Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Virgil had never really told his old uni friends what it was he did for a job. Some of them knew that he had gone to work for his Dad, but other than that there had ever been the need to go into too much detail. If he was honest, he didn't really put in a lot of active effort in maintaining the friendships, life often got in the way. He had floated around on the peripherals of a group chat, that mostly revolved around people posting photos of posh meals, fancy coffee and more recently a few baby photos. It was grounding in a way, those little snippets of normalcy, it made him feel slightly less remote from it all, and Hell, he could even add his own frothy coffee picture into the mix every now and again.

So it was a pleasant surprise when he received an invitation to the wedding between two of his university friends. It turned out knowing both the bride and groom equated to not just a wedding invite but also upgraded him to attending the joint “Stag/Hen-do” (the British equivalent of a Bachelor/Bachelorette party). Apparently, they had decided that gender split parties were not for them and as they shared most of their friends, they had combined the bachelor and bachelorette party and the result was a weekend in a cabin with loads of activities planned throughout. Virgil had to admit that it did appeal more than other bachelor parties he had been invited to, but it was unlikely he would be able to attend, life would probably do its usual trick. He was half heartedly checking the rota for those dates when Scott came into the lounge.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, doing his best Gordon impression, even down to the jaunty walk. He glanced over Virgil's shoulder “Rotas? Thinking of actually taking some time off? Shocking! DO IT!”

“Wow you’re surprisingly chipper, what's got you so excitable?”

“5 hours of sleep! But seriously, you should enjoy some time off, it's been ages, I’ll even give you a lift”

So it was that Virgil was dropped off within walking distance of a highwire activity centre on the edge of the Lake District to meet the rest of the party. Even if abseiling and an aerial assault course was something of a busman's holiday, Virgil had to admit that it was nice to get out and about without having to rescue anyone. He listened with maybe half an ear as a spotty teenager took them through the safety talk, he’d be checking his own lines himself anyway. The Bride and Groom-to-be had been decked out in Superhero costumes to complete the highwire course, with the addition of a few “L”plates they were all ready and made their way to the first zip wire set in amongst the trees.

In hindsight the capes were probably not a wise idea as “superman” got stuck by his cape half way down the wire. The teenager in charge went from zero to full blown panic in less time than it takes Clarke Kent to pick out accessories. While supervisors were radioed and accident forms hunted down, Virgil shrugged his shoulders, checked his harness and, with the addition of an extra line, lowered himself down the line gently until he was next to the snagged cape. Once he was lined up he reached down and pulled out a penknife from his boot and cut away the offending fabric, allowing superman to glide gracefully to the end of the zipline. Come to think of it, it was probably just as well Scott had dropped him off because he had completely forgotten about that penknife and it would not have gone down well with airport security. Once the line was clear Virgil slid down the rest of the route and reconnected both their safety lines at the other end, all before the on duty supervisor had even located a ladder.

The three members of the party who’d had a view of action from the platform let off a little round of applause, and Virgil stuffed the penknife back in his boot quickly before anyone could mention Health and Safety.

The next activity was an off road Jeep safari and Virgil was quite happy to be a passenger when they were split into groups. The Jeeps were fairly tame compared to his usual ride, and everyone else seemed so excited it was fun to just sit back and observe. Or at least it was until the Land Rovers engine spluttered out at the furthest point of the trail. Virgil was awakened from his general relaxed daydreaming in the back of the vehicle by rising levels of panic radiating from the front seats. On discovering that mobile phone signal was non existent, fumbling attempts were made to locate the walkie talkie they had been provided with and everyone tried to remember the instructions from the safety briefing. Virgil sighed, got out of the jeep and popped the bonnet up. Wrapping his overshirt around his hands to protect them from the hot engine parts he gave a few well placed wallops, before opening the drivers door, leaning over the still flapping driver and forcefully turning the key in the ignition. Bingo, they were back in action. Virgil quietly got back into the rear seat and relaxed back into his seat. The rest of the occupants of the vehicle, only one of whom Virgil knew from university, were staring open mouthed at their impromptu repair man.

“Virgil, did you just punch the engine into submission?”

“Umm, not far off, we’re lucky it's an older manual model, it's just a bit rattly” And with no further ado they were back on their way. Virgil just knew that if his brothers could see him now they would be mocking him for managing to get grease stained even when on holiday. He ducked his eyes down bashfully and went back to watching the scenery.

It is an old saying that these things come in threes, so Virgil was almost expecting it when they arrived at the cottage they were going to be staying in only to find that the electrics were out. The frothy coffee brigade started doing the phone signal dance, strutting around with their phones in the air trying to find that elusive few bars to call the letting agent. While all that was going on Virgil hunted out the fuse box and flipped the switches, which caused more panic by blinding half the people who had been starting upwards as the lights came blazing back on.

Right, he thought, that must be everything now, surely he must be off the clock now…. Even as he thought it he knew he had probably jinxed it.

Then everyone was milling around, claiming bedrooms , putting the kettle on (there was a sizable british contingent in the party, who seemed to be heavily reliant on tea). One of the girls in the kitchen had cracked open a pack of biscuits that had been left in a welcome basket ( because tea without biscuits was apparently a crime). Not long after the pre ordered Pizzas arrived and everyone congregated around the large farmhouse table to tuck in and reflect on the day. The descriptions of personal bravery grew more exaggerated as the drink flowed. Virgil chuckled to himself, it felt like a family dinner, with everyone trying to outdo each other. Although the adventure stories were a little more dramatic at home. He felt an elbow nudge him in the ribs.

“Tell them about the zip line!” his neighbour insisted, when he only looked confused they continued “you know, how you swung down and cut Alex's cape out, all daring rescue, it was impressive” Virgil shrugged in response, not really fussed about adding his story to the pile.

“Oh were you saying about Virg saving us in the landrover?” his neighbour on the other side leaned across him to converse over him. “We would have been stuck up there otherwise, Might. Have. DIED!” they added dramatically

“No, I was saying how he went full Tarzan and saved our fair Groom from certain death!” Virgil snorted at this one. He obviously wasn't the only one to find it funny as Graham at the end of the table started spluttering. Although a second glance had Virgil reassessing that statement as it became clear Graham was in fact choking, not that everyone else had noticed as the conversation had got quite loud. Virgil jumped up and, before anyone had time to make a joke about his rapid departure from the table, had come up behind Graham and given him a solid whack across the back. As unlike in the movies it is not always necessary to complete a full Heimlich maneuver to dislodge an item in the windpipe. Nothing happened, Graham continued to choke. Ok, so maybe this time it was like the movies, full Heimlich it was to be. One swift movement and the offending olive shot out of his mouth and bounced down the length of the table, effectively drawing the full attention of the rest of the party. Jaws up and down the table hung loose once again. Virgil realised that blending back into the peripheral was not going to be so easy now.

Before he had made it back to his seat there was a yelp from the woodburner behind the long kitchen table. Yes, someone had been faffing about with the fire and managed to burn themselves on the hot metal. Honestly, this lot were exhausting, how could so many university educated, supposedly intelligent people, be so utterly useless?

One choking victim deposited safely in a chair, Virgil went to his next patient and set them up at the sink to cool their burns. Thankfully the burns were fairly minimal and wouldn't require a trip to hospital. Counting this as a success he parked the burns victim in an armchair with a cold compress and went in search of a beer.

