing through each vein, pulsing through every heartbeat and streaming through every impulse. It was Scott's blood, Scott's momentum, Scott's everything.

It was all guilt.

Guilt that he couldn't save dad, guilt that they had all the equipment in the world with which to do it, guilt that he failed his father, guilt that he failed the only men he would ever love.

Just endless guilt.

He was here; dad was there. There and gone.

Now he saw it. Now he recognised Scott's false airs and graces, Scott's brotherly conscience that they came first and he last. For himself and his health was nothing compared to there's and nothing worse bothering over should his need be (at least to his current poor state of judgement) less.

It was then Virgil knew.

Scott had survivor's guilt.

"But keeping our family safe is equally important. And we all need you to be around."

He supposed no son should survive their father so young. There were five of them too.

It had sparked a hero complex within the eldest though.

Everyone wanted to be a hero and here they were playing at it every single day.

Scott was overcompensating on heroism for all five of them, most likely for the entire world.

Virgil certainly didn't feel like a hero at all. After all he didn't volunteer; he didn't put the first foot in; he didn't take the dive or the plunge deep into the unknown; he didn't take the chances; he stood and watched.

Now he would do it no longer.

If Scott wanted to be a hero, fine. Virgil could let him do that. He could live with letting him do that.

He couldn't live with losing him and he would be damned if he should let it be so easy. Family always had to come first, and just like Scott had put them before himself, Virgil was going to borrow a leaf from the same book. They could keep people safe, but they had to be safe also. They needed each other, they needed to be together: they needed Scott more than he ever needed them.

And there the survivor was.

Surviving, never prospering, taking the same risks Every. Single. Day.

"I miss him."

"I miss him too. We all do. It's hard to think he's gone."

Scott didn't break down.

Scott didn't have wobbles or moments of doubt. If the eldest was faced with a problem, he stuck his chest out, forced his chin up and worked through.

But Virgil knew.

He watched, he waited and he knew. Of course the inevitable breakdown would never come, because Scott escaped the inescapable unscathed.

Seemingly.

But Virgil knew and so he watched and waited… he waited and he was there.

"If I let myself think about it… keeping busy with International Rescue is the only thing I have to keep me from going crazy."

Crazy.

Scott Tracy.

Heroism.

Survivor.

Alive, not dead.

Survivor's Guilt.

He poured his heart out, so to speak, and Virgil took it all the way Scott had for them. He'd eased their grief and allowed them what little normality they could hold onto whilst they bared the brunt of a never ending barrage of painful moments.

It was about time the Survivor got to speak.

"Hey, you've still got us."

And that was what mattered.