Work Text:
His mom used to say he needed to think of his emotions like playing the piano.
6-year-old Virgil just yelled at 5-year-old Gordon for breaking one of his favorite toys, leaving the strawberry blonde in a state of utter sorrow. While Jeff took the youngest to be consoled in another room, Lucy, nearly due with their surprise bundle, gently led Virgil over to their baby grand.
“You mentioned you wanted to know what this did, correct?”
Anger simmering below the surface, Virgil curtly nodded his head.
Lucy patted the place on the bench next to her, motherly smile working wonders on calming Virgil down. The black-haired boy reluctantly sat down next to his mom, staring at the white keys of the device he heard his mother sit at over the past couple of months. For a couple of seconds, she didn’t say anything, which prompted Virgil to look up at her face. Once she saw the chocolate eyes of her boy, she tilted her head toward the piano indicating that Virgil could touch it if he wanted to. Looking back at the mysterious object, Virgil lifted a finger and pressed down on a random place.
A ding came from the piano. Virgil would come to learn that it was Middle C.
Virgil jumped in shock while Lucy couldn’t stop her laughter. She remembered her reaction being very similar when she first touched a piano. Bringing her second-youngest child into her side, she brought her right arm around his shoulders and placed her right hand on the piano, “Here, watch this.”
Virgil’s eyes widened as his mommy pressed three keys in succession, the pitch on each going higher and higher. An arpeggio in the key of C major. Mouth open, Virgil tried repeating his mother’s actions. While he got the same pitches, the way he played the keys were much more jagged and jumpy, a slight pause in between each note signifying that the player double-checked to make sure their finger was in the right spot.
Crinkling his eyebrows in confusion, Virgil tried again more aggressively. It was the same notes, but it didn’t sound right. It didn’t sound like Mommy. Trying one more time with even more force, he was interrupted halfway through by mom’s hand gently gripping his with her whispering in his ear, “Shhh, sweetie, don’t play so hard. Just press, then let the piano do the rest.”
Nodding his head along to his mother’s words, Virgil looked back at the keys with newfound determination. With Mommy’s hand still laying over his, he took her advice to heart and let the piano do the rest. That time, the arpeggio that filled the room, while still not as polished, was much more legato than what Virgil was playing before.
Virgil was proud except for one thing, “But it’s…”
Lucille finished for him, “Quiet? That’s okay, just press a little harder.”
Virgil enthusiastically nodded his head and did as told. Once again he found himself aggressively pounding the keys with a little more force than necessary.
Lucy stopped him once more, “Virg, no--” she had to giggle a little bit, “It doesn’t take that much for a piano to be loud, honey, I promise.”
Virgil raised an eyebrow. How could you be loud without being forceful? Regardless, his mommy was usually right, so he listened to her again. He played with only a little more force, but it still created a drastic change in volume. Virgil widened his eyes at the revelation.
Placing her hands on his sides and receiving childish giggles, Lucy explained in-depth what she was trying to get at, “See, Virg, think of life like playing the piano. More often than not you want to be “piano”, and while there will be times you need to be “forte,” even then, you don’t need to be so… hostile about it. The hardest blows are always delivered the softest. Soft but hard. You hear what I’m saying?”
Virgil was listening, he was, but… “How can I be the piano?”
Blinking, Lucy had to laugh once more. She was so caught up in the euphoria of her comparison, she forgot tiny Virgil didn’t know piano terminology just yet, “Oh no, sweetheart, “piano” is a term that means “quiet”, and “forte” means "loud". Those two come up a lot when learning how to play. It’s important in making your song sound even cooler.”
The stars were back in Virgil’s eyes, “Ooooooh, can I learn to play? How do I learn?”
Lucy looked at him with all the fondness she could muster, “Of course, my little black bean.”
She promptly tickled him into submission, followed quickly by happy tears. Later in the night, she would find her two youngest cuddling each other at the base of the bench, small grins indicating that there were no hard feelings leftover, and all was forgiven.
Virgil went to his first piano lesson two weeks after Alan Tracy was born.
---
Jeff was certain piano playing shouldn’t be happening at three in the morning.
Yet ringing throughout the house was the familiar Canon in D. Jeff couldn’t help but flinch at how the fast part got a little more aggressive than it probably should have. Virgil was always hit the hardest when something bad happened, yet he was always the calmest during the aftermath. Even more than Scott sometimes, which Jeff was pretty sure the eldest regretted a lot.