A minute or so later and there were panicked sounds coming from the kitchen, on instinct Virgil set aside the “real ale” someone was trying to convince him had a “complex flavour profile” and went to investigate. When he entered the room what met him was the sign of a young woman sat on the kitchen floor apparently having an allergic reaction to a biscuit of all things, another woman was clinging off her arm and telling her to be calm in that high pitched way that makes everyone anything but calm. Virgil ducked into the small space, and crouched down on his haunches to get into the young woman's eyeline. It was Jen he realised, he knew Jen, an energetic livewire who shared most aspects of her life with the group chat, absolutely no filters. Which turned out to be a blessing because it meant that Virgil knew that she had very recently been confirmed as having a coconut allergy. Yep, that would be the biscuits doing then, he eyed the offending half eaten snack where it had been abandoned on the floor.

“Hey Jen, did you get given an Epipen for that allergy?” he asked and she gave a frantic little nod, “Ok, did you bring it?” He really hoped she had, but kept his voice as calm as if he was only asking her to pass the salt. She waved to her bag, the contents of which was half strewn on the kitchen floor. A little light rummaging soon proved fruitful and Virgil placed it in Jens hands. She looked back at him with, if possible, even more panic. “Have you ever had to use it before Jen?” a shake of the head. “Do you want a hand with it?” She tensed up but still nodded, grabbing his wrist.”do you want me to talk you through it?” He had truly never known her to go this long without talking, usually she prattled along so fast that people had trouble keeping track. If the situation had been different he might have been enjoying the quiet, but ever the professional he calmly talked her through administering the Epipen. He then stayed sat on the floor with Jen while she calmed down, and shooed concerned parties out of the kitchen with one hand to stop her from getting too worked up again.

Virgil chalked another one up on the mental list of “at least we didn’t need to go to A&E”, silently cursing the fact that he had such a list, and that it was growing far too quickly. The rest of the evening was fairly quiet from an emergency standpoint. There were embarrassing Mr & Mrs games, lots of drinking and some off key singing. But Virgil was a little on edge throughout, just waiting for the next inevitable thing to happen. That coupled with some ever present jetlet, had him excusing himself before anyone got to the point of dangerous drunk, as he was afraid he might be required to intervene. Sometimes he hated being responsible, but this lot were a liability, and he’d never live it down at home if one of them actually managed to hurt themselves while he was here, worse still if any of the emergency services were required.

The next morning Virgil rolled out of his bunk (he had been too late when everyone was claiming beds and ended up with the bottom bunk in a room set up for family groups). It had been a snug fit. Jen was in the upper bunk and appeared to be hugging a large saucepan and wearing a large fluffy sock over her head, he was glad he had slept through whatever that was supposed to be.

A brief exploration of the ground floor seemed to suggest that nobody had got themselves seriously injured after he had retired for the night. He picked his way through the detritus that 15 adults under one roof seems to create. He let out silent praise to the god of hot beverages when he spotted proper coffee and cafetiere nestled amongst boxes of Yorkshire tea. Virgil would have bet ‘Twos front thruster that this coffee was Matts, if the endless coffee photos in the group chat were anything to go by, so he was fairly confident that he wouldn't get into trouble for stealing some. He nibbled on a biscuit while the kettle boiled, it looked like there were about 10 packs all open, and piled near the kettle. Was this some sort of British “Stag-do” tradition that he wasn't aware of, should he have bought a pack of cookies with him? Although by that logic there were also 5 large boxes of tea bags, he wasn't sure what the official ratio of Brit to teabag should be, maybe Lady Penelope would know.

He settled down on the sofa with his coffee and let the sound of the waking house wash over him. It was a fairly calm morning, he only got drafted in to fix the oil powered boiler since the showers all started running either ice cold or scalding hot, yes that was another grease stained shirt. Then he had to check up on his burn victim from the previous evening (all fine) and bat a pot of coconut yogurt away from Jen, who for someone with an allergy really didn't bother herself with reading labels. Then it was only one small domestic fire from hair straighteners being left on a scatter cushion and one splinter removal from someone messing about with the woodpile near the burner. A quick round dispensing paracetamol and pint glasses of water to the hungover and he was done. So yes, fairly relaxed morning.

Virgil was just sitting down with his hard won second coffee when the day's activities were announced.

“Axe Throwing!”

If he hadn't been drinking such a nice blend Virgil would have spat his coffee out in shock, but too many years wearing an enclosed helmet had taught him to repress such urges. Who in their right mind was letting this lot near Axes, let alone encouraging them to throw them. He cast his eyes around the assembled persons, until he spotted the glint in Jen’s eyes, he knew that glint, it had definitely been Jens idea - god help them all. Jen was no longer wearing the sock as a hat, she had instead used it to tie her hair back in a loose ponytail. That told you all you needed to know about her really. Virgil was just glad that Jen and Gordon had never crossed paths, he could just imagine the mushroom cloud of destruction that would occur.

As everyone busied themselves with getting ready to go, Virgil resisted the urge to contact John and get the local emergency services on standby. He did, however, go and dig out the small first aid kit that was at the bottom of his bag. For once grateful of Scott’s worrywart tendencies. It only held the most basic of items, but he held onto it like a talisman as if he could ward off misfortune simply with its presence.

When they got to the outdoor activity centre Virgil was relieved to see that it seemed a lot more organised than he had feared. After a safety briefing, which he paid far more attention to now that he knew how incompetent his companions were, they were led to an enclosed range set up with heavy wooden targets.

The “Stag” and “Hen” were the first up to the bat and went to it with much enthusiasm. Virgil was glad the capes had stayed at home today. The axes themselves were not very large and everything seemed to be running quite smoothly. He began to think that he had been overly worried, Scott was right, once you started rescuing people, all you saw was potential disasters. It all continued swimmingly, each person getting a chance to let out some anger by flinging the axe at the wood. Some of the party were getting more theatrical on their turns, letting out the sort of grunts that usually accompany professional tennis tournaments. From these displays of exertion Virgil figured it must take some force to get the axe to bed into the wood. When his turn came around he lobbed the reasonably small axe at the target, momentarily forgetting he didn't have the resistance and additional weight of his usual exo suit to impact his swing. What had felt like a fairly relaxed throw ended up splitting the target down the middle and wedging the axe into the support strut behind it. Well that was embarrassing, even more so when the instructor couldn’t dislodge the weapon thereby taking one lane of the throwing range out of action. Virgil did offer to have a go at removing it himself, but the centre's insurance wouldn't allow it. He quietly excused himself from any further turns and settled down at a picnic bench with a takeaway coffee from a nearby hut.

At least he could enjoy being out in the countryside and it looked like he wasn't going to need the first aid kit after all, maybe his friends had used up their quote of stupid for the trip. He let his eyes close briefly and let the weak sunshine play over his face dappled as it made its way through the canopy of the trees around him. The next thing he heard was a shuffling limping step through the woodchip underfoot and it was getting steadily closer. He cracked open one eye cautiously, be better prepared for whatever new onslaught was coming his way.

It was Jen, of course it was Jen, limping in a pair of clompy boots which looked so box fresh you could still practically smell the shoe salesman's aftershave. In fact, now that he looked closer he could see the price tag swinging where it was still attached to the back of the shoe.

She plonked herself down heavily on the bench and proceeded to chatter away, not in the least put off by Virgil's shut eyes.

“Oh my god, my feet are absolutely killing me!” she exhaled “they said you had to have enclosed shoes for all these activities, which is all fine and good, but did I have any? No! I mean, look at these things.” she lifted one leg up for his inspection and he dutifully opened an eye to inspect said shoe, a bemused smile on his face. No other response seemed to be necessary and she merrily continued “I think I might actually have claustrophobic feet, they don't like to be enclosed, toes are meant to be able to wiggle!” Yes, Jen and Gordon should never meet. “I would sell my own hamster for a pair of flip flops right now”

“That's strangely specific,” Virgil laughed

“Well I just don't feel in the mood for loafers, you know, feel the need to wriggle.” she joyfully kicked her heels into the leaf mulch at their feet. “I think my blisters have blisters now”

Ah, there was his cue! Virgil dug out the first aid kit from the bottom of his bag and held it out to her “band-aid?” he offered.