Around five notes were hit out of tune one after the other, followed by a groan of frustration and two hard objects hitting the keys. At the familiar clashy sound of, well, smacking the keys of a piano, Jeff went against his judgment and walked out to see his third eldest son. The engineer in question had his elbows on the piano and his head in his hands.
Stomping his feet in a way that would let Virgil know of his presence beforehand without scaring him, Jeff meandered up to the black-haired man and gently placed his hand on his shoulder, “Hey, Virg. Piano messing with you again?”
The watery chuckle from behind Virgil’s hands was a win in Jeff’s book. Virgil brought his hands away to look his father in the eyes, “You know it always does…” Virgil looked forlornly back at the shiny black of the grand.
The two men stood and sat in silence, both deep in thought and unsure of how to talk to one another. Clearly, any topic of conversation that wasn’t the obvious elephant in the room would sting, but even if they talked about the elephant all day and night, there still wouldn’t be anything for them to do about it.
Jeff needed to start somewhere, though, otherwise, he would scream, and he knew that would be bad for his body right now, “The power rack in the gym… you upgraded it?”
Virgil flinched before absorbing the question, “Oh, yeah, I decided to add some stability stuff and give it some colors. I use it the most, so I thought I could make it a little more personal. I can change it back if you--”
Jeff squeezed his son’s shoulder with a little bit of force, shutting him up, “Virg, no, that’s not why I brought it up. It’s just… why? You hated weight lifting. You were pretty determined to stay the beanpole of the family, and that’s saying something when you have a sibling like John.”
Virgil’s chuckles were more hearty that time, which meant Jeff still got it. Virgil sighed, “Yeah, you’re right, I originally wasn’t that thrilled at the prospect of getting beefy, but something happened, and I was more inclined towards the culture, in a way.”
Thinning his lips, Jeff thought he connected the dots. His son hated heavy-lifting, then, Jeff disappeared and came home to what was easily the strongest member of their family. At least it was a healthy way of dealing with grief, as long as Virgil didn’t strain himself in the process.
Virgil read his father’s thoughts loud and clear, “Dad, it wasn’t because of you going missing.” Jeff raised an eyebrow and Virgil cleared his throat, “Well, I guess a little bit of it was, but there was a different reason. It happened a couple of months after the Zero-X, I swear.”
Jeff sat down on the bench like Lucy used to and confidently spoke, “Believe me, Virgil, I have time.”
Virgil gritted his teeth. At least this was the conversation his dad was deadset on having, not anything else, “... Promise not to tell Scott or John?”
Oh no, “Uh, maybe?”
Virgil bit the bullet, “Weeelll, Scott and John weren’t taking it very well, none of us were, but they especially. Their reactions kind of hurt even more when I thought about you and how you, uh, reacted to grief… sorry.”
Jeff flinched but paid no mind. Virgil was shutting down and that’s the last thing Jeff wanted, “It’s okay, Virg, you’re not wrong. None of you boys can be wrong about those years after Luce left us.”
Taking a deep breath at the okay, Virgil started up again, “Scott had just left for the Air Force and also decided to stop calling, probably so he didn’t have to think about it, John was, actually, John was focusing on graduating high school early-- which he did, don’t let him downplay it when you talk to him about it.”
Jeff nodded and put the reminder in his back pocket.
Virgil continued to truck along, “And Grandma was out shopping, so that left me, a slightly depressed 15-year-old with a 14-year-old that didn’t want to swim anymore and a 9-year-old that stopped talking. Again.”
Jeff sharply inhaled. He would have to know more about his sons’ lives after the Zero-X, of course, but that didn’t make it easier to listen to how his sons essentially slowly self-destructed because of the man that was also causing them to self-destruct once more in the present.
Damn The Hood. When Jeff got his hands on him--
Virgil didn’t hear or sense his father’s wild emotions, too lost in his memories, “Gordon, who wanted something of yours because of obvious reasons, got Alan roped into it. Alan probably wanted something of yours too, especially since the three of us weren’t doing any comforting ourselves.”
Jeff was familiar with self-recrimination. This was slowly delving into self-hate, which was happening way more than the old father liked at the moment, “Son, from what it looks like, Scott and John and you eventually picked up the slack when you shouldn’t have needed to in the first place. Hell, you’re only a year older than Gordon! If you didn’t hold it against me, don’t hold it against yourself.”