“Oh my god, you’re my hero!” she enthused “do I have to give you my hamster now?” she looked so serious that Virgil couldn’t help but laugh.

“I don’t think a bandage can quite compare to a pair of flip flops” he said

“Well I can’t give you half a hamster, that would just be weird” Jen carried on still very serious whilst she tugged her boots off and dumped them in his lap.

“You do realise you've left the tags on, that wouldn't have been helping” he pulled the tag off and returned the boots to the floor

“yeah , well I should probably have put socks on too” she giggled bringing her bare toes up for all to see, each nail was painted a different rainbow shade “I forgot to pack any, I always figure that your feet dry out quicker than shoes - see, logic!”

“Seriously, you've got a sock in your hair!”

“ But that's holding my hair back.” she explained slowly as Virgil looked perplexed “It's also not mine”

“Dare I ask whos” he was dreading the answer, but at the same time couldn't stop himself from asking. This was Jens super power, she drew you into her slightly chaotic world as if it was all perfectly normal.

“You can ask, but I honestly don't know, but I guess it's mine now” she reasoned

During this time Jen had been adorning her feet with a patchwork of different plasters. Virgil glanced down and her handiwork and visibly winced

“I am loving these character plasters though,” this was accompanied by another toe wiggle, “Not judging by why do you have princess plasters? And enough for a full princess party at that”

“I honestly don’t know” he replied “but I would guess there's a brother with a unique sense of humour involved somewhere.”

“Oh yeah, there's a herd of you lot isn't there? Have they all got a tinge of the ginge?” he was stumped until he remembered that John had visited him at uni once. “Do you grow a ginger beard? I bet you do, is that a too personal question, I suppose it is really, hmm, ahh well, said it now” she prattled on, seemingly not even needing to pause for breath. Answers didn't seem to be required either. He held out his hand for the plasters and took the packet as she handed it over, all whilst still chattering away. Then he gestured for her foot and when it was deposited in his lap, halfway through a monologue on how ginger people didn't go grey they just faded so maybe his brother would get a Santa beard when he was old, he proceeded to carefully redistribute plasters. Having something to do with his hands allowed him to zone out the enthusiastic babble, also the mess she had made would have only created more blisters. Not wanting to interrupt her conversation he simply pointed to the sock in her hair, thankfully she seemed to understand and she plucked it out and handed it over. It was conveniently oversized so could easily be pulled over the plasters without disrupting them. Once the second foot was also checked, patched with princesses and some tubular bandage used in place of a second sock, Virgil called it done and released Jens feet back into the claustrophobic confines of her boots. This seemed to break Jens concentration and she finally took in what he had done.

“Oh you really are my hero, would you look at that, good as new! Cheers Virg, I owe you one,” and with that she bounded back to the axe throwing range. Virgil let out a sigh, enjoying the return of peace and quiet that settled in her wake. His coffee was now stone cold, the price of a good deed he supposed. The calm that settled after “Storm Jen” allowed the birdsong to be heard again, and the rustle of the leaves was almost musical with its rhythm. Virgil was just thinking how it differed from the crashing of waves on the island when Jen returned with a surprising display of stealth.

“BOO!” she shouted right into his ear, causing Virgil to almost jump out of his skin. If Gordon had been here he would have got video evidence to use as blackmail later, maybe even create a Gif out of it too.

“HA! You jumped quicker than a ferret up a trouser leg!” Jen laughed, Virgil honestly only understood half of what she was going on about at any given time, and that was clear on his face.

“Here,” she said, depositing a large takeaway coffee cup in front of him “since yours is probably more of an iced coffee now” Virgil spied the steam coming out of the gap in the lid, and the smell of roasted coffee beans made their way to his nose. Any anger at being startled instantly melted away and a dopey grin spread across his face.

“That's better, gotta keep you fueled, I think you’re the only thing stopping us lot from becoming an interesting footnote in the next lot of Darwin awards.” She ruffled his hair, getting a grunt in return, and left again as quickly as she had arrived. Jen was more observant then she let on, the string of qualifications really should be a clue, but the ditzy prattle was very good at muffling the academic appearance. Virgil suddenly thought that he should maybe be more afraid of Jen ever meeting Brains.

The rest of the afternoon was drama free. They had grabbed dinner at a pub - and nobody choked. There had been a few rounds of darts - and nobody was impaled. They had walked back to the holiday cottage - and nobody got lost. Although Virgil was a little suspicious that Sian, who was a work friend of the bride, might have been exaggerating the ankle injury that resulted in him having to carry her across the last field on his back. It had looked perfectly fine when he checked it, but how do you politely tell someone, who you're not related to, to “walk it off”? They had been so close to their destination that it hadn’t seemed worth the argument. Unfortunately she had quite strong perfume and had nuzzled into his shirt enough to leave him smelling strangely floral for quite some time after. The smell had got right up his nose, and caused a fair few startled sneezes.

His suspicions only grew when another of the work friends was found artistically laid out on the floor in the kitchen, claiming to have tripped on the rug and wanted to be carried up to her room. He really wished she hadn't been staying in one of the attic rooms. She possibly did too, when he transferred her to an inelegant fireman's lift in order to get through the narrower stairs at the top of the house. He left her with paracetamol and a glass of water, before making his escape. Not surprisingly she quietly reappeared less than an hour later clearly bored of solitary confinement. The final work cronnie declared rather loudly that she had something stuck in her eye, and would Virgil be a darling and take a look. He caught Jens amused look from the other side of the room, she was quite happily watching him squirm, and gave him a jolly wink.

Well, ever the professional Virgil did take a look at the poor girl's eye. Not surprisingly there was nothing to see. But he used a penlight just to be sure, and maybe just to stop her from pouting.

Once he was sure it was all an act, he let the little Gordon on his shoulder take the lead
“Oh yes, you're going to have to flush the eye out, come on, let's get you to the sink” A thorough rinse at the sink and she looked like a panda with mascara running down to her jaw line.
“There we go, bet that feels better. Right where was my beer?” and he left her dripping and slightly put out in the kitchen.

Jen caught up with him at the entrance to the lounge.

“Smooth. Very smooth, I like your style Virg my man. You do know she had paid for those individual lash extension thingies before coming, she's been going on about them since she got here, that and the rest of her beauty regime, which I might add, does not involve getting doused at the kitchen sink” she spluttered as laughter overtook her. Virgil tried to look innocent, but when Jen held her fist up he didn't hold back in bumping it with his own. “Also she insulted my boots!” Jen continued “ I mean, how dare she, what's not to love about these gorgeous bucket boots?!” she tapped her boot against Virgil's own footwear “Got them specially to match my anorak! Height of sophistication this is. Who gets lash extensions to go to the lake district, barm pot, I mean, did you get yours done? Although, maybe you didn’t have time after the fake tan - hey laddie?” she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. Yes she was definitely too observant, an Island tan did stand out in springtime England where the corcasian section of the population appeared to take complexion advice from a bottle of milk. Or as it was referred to on Tracy Island - “Spaceman white” (available at all good DIY stores in both matt or gloss finish)

“Right, now. I think there is a game of pictionary planned, and if you promise to be on my team I promise to protect you from the office crew” She stuck her hand out to shake on the deal.

“Throw in a beer and you’ve got a deal” countered Virgil.

“Shrewd business mind you have there, ok!” Jen grabbed his hand and energetically shook it. “But first. Attention everyone, it's awards time!” She fairly bellowed across the room “get your sorry arses in here pronto!” she punctuated this with some frantic clapping to chivvy people along.