A dark laugh came from Virgil like he didn’t believe his father. However, the way he held his eyebrows indicated he was more or less joking (hopefully), “Who says we don’t hold it against you, old man?”
Alright, Jeff had to laugh at that one. It hurt to see his boys so grown up without his help, but he couldn’t have been any more proud all the same.
Virgil then promptly soured the mood, “So, anyway, Gordon tried climbing to the top of your dresser in your study while Alan just stood right next to him. Two plus two equals two screaming brothers stuck under a dresser with only me as their savior.”
Jeff couldn’t quite stop the jump he made. Well damn, that wasn’t what he was expecting. Virgil clearly handled the situation, however, as both Gordon and Alan are-- well, were fine, plus, Scott and John apparently didn’t even know about it so there was that too.
Virgil had a grin on his face as he recounted the dark experience, “It was scary, but looking back, I can’t help but chuckle, just a little bit. Gordon full-on breaks down laughing at the memory anyway. His face had more annoyance on it than pain, really, and the squawks he let out, man, here I thought I was the potty mouth of the family.”
“Could you be any slower than a wheel-chair lift up a stairwell?!”
“I’m trying, asshole!”
Suddenly, Virgil’s laughter was dark again, “God, Alan’s account of it though, he was trapped underneath it in the other direction. His legs were incredibly still as I desperately tried getting the furniture off... I know he laughs about it now in his own, Alan-way, but… I’m pretty sure the kid experienced a pretty bad PTSD attack of... you know.”
Jeff inhaled slowly for a change. From what he’s albeit briefly heard, Alan loved snow nowadays, but for a while, the poor kid could barely go outside during the winter months. Jeff remembered finding out about it from a phone call from the school. Alan had thrown one hell of a tantrum when he refused to go outside with his peers. Jeff came and Alan jumped right from fury straight to panic and hastily explained how ”he just didn’t like it anymore.” He was worried Jeff would be disappointed in him for being scared.
Virgil’s grin was back to being cheerful, easing Jeff’s dark thoughts for the time being, “The kid wouldn’t let go of me all night, kind of how like we couldn’t get him to release Scott when we found them after the avalanche. Gordon joined in the fun just because Gordon,” Jeff snorted, “We all camped out in my room, blanket fort and all. Halfway through Back to the Future with Gordon snoring up a storm against my back and little Allie still snuggled into my “teddy bear arms” as he calls it, I realized… I wanted to protect them. I wanted to be a 'Scott' or a 'John' to the only two little brothers I had.”
Jeff felt his chest swell at the soft-spoken confession. Virgil continued with growing enthusiasm, “But I realized if I could barely lift a dresser off of them, how could I protect them from anything else? So, I worked on that and focused on more, er, “productive” means of helping someone, you know? I continued to study medical information, worked on becoming an engineer so I could fix things, getting physically stronger, et cetera. It made sense to me.”
Jeff just mindlessly nodded his head, proud of his son’s mature decision. He briefly closed his eyes to think about other eventualities, but then he abruptly opened them at the sound of Virgil starting to cry. Jeff could only keep his eyes wide as Virgil tried wiping away the damned liquid and chuckled in that way that stabbed a metaphorical knife through your heart, “I don’t think I did a good job of that recently.”
Jeff was verging on speechlessness, but not enough to where he couldn’t comfort his child, “Virg--”
It didn’t matter when the engineer didn’t even listen, “Why can’t we ever just be a full family again? Why does life hate us?”
Oh, this really was a mess.
One the father was determined to make right.
Jeff, with the sounds of cricks and cracks in his joints, stood up and firmly planted his hands on his son’s shoulders to get him to focus on his fatherly words. Pressing their foreheads together, Jeff stared intensely into those beautiful, brown eyes, “Virgil, I don’t care what that maniac said. I don't care if we have zero information to go on. We’re International Rescue. We’re getting him back.”
Virgil sighed, his breath shaky as he continued to wipe away tears, “I want to believe you, Dad, I do, but--”
Suddenly, a non-holographic voice spoke from the middle of the room gaining the two men’s attention. Looking over to where the couches were, both Jeff and Virgil full-bodily flinched at the sight.
John was anxiously standing in the living room.
Right next to an even more anxious Fuse.
“International Rescue, we… I’m not sure what I’m doing.”