Once everyone had been corralled into the living area, Jen took to the stage, or in this case, in front of the fireplace, which to Virgil's great relief was not currently lit. She dragged out a pile of handmade certificates decorated with star stickers and glitter.
“Right, first award, for …..Graham, give me a drumroll, look alive man, we need to build a bit of drama into this. So first up the award for “Most dramatic Zip line entrance” goes to, Captain fantastic, the Stag were all here for!” a ragged round of applause and cheering filled the room as the Groom was solemnly presented with his award.

“Up next!” Jen all but bellowed to get everyone's attention “ The Award for Dangerous Driving, side note ‘Least likely to be allowed in a Jeep ever again’ goes to Lara!” more clapping and hooting, especially from those who had been in that particular Jeep.

The awards followed on thick and fast with everyone getting some sort of mention, the bride even got awarded a paper crown, again with Jens’ trademark glitter and stars. Notable awards included, “most convincing Viking” for the axe throwing. “Bambi award for the most number of trips, stumbles and falls”, “Optimistic packing prize” for the girl who packed a bikini. Virgil was quietly proud of his “Hero of the holiday” award which had a footnote of “ for heroically saving us all from ourselves” across the bottom.

The next morning marked the end of the trip and by some quirk of the laws of physics there seemed to be more half open packs of biscuits and boxes of tea bags than people, so anyone who stood still in the kitchen for too long had a packet shoved into their hands to take home. Because, as Jen pointed out, you couldn’t just leave tea bags, it would be a crime. In fact she went on at quite some length about it. This is why he finally found himself back home on Tracy Island, ever grateful to Scott for a lift home, trying to find a home for a box of yorkshire tea bags in a cupboard that was perfectly proportioned for coffee.

“You look shattered Virgil,” said Scott, who was watching as Virgil struggled to shuffle the coffee packets in a way that would allow space for the tea. “Was it a good party?”

“Yeah, yeah it was. Odd, but good. Only I never knew it was such hard work keeping people alive.”

“You do know that's our job right” quipped Scott.

“Yeah, but honestly, that many degrees and qualifications and yet still they seemed determined to go the way of the dinosaurs, I was beginning to think it was a set up. It was exhausting,” he sighed, “I’m going for a nap, somebody put the world on hold for a bit” and he trudged off, leaving Scott to examine the certificate Virgil had stuck to the fridge with an amused smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Virgil had just sat down, it had felt like a lifetime since he had last taken the weight off his feet, and no sooner had his buttocks adjusted to the comfort of the sofa than his phone began to ring. He cursed under his breath when he realised it was coming from his back pocket and as such he would have to move in order to shut the damn thing up. In an attempt to prolong the actual act of sitting, he wriggled, shifting onto one side only the bare minimum required to allow for phone extraction. Then promptly slumped back down with a little huff once he had the device in his hand. This might have accounted for the slightly grumpy pout on his face when he answered the call. He didn't bother scrutinising the number, it was an audio only call, EOS did a pretty good job of blocking spam so it was probably someone who was genuinely trying to get hold of him, and not just an automated message telling him that he could be eligible for compensation if he had been in an accident. He sometimes thought about answering some of those calls, and providing them with a list of all the accidents he had attended, just to see if their heads exploded. (Unbeknownst to Virgil, and thankfully Scott, nobody knew that Gordon had done just that, on more than one occasion. He took great pride in the fact that he never ever lied or exaggerated the truth, and he would wait and see how long it went on for before the poor call centre worker decided it had to be a prank and hung up on him instead - 27 minutes was his personal best)

“Hello, Virgil speaking” he answered with a sing-song lilt, not wanting to appear rude even if he was feeling antisocial, it wasn't their fault after all.

“Hey Virg!” It was a cheerful voice, a little muffled by background machinery noises, and sounded as if the speaker was just a bit too far away from the microphone. The initial greetings didn't provide Virgil with anything to go on to help him work out who the caller might be.

“Uh, Hi?” He really didn’t want to sound rude, but his brain was really drawing a blank, and he was starting to think maybe it was just a well informed spam call that had got past EOS’s firewalls somehow. “Sorry, who is this?” he asked a little timidly, knowing he was going to kick himself when it turned out to be someone he really ought to recognise. His mind raced through possible people, but all it told him was that actually not many people ringed him, most of his communication to anyone outside the family was almost exclusively via email or messaging applications. That struck him as a bit sad when it dawned on him, but there was no time to dwell on that currently, not while he was still stuck trying to work out the identity of his mystery caller.

“Huh?” the voice came back, not really shedding any more light on the matter.

“Uh, who’s calling?” he tried again

“Oh, that's easy, I’m calling!” the voice cried enthusiastically.

Virgil rubbed his free hand over his face, he was beginning to wish he hadn't started this, but he was a Tracy and therefore did not give up easily. He took a deep breath and dived back into the conversation. “Ok, and you are?” he said, trying to channel more patience than he really felt right now.

“Ha! You’re funny Virg, it's me, Jen! Do you not have my number saved, you great lummox? Ah oh, no I see, this isn't my phone, that might have something to do with it. Hmmmm.” the voice petered off eventually. Virgil slumped in his seat, the identity of the caller confirmed his fears that this call was not going to start making more sense any time soon.

Jen went a mile a minute at the best of times and prattled on along so many tangents that it was hard to keep track. She was staggeringly bright, but like a lot of those really intelligent people, couldn't always focus that into practical everyday scenarios successfully. It always felt that a lot of stuff was bubbling over the edges with Jen, and in amongst the cauldron of her thoughts pearls of genius jostled for position with benign things like shopping lists and odd socks.

It seemed as if in the years since their time at the same university, Jen had only increased in her conversational agility, she bounced all over the place like a rubber ball. Virgil let the waves of semi-connected streams of consciousness wash over him, desperately hoping that the important pieces would percolate to the top.

“...so you see, I thought, I’d ring you, since I’m in Geneva, and so we’ll both be flying in, I thought we could share a hire car from the airport……”

Oh dammit, it sounded like he had missed a key plot point.

“Sorry, what?”

“What? Well for Alex and Sues wedding, obviously, you must have had the invite. You don't go to the stag do and not get invited to the wedding! That would be weird, Oh, you did get an invite right? Because this would be really awkward now otherwise….”

Virgil jumped in where there was a microscopic break in her words. “No, yeah, I mean I did get an invite. I just haven't worked out if I was going to go or not, thought I’d just send a gift maybe?” His voice came out rather smaller than he would have liked, he guessed that if he was honest with himself he was a bit worried about being a bit of a third wheel at the party.

“Awwh no! That's defeatist talk, you’ve gotta come. Didn't you read the invite, it's at an actual genuine stately home! Sue’s parents are footing the bill, they’re going all out on this one, her sister only got a barn conversion. This is an actual, honest to goodness: hat wearing , canape serving sort of shindig. So that's cleared that up, you’re coming. So, next point of business, Amanda is organising accommodation type things, she's booked out a glamping site with yurts and stuff. It's all so picturesque it makes my teeth itch! She's planning activities for a whole weekend for all the old uni lot. And I need you on my side, and Graham, we’re standing tall against aggressive organizing! We hold firm against overly filtered representation or artificial merriment! And most of all we stand united as the third wheels in a world of aggressively sacerine coupliness! We need you, we’re gonna be the three amigos! So are you with us!” Her voice was raised in a full battle cry now as her call to arms reached its conclusion. Virgil could just imagine her waving her arms around as she ranted and he laughed out loud down the phone line.