---
John was fucking crazy.
On certain days when he was tired or exceptionally cranky, Virgil wondered why they put him up on ‘Five in the first place. Sure, John blew his temper the least out of all of them, and he knew how to calculate and strategize more than most computers Virgil came across, but that didn’t make him any less fucking crazy. Did Virgil even need to mention all of his insane plans before now? Sure, the man could pull them off, and he did it well, but trusting the Chaos Crew? Right now?
However, despite how much his brother could be stupid, Virgil was seeing the appeal as he hauled ass through this rickety compound containing a heat signal half the Chaos Crew gave them that was just the right kind of small to be their baby brother.
John was fucking crazy, crazy genius, and Virgil couldn’t physically love his older brother anymore right now without fear of bursting into a giant pile of pride confetti.
Scott and Gordon also were running through the compound somewhere. They knew that splitting up was the first thing the Scooby Gang did whenever they got into trouble, but they were already running on borrowed time. It was like a maze, no brother knew which route would be the fastest, and not even EOS could map it out for them. As soon as The Hood knew they were there, well, they didn’t even want to take the time to think about what Alan might have already gone through, God knows what could happen if The Hood realized he had been betrayed.
The Hood was a crime boss: crime bosses don’t take kindly to mutiny.
Frankly, that’s the least he deserved, Virgil thought darkly. The only sliver of luck the bald creep could potentially get is if the rest of the Tracys found Alan first. Soft but hard. If Virgil were to come across The Hood there were no promises to be made for what the plaid-wearing brother might d--
“---gil, Jesus, stop! You’re right next to the damn signal!”
Screeeech! Squeak! Bang! Pop! Smack-a-doodle-doo!
Surely one of those noises happened when Virgil dug his heels into the ground and smeared the bottom of his feet to stop running, but he wasn’t listening. He really couldn’t, not over the sound of the blood rushing to his ears after nothing but pure sprinting. He was right next to a doorway, some kind of storage closet with locks hastily added as an afterthought.
Leaning one arm against the wall and having one of his hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath, Virgil had all the time in the world to examine the makeshift cage. He knew it was kind of unhealthy, but dammit, he needed his adrenaline back. What better way to rebuild his levels than to aggressively glare at an inanimate object that made his blood boil more and more every second?
If anyone deserved to be treated like an animal, it was The Damn Hood.
“--ou be able to do this by yourself? If you want us there, we can pick up the pace.”
“Yeah, we’re all in this together!” Despite the severity, the aggressive humming of a familiar High School Musical song could be heard. Everyone knew who that had to be. They still let it go. Jokes were how Gordon got through negative emotion.
An example being violent anger.
Right, the problem at hand. Shit, Virgil was usually so good at listening to everything that happened over the comms. He was really dropping the ball tonight, “N-No, I’m fine. Sorry, I just needed to catch my breath. You two should keep mapping, actually, I don’t think either John or EOS have found a way to scan the entire place just yet.”
Virgil could feel the disappointment from two different comm lines. Not that he blamed them, but he was sure his brothers didn’t blame him either. Gordon still wanted to get something in, “Right, be sure to keep us updated. We’ll be listening carefully.”
Standing up straight, Virgil stood directly in front of the door, “Actually, I think I’m going to go dark for a while.”
Gordon objected, “WH--”
Scott interrupted, “Okay.”
Gordon double objected, “--AT?”
Virgil imagined Scott’s flinch as if the older brother were in front of him right now. Regardless, the field commander spoke confidently, “We don’t know what’s in that room. The comms could be more of a hindrance than not.”
John chimed in abruptly and out of nowhere like he always does. It was graciously welcomed just as usual, “Besides, it’s not like Virgil’s going off the radar. I may only be able to see parts of the compound you mapped, but I can still see you. I can always tell when my brothers are in trouble.”
The elder brothers spoke logic and safety, and Gordon’s heavy breathing calmed considerably, “Yeah, okay. Good luck, Virge. Bring our baby home.”
Despite its redundancy, Virgil nodded, “Of course.”
Virgil felt a little selfish, but the danger of having an open comm line was only partially why he wanted to go dark. He felt bad, but in reality, he wanted a little bit of Alan to himself. Virgil knew it would be smothering from all angles when they got Alan home (which they will get), and he could easily be patient and wait for his turn to be alone with the littlest when the time came, but…
He wanted it now. It felt like water slipping through his fingers, but if he gripped hard enough, he could save just a little bit that, with love and care, could become part of a giant puddle once more. Besides… Virgil could count on one hand the similarities he and Alan had. That wasn’t bad in any capacity, and if anything, it made their bond stronger in ways the bonds they had with the others would never understand, but it did make the time they hung out considerably smaller than time with, again, the others.
Virgil and Gordon were wingmen. Virgil and Scott were each others’ best friends. Virgil and John were the voices of reason. Alan and Gordon were partners in crime. Alan and Scott were the bread of the Tracy family. Alan and John were the space bros. Virgil and Alan?...
Were endlessly supportive of each other, sure, and Alan understood that Virgil was just as viable of an option to go to for help as the rest of his brothers, but they didn’t have anything special. They had love, laughter, and memories, but other than that, they were simply brothers. That was enough, yes, of course, but Virgil wanted more, to be more.
He wanted to help plan (even more) pranks, he wanted to help with college applications (geez, when did their little bro get so old?), he wanted to sign permission slips, he wanted to be more than just ‘one of Alan’s brothers’. He wanted to hold the world in his hands for Alan too, but he couldn’t do that without Alan there.
Virgil knew Alan also wanted more for his own, youngest-related reasons. Thank fuck the world granted them a second chance. Now Virgil just had to make sure he didn’t screw this up. Taking a deep breath, Virgil used his body mass to forcibly break open the door. That was iffy. Why was it so easy to break open? The Hood clearly didn’t want to give Alan back to them. Virgil was now on high alert, which did not help the rage building in his gut in the slightest.
His heightened senses allowed him to over-examine every detail in the room. It wasn’t the worst in terms of space, but it sure as hell wasn’t the best. The bed in the corner of the room was something akin to a wooden board nailed to the wall to be lying horizontal, and, Jesus, that wasn’t a blanket, that was a bunch of paper taped together to be a big sheet! Plus, there was no pillow, and even worse, no indication of how food got in and out--
Virgil choked on the air.
On the opposite side of the cage, not that far away from the bed (tiny space, soft but hard), sat a blonde-haired boy. Those freckles nearly made Virgil fall to his knees and cry from joy alone, but those precious, blue-eyes had something in them that kept Virgil vigilant. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t happiness. Shit, did Alan not think this was real?
Well, that response made sense. The kid looked like he had a hellish couple of weeks. There were no bruises or marks to indicate The Hood did anything physical, at least, none the family doctor could see (if The Hood did try and hide something though, hoo boy), but the eye bags he sported were veering off the edge of a cliff right into ‘Are those actually black eyes?’ Ville. Alan’s complexion had seen better days too with how closely he resembled a piece of printer paper. Trembles vaguely shook down the kid’s spine indicating a loose grip on reality. Alan was trying to hold it together, trying to convince himself not to get his hopes up.
Alright, Virgil could handle that. Time to step up and reassure the younger ones that everything was okay like the older ones always do.
Virgil moved forward.
Alan flinched because of it.
And time simply stopped.
Virgil heard his heart tear in half.
Alan.
Flinched.
The kid didn’t think this wasn’t real.
No, he knew it was real.
But he was scared because of it.
Virgil was going to throw up.
He was called “The Hood” because of his endless disguises…
No, the bastard wouldn’t-- didn’t--
Oh, he definitely did. Virgil bet ‘Two on it, pods and everything. There was no way The Fucking Hood, who had what could’ve been considered one of the most important things to the Tracy family, didn’t do something. He was an angry man out for revenge, a venomous snake, and what better way to poison Jeff than to sink his fangs into the one thing that shouldn’t have been near him in the first place.
Holy fuck.
Virgil put his hands together, placed them against his lips and inhaled sharply. Hokay, he needed to rationalize this. He wasn’t sure there was a way to logically think about a man torturing your teenage brother, but the way Virgil was originally clenching his fists at his sides in red hot, fiery anger was bringing said teenager to hysterics, so he needed a different approach.
Hands still against his mouth, Virgil slowly sunk to the floor to sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, his back stiff as a piece of metal. He was still taking calming deep breaths, but at this point, his eyes were closed and his eyebrows were scrunched together. Think, Virgil, think. Soft but hard.