“Right!,” Jen was still talking at a volume usually referred to as “Gordons’ outside voice” on the island, and not actually giving him space to answer. “I take that as your agreement. On to the next point of business, logistics! Now I know they’re not usually my strong point, but I figured that since you’ll have to fly in, and so will I , we can share a hire car from the airport and pick up Graham on the way, because he really can't be left to his own devices, remember what happened when he tried to use the metro in Paris? We didn't see him for 3 months! You'd have thought he would have picked up some French in that time really. Anyway, what point was I making?”

God, keeping up with her train of thought was exhausting, he zoned out again when she started listing different flights from Geneva, catching a few pieces about why she was there, (she was involved in some complicated research project that would have had Brains prinking his ears up with interest). He lost the thread again for a while and only caught up when she was listing off stops on the central line of the London Underground. In the end, he figured he was just going to have to accept defeat and just try and make it as painless as possible.

“Hey Jen, Jen!” he nudged his way back into the fray.

“Huh, so yeah, full of badgers it turns out? Sorry what? Did you say something?”

“Jen, how about I pick you up from Geneva on my way and we can grab Graham on the way from the nearest airfield?”

“Seriously? Awwh Virgil this is why we need you, you're our tame competent adult! How would we get anywhere without you?”

“Well in Graham's case, via the Paris Metro it seems. Did you say Amanda had sent out details of these Yurts? Do I need to reply or something?” he asked, trying to keep her on task and focused.

“Ah no, I already replied for you!” he could hear the massive grin in her voice, and he got the feeling that maybe he had just been played, but there was no malice in it, so he was willing to roll with it, too many years with brothers had taught him to pick his battles. Maybe going with Graham and Jen would be fun after all, even if the idea of organised fun did sound a little terrifying. At least he was comforted in the knowledge that anyone trying to aggressively organise Jen would have an uphill struggle.

Knowing what an exhausting experience Virgil's last lot of leave had been, Scott readily agreed to his request for time off, without asking too much detail around how Virgil intended to spend the time. Little knowing that this had all the potential to be just as eventful for his brother.

Chapter Text

When the day came around, and Tracy 2 touched down on a small airstrip on the outskirts of Geneva proper, Virgil could spot Jen a mile off. She was wearing a bright orange packamack and alongside a wheelie case was also dragging a large reusable shopping bag out of which flip flops kept falling. Each time she picked one up off the tarmac, another solitary flip and/or flop made its own bid for freedom. If it had been choreographed it would have been considered a masterpiece of comic timing comparable to Charlie Chaplins finest and would probably have warranted an academy award nomination. However, in this instance, Virgil was the only audience member, and the voice of his grandmother in his head reminded him that he really ought to stop laughing and go and assist poor Jen, not least because they had a rapidly approaching runway slot if they were going to make it to England any time this year.

Virgil was learning, he knew better than to ask why Jen appeared to have packed several dozen pairs of flip flops for a single weekend. But he forgot this wisdom when, once she was settled in her seat, she proceeded to pull out a pair of beige high heels, a bag of multicoloured sequins and a tiny tube of glue. He fell for the trap and found himself asking: “what have you got there Jen?” with a quizzical look on his face.

Well the answer came, predictably, at length and with quite a few plot twists along the way. The general gist was that Jen hadn’t been able to find shoes of the correct level of sparkly in the right colour, so had decided to make her own. How hard could it be, she reasoned. Virgil could just picture Scott's face when he found random rainbow sequins in the jet, because it was bound to happen. Virgil's brain raced through all the possible ways this could end badly, and since only one thing seemed to be a possible medical threat, he contented himself with grabbing her a pair of gloves from the first aid box so she didn’t glue her fingers to anything and left Jen to her crafting. He knew when to pick his battles, and an occupied Jen was more likely to be a quiet Jen, at least for now.

Just as Virgil was beginning to prepare for landing, Jen thrust one garishly adorned court shoe under his nose.

“Feast your eyes on that beauty! Happy with that! Do you want me to do yours next?” She twisted the shoe around, making the light dance over all the multifaceted surfaces and dance across the cockpit like a stained glass window.

“Umm, I’m good thanks, we’re not far out now,” he glanced away from the dials and across at his passenger, and was shocked by what he saw. “Jeeze Jen, there are more sequins on you than the shoes! What did you do?”

She glanced down and started absently preening spangles out of the fibres of her saggy knitted pullover like a rather fabulous cat, “hmmmm, I do seem to be rather sparkly, I think I’m just going to live with it and style it out. I look ready for a festival, say Virg, shall we ditch the Do and go gate crash Glastonbury? Oh, but we should probably get Graham first, or he’ll think he’s been abandoned. Also he’s always looking for a reason to break out the gold hot pants again.”

“Uh huh? Well I didn’t pack mine, so how about we just stick with the wedding” Virgil chuckled, giving his attention back to the landing process.

Their onward journey was marked by a breadcrumb trail of sequins, but they managed to secure their hire car, pick up Graham (thankfully not in gold hot pants) and find their way to the glamping site without too many dramas.

When they arrived, mercifully pretty near the arrival time they had predicted to Amanda, they were met by the woman herself, complete with clipboard.

“Oh lord, save me, she's in full planning mode,” Jen slid down in her seat trying to let the front passenger seat foot-well swallow her whole.

Graham leaned forward from the back and jabbed her forcefully in the ribs. “You talked us into this bloody idea Jen, you can't hide now, you talk to her, because I’m bloody-well not dealing with Amanda.” he jabbed her again for emphasis.

“Ouch!” Jen wiggled to try and get away from her backseat assailant, whilst still trying to keep her head below the level of the dashboard. “Get off! I sent the confirmation email, I’m done, someone else can be the adult now!” and as the words left her lips, both her and Graham slowly swivelled their heads towards Virgil, clearly the same idea dawning on them in unison. “Hey, Virgil….. ?”

Virgil wasn’t a fool, he wasn't going to let that sentence reach its inevitable conclusion. “Nope! Nope, nope nope! No way, I’m with Graham, this was all your idea, you can be the sacrificial lamb” he caught Graham's eye. Graham was quick to catch on, and snaked his arm between the front seat and the car door and on Virgil's nod pulled on the door handle and swung it out with a shove just as Virgil leaned across from the drivers seat and nudged Jen out the open door. She tumbled out the door in a slow motion bundle of saggy jumper and sequins, one stray flip flop flying free as her legs ended up higher than her bum. She may have shrieked, but it was soon drowned out by her cackling laughter and cries of “betrayal!!” from her inelegant position on the floor. Unfortunately for her, this just drew the attention of the marauding clipboard to them quicker. Amanda advanced with all the unwavering purpose of an armored tank.

“Ahhh Jen, you made it, we were beginning to wonder where you had got to?” items were aggressively ticked off the clipboard with expertly expressed passive aggression.

“Hi Amanda,” Jen greeted her, without rising from the floor, but giving a cheerful wave all the same, “We have arrived! All present and accounted for! Midday as promised!” Jen started to pull herself off the dusty ground and stuck an arm under the car to fish out the missing flip flop.

Amanda remained unimpressed “Well, yes, it's 12:35 now,” she scribbled something on her paperwork, Virgil got the distinct feeling they were getting marked down, and unfairly in his opinion. He leaned across to the passenger seat so that he could catch their interrogators' attention.

“Yeah, sorry about that, we got held up in a holding pattern at the airport, and it took a bit of time to get the jet parked up.”

“See!” Jen rejoined “blame the pilot!” she pointed an accusatory finger at Virgil “It's got nothing at all to do with Graham's minuscule bladder and having to see every service station on the way. - ouch” she cried out as a family sized bag of Haribo bounced off her head, having been launched with force from the back window of the car by the wrongly accused passenger.

That distracted Amanda, “Pilot you say?” she stepped over Jen’s legs spread across the floor, and crouched slightly to enable her to cast a beguiling smile through the door and into the body of the car. Virgil had to resist the urge to physically back away.

Jen, as insightful as ever, saw his plight and stepped up to save the day. Well not literally, because she remained seated where she had landed, but reached up and tugged at Amanda's sleeve.

“Hey ‘Manda, where are we billeted then? Party of three, me and my posse, gotta get our beauty sleep before the big day tomorrow,” she chattered on, all the while tugging at the sleeve with the regular pace of a metronome. It was enough, and the beguiling smile was terminated and the gaze redirected with disgust and annoyance.

Their accommodation details were pulled off a pile clipped to the board, along with a printed itinerary of planned compulsory fun, and both were shoved into Jens face with a slight huff.

“Cheers! Right, Virg, grab the bags won't you my man?” Jen lifted herself off the floor with surprising grace, and took on all the airs of a grand lady. She dragged Graham out of the back door of the car, linked arms with him and stalked the pair of them off in the direction of the campsite. Virgil stifled a laugh, then hurried to catch up with the others when he realised that Amanda looked to be taking in her surroundings once again and he most definitely didn't want to be caught in her sights.

Chapter Text

Being an odd number of singletons on a couple heavy trip, the three intrepid explorers found they had been billeted in the kiddie accommodation. Their Yurt was built on two-thirds scale of the rest of them and as such the door only came up to Virgil's elbow and was only just as wide as his shoulders. It required some interesting shuffling and flinging the bags through the door ahead of him to get through. Inside there were two sets of bunk beds, and not a lot else apart from a very colorful rug and several strings of brightly coloured solar lights strung between the beds. Jen had wasted no time and was already trying to clamber up on to one of the top bunks. Her technique was unique, since there was no ladder to the bed, she had resorted to stretching her arms as far as they would go across the thin mattress and then kicking her legs about whilst trying to wriggle her torso onto the side of the bed. Graham looked at Virgil, Virgil looked at Graham, they contemplated the scene a moment longer before they both sprung into action. In this instance, to both grab out their phones and film Jens lack of progress. Once again Virgil was starting to hear the voice of grandma in his head, suggesting that he ought to help and not just stand laughing. Graham must have been equipped with a similar conscience, and he made the first move to assist their flailing friend. He let out a theatrical sigh, and trudged over to Jen, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

Graham was a builder by trade, he had studied archeology at university but soon decided there was far better money in providing the leafy suburbs with loft conversions and two story extensions. As such he quite often played up to the trustworthy, straight talking tradesman image, a spade was very much a spade to him. He would litter his conversation with so many “mate”s and “Guv”s as to beguile even the most stuck up member of the house and garden society, he was one small step away from doffing his cap or tugging respectfully at his forelock. But after a few drinks he could be found regaleing everyone with tales of roman hypocaust heating systems and the tensile strength of ancient italian terrazzo flooring.

However, his outward appearance even hint at these hidden depths, (the gold hotpants being just one of many other facets of his personality) many a joke had been made about how he was built like a brick shit house for hobbits. He was, in a word, stocky, in that solid way that spoke of mucky boots, manual labour and a steady diet of bacon butties. The early part of the summer had already given him a fairly ruddy complexion and was starting to bleach out his light brown hair to dusty blond at the dried out ends. Jen and Graham were roughly the same height, coming in around the 5ft 5 mark and Virgil wasn't too proud to admit that it was a nice change to be the tall one in the group, he was just waiting to be asked to reach something down from a shelf. Jen and Graham had made quite a pair at university. Where Graham looked as if he could stand firm in a hurricane, Jen was built more along the willowy lines, and her habit of gesturing with her whole body when she talked only added to the feeling of perpetual movement that surrounded her. The contrast was further highlighted by her milk pale complexion, which had only been exacerbated in recent years by far too many hours spent working in highly classified laboratories, that despite being scientifically advanced, usually lacked much natural daylight. It was all topped off with a mass of dark brown curls that usually arranged themselves anywhere from a pile on top of her head, down to a sprawling mass across her shoulders. She blamed a celtic heritage for both the unruly hair and the lack of melatonin. There was always at least one pencil or pen nestled in her hair at any one time, this was why, ever the problem solver, she had installed a stationary holder in her shower at home. Right now, however, her hair seemed to be mostly smuggling sequins left from her endeavors with the shoes.

So it was, with the forbearance of a long accustomed comedy double act, that Graham calmly lined himself up by Jens kicking feet, took hold of her ankles, lifted them to shoulder height and forcefully shoved. Jen was shunted up onto the bunk until her face was pressed to the canvas of the yurt wall. Her thanks were muffled but heartfelt.

“You do realise she's only going to want help getting down in a minute?” Virgil pointed out, amused.

“Yep, but she's up there and the snack bag is down here, are you following my logic here Virgil?” Graham said, snatching up a carrier bag he and Jen had stuffed full of food at the second from last service station. He started rummaging in the rustling bag, intent on finding something specific. “Oh hang on!”

“What?” asked Virgil, sensing by Graham's tone that something was amiss, “what's wrong?”

Quiet gigging started from the top bunk, and it only grew louder as Graham's scrabbling became more frantic.

“She has, hasn't she?” Graham declared to the ceiling, throwing his head back in despair

“Huh? What?” Virgil was still in the dark, but his brain was starting to run through potential disasters.

“Looking for this, were you?” asked Jen, playfully waving a bottle over the side of the bunk. “Obviously I took a hostage, needed to make sure you’d help me down again! I’m not as green as I am cabbage looking you know!” and here she cackled hard enough to secure herself a role for the Christmas pantomime season.

“What is it?” asked Virgil, Jen was still putting all her energies into her maniacal laugh that he was able to pluck the bottle out of her hands with ease. Turning the bottle around bought memories he didn't even know he had flooding back. Of nights in student flats, too loud conversations, foolish drinking games and epic hangovers. And this, this bottle, this beverage of the devil, had more often than not been right in the centre of it all. How this truly disgustingly sickly, high proof dessert wine had become a staple of many an evening, nobody could honestly say, although Virgil suspected that it had something to do with the high alcohol content and low price point. This was most definitely not something you would find gracing Lady Penelope's table.

“Oh Jen, why?” Virgil shook his head, “surely we could have picked up something better than this?”

“But Virgil, this has the memories! See, it's TRA-DISH-ON!” she dolled out each section of the word reverentially. “Also,” she carried on unphased by the look of disgust on Virgil's face “I want to see if I can get Amanada and her pals rat arsed on it, they've all been posting constantly about this wheatgrass detox thing they've all been on to get to their ideal weight, so they get get their arses in their party frocks, so I figure they've probably lost all ability to hold their liquor and I wish to test this theory in a scientific manner.”

“Bollocks” said Graham, he cracked open a packet of jaffa cakes from the shopping bag, “it was cheap and she spotted it at the service station and she has poor impulse control” he dug his hand in the bag again and pulled out a small neon pink soft toy dog with oversized glittery blue eyes, “ which also why we have this”. Virgil was glad he had waited in the car if this was an insight into their foraging trips.

“Well it was also meant to work as bribery to help me back down, but since I've lost possession of it, it looks like that's failed.” she looked to be eyeing up her options, “fine” she said decisively, having come to a conclusion in her own mind. “Trust falls it is then! - Catch” and with no further preamble she rolled herself off the upper bunk lengthwise. Both men had been standing by the side of Jens bed still taking in the gaudy label of the offending wine. Thankfully as her body tipped off the edge, instincts cut in and Virgil tossed the bottle onto the bottom bunk just in time to grab at Jens waist and legs as she dropped, narrowly missing a foot to the jaw. Graham got a face full of hair and managed to latch onto one of her arms and a fist full of jumper. Jen ended up with her legs higher than her head and twisted half around, but she had not come into crashing contact with the childish rug in the middle of the floor which everyone would agree was a success.