With an exhale as gentle as the breeze, Virgil brought his hands to his lap and opened his eyes, both motions equally as lethargic. His grin was small and light. He remembered that one rescue in the Amazon where a rather frightened panther made its way onto ‘Two. Virgil was the only one who could calm it down before it attacked the families he was saving. It was funny in hindsight. Gordon asked if they could keep it.
Right now, Virgil really hated the irony in comparing Alan’s situation to being caged like an animal. It was poor foreshadowing on Virgil’s part. Remember the panther. Soft but hard, “You remember what you asked me for your 13th birthday? We haven’t used that racetrack in ages. You wanna help me clean it up? I worked hard on it, I’d hate for it to continue to go to waste.”
Once again, Alan flinched, but following the very well hidden swallowing of his anger, Virgil watched as the boy raised his eyebrows. It was half-confusion-half-’what kind of question was that?’ Of course, he remembered! After a grueling day of Virgil helping him with his math homework, the kid mentioned how he wanted a racecar. For his 13th birthday.
“Like, a toy?”
“No! I want a racecar!”
“So, a full-on car? One you can sit in the driver's seat and move around?”
“I want it bright red with shiny wheels and, ooh! I--”
Of course, everyone said no. Mainly because they had no place to put it, Alan’s age notwithstanding. But Virgil, who had seen John’s gift for the year, was determined to win for once. The 19-year-old had been meaning to test his engineering skills out anyway. He couldn’t make an actual car, but a go-kart, on the other hand…
The only problem, however, was that he literally had to do everything alone. Gordon was on the mainland for Olympics training, Virgil would’ve rather died than told John his plans, and he knew Scott would have said no, so, there was only uno.
He spent a week building the car, then the entire day beforehand carving out a makeshift racetrack in a part of the beach they never really went to. They never used it again after Alan’s birthday, but the look on all of his Virgil’s brothers’ faces that day was worth the exhaustion. They ranged from awe to disbelief to disproval with a hint of pride. At least Scooter gave him a hair ruffle later in the night.
Alan was so touched by it he started crying. Virgil apologized to a sobbing Alan at the same time the kid apologized from Scott’s arms. Virgil asked why. Alan just replied, “You wasted an entire day!”
Oh, Allie.
Virgil didn’t let Alan go from his arms for the rest of the day. Octopus hold was engaged, and Alan would never admit that those hugs were better than any physical gift he received.
They still are. Dammit, Alan wanted nothing more than one of Virgil’s hugs right now. Those broad shoulders could fix any problem in the world. The realization he would never get one again allowed Alan to shamelessly release one tear down his cheek.
Alan blinked a few times before realizing there was still someone else in the room. Oh shit, he was still with The Hood. Jumping out of his pants, Alan shoved himself against the wall, eyes wide and staring at the man. Alan felt sick looking at the asshole’s fake worry and concern.
Wait, it hit Alan… The Hood couldn’t have known about that story. Part of Alan’s paranoid mind was trying to convince him that the man could to prevent false hope (again), but… there was just no way. If there was anything his brothers were deadset on, it was making sure The Hood couldn’t ruin anything familial outside of the ‘Birds. Even the ‘Birds were aggressively protected as much as they physically could.
The Hood couldn’t steal memories, which meant that the person in front of him...
Virgil’s chest swelled at the recognition in his baby brother’s eyes, which were slowly getting wider and wider. Talk about holding the world in his hands. Letting out a watery chuckle, Virgil spoke at his normal volume, “Hey, bro, sight for sore eyes, much?”
Well, there was no holding back those tears now. Shakily getting up to his knees (Alan would’ve completely stood up if he could, but he was still a little weak), Alan leaped off of them into Virgil's waiting arms. Without even blinking, Virgil wrapped his muscular build all around Alan like a giant shield, shoving his face into that mop of blonde hair. Virgil inhaled the strands and trembled as he exhaled. He never thought he could do this again.
Neither could Alan, who shoved his nose into that broad shoulder and tried desperately to grab one of his wrists with his arms still around Virgil’s shoulders and failing because the middle child was just that wide. That got a laugh out of the youngest, who settled for just grabbing fistfuls of the IR uniform instead. The blue parts couldn’t be stained by tears, right?
Yeah, Virgil wasn’t sure how he could describe his and Alan’s relationship.
But whatever it was, it allowed tiny Alan to sit right in his big, teddy bear arms, and that was enough.
Soft but hard. Thanks, Mom.