“Ok, that's it, you're getting a bottom bunk, we’re not doing that every time you want to get up in the night!” declared Virgil firmly, trying to put as much authority in his voice as possible.

It didn’t work, Jen seemed whole unrepentant, but she did at least agree to a lower berth with relative ease.

A little more time was spent making the space their own, which mostly consisted of emptying the snack bag out onto the floor and hanging their formal clothes from some of the cross beams of the tented ceiling so they didn't get too crumbled before the next day (Grandma Tracy would have been proud)

Homeliness achieved, Jen parked herself on the floor and set herself to the task of battle planning. She pulled out the events itinerary that Amanada had provided them with, plucked a pencil out of her hair and started annotating it energetically, occasionally muttering to herself.

“Oooh, flower crowns, yes please, woodfired pizza, okie dokie.”

Virgil looked across to Graham who was laid out on the other bottom bunk, scrolling through something on his phone.

“Pssssst,” he caught his attention and motioned towards Jen, he continued in a stage whisper, “should we be worried do you think?”

“Yes,” Graham replied bluntly, “you were at the stag do, we’re gonna be lucky if we make it through uninjured really,” having imparted this wisdom he shrugged and pulled himself up to his feet. “Jen, hows about we go and investigate rather than sitting inside just reading about it?”

“Awwh, you're no fun Gray, the plotting, I mean planning, is half the fun!”

“What is all that anyway?” asked Virgil, Jen passed the paper across, it contained a bewildering list of events, timed down to the minute. He scanned it trying to spot if bathroom breaks had been scheduled too. (They had. There were allocated shower slots for the following morning. Everyone had their allotted time; groups had been colour coded based on the predicted level of complexity of their wedding day ensembles. Amanda had made an educated guess at how long Virgil's hair took - she had been scarily accurate.) “Wow, you weren’t kidding about this planning. This is…..intimidating. I wasn't expecting this. The last time I went to a wedding I must have been about 10 and me and my brothers just got paraded around to have our cheeks pinched by random Aunts. Then we ran around the dance floor all night with our ties around our heads pretending to be ninjas with our cousins.”

“I still wouldn't rule that out Virgil,” said Graham giving him a wink, “I’m pretty sure the grannies will still be trying to give you a pinch, they just might aim lower now you’ve grown” Jen snorted at that, Graham held a hand up to the side of his mouth in a exaggerated whisper to Virgil, “and ten quid says she ends up wearing someone's tie as a headband before the end of the evening do”

“I’m not taking that bet, I think we should be betting on how many ties she ends up with.” Virgil replied.

“Ok, feeling slightly victimised now. It's not like I'm the only liability here. Speaking of which, shall we go and see if anyone has burnt themselves on the pizza oven or drowned themselves in the ‘off grid eco hot tub’ - whatever that is, sounds like a pond to me.” she unfolded her legs where she was pretzeled on the floor. Looking around for a convenient hand hold she caught sight of Virgil's belt loop, grabbed it and, much to his shock and surprise, hauled herself to her feet.

“Ooooof” he was forced to brace himself and grab a bedpost to stop himself from landing on his backside.

“Right ladies,” She cried, dusting off her jeans with her hands “you've got your first aid kit right Virgie-boy? Let's do this! All for one and one for all!” she held up her hand expectantly for a high five that didn't come. Undaunted Jen grabbed Virgil's wrist and raised it up to meet her own waiting palm with a resounding smack. “Come on guys I need you on your ‘A’ game!” without letting go of Virgil's hand she caught hold of Graham's arm and dragged them to the door. The dramatic flourish of their exit was slightly ruined by the small doorway which necessitated a decoupling of the three musketeers.

Chapter Text

As they rounded the corner of a barn building they could see the rest of the party milling around a central clearing. To one side a large domed pizza oven seemed to be belching out smoke enough for a steam locomotive. Whilst on the opposite side of the clearing a group of girls were trying to artfully pose themselves around the eco hot tub to take selfies, which seemed to most resemble a massive wooden barrel cut open and looked large enough to fit at least 6 people. Interestingly none of them seemed keen to get in the water itself despite being clad in an array of daringly constructed bikinis. A couple of them were wearing elaborate flower headdresses, which instantly caught Jens attention.

“Ooooh, flower crowns! Now you're talking! Come on, let's find out where they're hiding the gladioli”

Virgil trailed reluctantly behind, seeing all the other people was reminding him of the last trip and he was starting to get a feeling of impending doom. He must have been spending too much time with Gordon, because he could swear his squid sense of tingling, something was bound to go wrong soon. He found himself mentally calculating how long it would take him to get back to yurt and grab the first aid kit. This spiralled off into running through the inventory of what he had stashed in the compact kit. This time he had gone beyond the Scott-smother-brother-you’re-not-leaving-home-without-this standard issue emergency pack, adding in a handful of other things he thought might be useful, although he kept the princess plasters since to his mind: a plaster was a plaster and anyone in the position to require one shouldn't start getting picky.

Whilst Virgil's mind had been running emergency scenarios and stock lists, Jen had been making enquiries. She found out that the flowers and associated crafting kit was just inside the barn, and that they were all avoiding the water because nobody could get the fire started on the “off-grid tub”. She gave Virgil a pointed look, which she thought clearly said: “come on lumberjack, do your thing”, but it failed entirely and she noticed he was deep in thought and frowning at the middle distance. Rolling her eyes, Jen walked over and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Pppppssssst, earth to Virg, I think your skills are required over there,” she swept her arm towards the water filled barrel, and then hurried him along with a few more sweeps.

Virgil jumped out of his reverie, glanced where he was being directed and toddled over. It became quickly apparent that he wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting him to do. The gathered women seemed quite pleased to see him, so he offered to help them with their selfies as they all seemed to be trying to get an angle that made it look as if they were in the water without getting wet. Virgil didn't even pretend to understand their motivation, but camera angles he could comprehend, so he took the photos for them and was soon providing them with ample reels of instagram fodder.

Jen watched with amusement and realised she should maybe have been more specific, she sidled up beside him as he handed one phone back to its owner, only to have another one thrust at him.

“Well I see that you're solving the end issue there, but I had more in mind of fixing the initiating factor rather than the end symptom, cause and effect and whatnot.” Virgil gave her a blank look, thoroughly not catching her drift, Jen didn't let that put her off, she got that look a lot.

“They’re not getting in the tub because it’s one step off ice melt. Nobody has the magic touch with the log burner. How about it Virgil? Think you can encourage that big old wood burner there to buck it's ideas up? Not that you’re not doing a cracking job with the portraiture.”

“Oh, I did wonder why they were avoiding it. But then, I have brothers, the thought of sharing bathwater with anyone just takes me back to being a kid, and if it started bubbling you got out quick.” he said with a shrug and, handing the last phone back, went off to investigate the burner.

What he found there was a little unexpected. Graham was crouched by the burner, his face covered in soot, the crackling of a small fire could just be heard taking tentative hold of the wood.

“Are you alright there?” Virgil asked, holding back a laugh, the ash across his friend's face made him look like a raccoon.

“Oh eh, yeah, fine me, totally dandy!” He stood up stiffly, showing his knees were also covered in muck. “I thought I’d have a look, just a look mind, but it's never just a look is it? Always needs a prod, doesn't it? Some daft bugger had filled the thing to the top so it wouldn't draw, and the flue was clogged with crap, never been cleared by the looks of it” He went to brush his knees off, took one look at his hands and realised they were worse than his knees and sighed. “ugh, it's fixed now.”

“Where were you when everyone was burning themselves on the fires at the bachelor party? I could have done with your help” Virgil asked, whilst directing Graham by a hand on his shoulder towards an outdoor tap off the back of the barn.

“Choking, if I remember rightly, how inconsiderate of me” Graham deadpanned before rinsing the worst of the grime off his face, hands and knees ever so glad he had worn shorts. He flicked water droplets in Virgil's face. “Anyway, this is what being helpful gets you,” he gestured down to his still slightly grubby legs and soggy trainers. “That's enough of that, where's this pizza then?”

They both turned to look across the clearing where the pizza oven was still doing its best impression of a dragon with indigestion, black clouds swirling around it sluggishly.

“I think we might have cleaned you off a bit too soon, looks like your Dick Van Dyke act might still be needed.”

“Bert” said Graham

“Sorry? Is this some British insult I’m not aware of?”

“Ha, yeah: you Bert! No, you twat. Bert was the chimney sweep in Mary Poppins” Graham explained

“O…..K , well as interesting as that information is, I still think this one has your name written all over it.” and he gave Graham a little shove in the back towards the malfunctioning pizza oven.

“Oh come on, don’t make everyone realise I’m useful! My cover will be blown!” his wailing was interrupted when he got nearer to the oven and caught sight of what was going on, “.....hang on, what the bloody hell is that? Well that's never gonna work is it mate, you want the fire at back, and what are you even hoping to achieve with that? Hey? Give it here before you hurt yourself.” he swiftly confiscated a bottle of lighter fluid off one of the blokes fussing around the fire, a man who seemed to have more hair product than sense. In no time Graham was up to his elbows in yet more soot, grumbling about more blocked flues and batting away any hipsters that got too close with a long branch that he was using to scrape debris out of the oven. “No, back off, you don’t get to play with fire if this is what you do with it. Bloody mess.”

Virgil backed away to a safe distance, enjoying the fact that he was still perfectly clean and tidy for once, and had so far avoided getting additional chores. A string of cursing from the nearby treeline drew his attention. He watched as someone came tottering out from the bushes, he was the highly groomed man from earlier who had the lighter fluid taken off of him. Amanda went rushing over, a picture of concern, her steely persona put aside for now.

“Oh Babes, what's wrong, are you ok?” she asked as she tucked herself under his arm and led him to a bench as the man continued to swear and hobble. He was wearing a pair of tailored shorts that exposed a fair amount of thigh, a cynical person might have theorised that fake tan might have been utilised, and a pair of blindingly bright white sneakers.

“Oh Babes,” the man's voice carried across the open space, “ it burns Babes, it burns.” Professional curiosity couldn't stop Virgil from looking over now. From what Virgil could see the man didn’t look chronically injured, no blood obvious burns. The little medic in Virgil's head started supplying possible causes for his discomfort even the rest of his brain suggested that a melodramatic personality might be as much to blame. He sighed, and admitted to himself that there was no way he was going to be able to just sit to one side, he would have to go and check on the man. Giving one look at Graham to check that he hadn’t disappeared head first into the oven, Virgil headed across the grassy space, pulling his best customer service smile into place. He stopped about a meter away from the couple and did a sort of half wave to announce himself.

“Hey guys, is everything alright?”

And then it all came gushing out, how Daren, for that was his name, had gone off into the trees to relieve himself (no good reason was given for why he hadn’t just gone back to the toilet block, that would remain a mystery) and had managed to stumble straight into a bank of stinging nettles. The rash up his legs confirmed his story and also Virgil's suspicions that Daren was a bit of a drama queen. Thankfully after many years of practice Virgil could successfully internalise his eyerolls.

“Oh babes,” Amanda was cradling Daren’s head to her chest, making him bend awkwardly to achieve his, “you poor thing, don’t you worry, I’ll find you some doc leaves!” and with that she sprung to her feet and dashed off into the trees with such a turn of speed that Virgil didn't have time to mention that doc leaves worked mostly on a placebo effect.

“Well….”Virgil slowly backed away, in case the drama was about to be directed towards him instead, “just in case the doc leaves don't work, I’ll just go grab some cream for that. Be right back” Daren barely heard him, he had draped himself across the bench, his face buried into the crook of his arm. Virgil sighed, and re-evaluated Daren to a level 4 on John's unofficial scale of whinging, if he started kicking his heels it would tip him over to a 5, John was very precise with his qualifying criterias there was even an infographic explaining it.

He was just about to round the corner of the barn, when Jen bellowed at him from inside

“Hey Virg! You got anything for wasp stings? The flowers had squatters!” She was leading one of the bikini crew out of the barn.

Virgil for his part didn't even break his stride, “I’m just grabbing it now, park them over with Daren on that bench.” As he came level with Jen he said in lower lower tone “he’s the man mountain wailing like a Hollywood starlet” and Jen let one laugh escape before returning her attention to her sorry looking charge.

“Come on June, looks like there's a queue, but we’ll soon have you fixed up, quite why the wasp got so far before it went for the sting is fascinating, insect brains are truly amazing in their makeup though….” Virgil could tell Jen was settling in for the long haul, poor June would have her mind forcefully taken off her current woes by the liberal application of wittering, he had often watched Gordon use a similar technique.

When he got back to the bench, having decided to bring the whole first aid kit since he was obviously jinxed so might as well save himself some time and admit it, there was an actual queue waiting. In addition to Daren and June there were a few more bikini clad girls and a man with his hand wrapped in a towel. Amanda had returned and was vigorously rubbing crumpled leaves over Daren’s legs, which she had propped up on a camping chair. Daren seemed quite content with this attention, he was now sat up, but still kept his arm draped over his eye, as if a fainting spell might over take him at any moment.

Knowing that June and Daren were not in imminent danger, he tossed the bite cream to Jen and June before attempting to triage the rest, he didn't want to be caught out by something serious being drowned out by Daren’s dramatics.

“Right, what have we got?” he glanced around at his makeshift emergency room, wishing he had any of his brothers to help corral people so he could focus. He got a lot of blank looks, ok, he needed to be more specific. “Ok, is anyone bleeding? Is anything broken, has anyone lost consciousness? Is anyone lethargic?” he listed them off on his fingers

“What was the last one?” Jen asked “Sorry, wasn’t listening,”

“It's fine Jen, nobody is going to be accusing you of being lethargic,” he looked across at the gathered crowd again, still not getting much back.

“Har har, funny!” said Jen, “so yeah, in answer to your question, no bleeders, one burn, one bite, a few hangers on and a splinter,” she waved her arms around as she pointed out each one, “ over to you!” she grinned back at Virgil's gobsmacked face.

“Thanks,” was all he could muster by way of response. He gestured the burn victim towards a vacant camping chair and tried to focus on the task at hand.

The burn victim, not surprisingly, had been self-inflicted, he had touched the thing that Graham had specifically told him not to, and he looked more than a little shamefaced about it. Graham had made him sit with his hand in a bucket of water for 20 minutes before sending him Virgil's way. Thankfully it didn't look too bad, the burn and the resulting blush being of similar hues. A dose of stern eyebrows on top of Graham's previous lecture of “I told you not to bloody touch that!” and the patient was soon patched up and on their way.

Jen had helped June with applying the bite cream, disappearing into the nearest Yurt, it had turned out to be a rather complicated procedure due to the location of the sting and intricate lacing of the swimwear. Virgil was once again grateful for Jens help, as he couldn't see any way that scenario wouldn't have ended badly for him. Every now and again he could hear Jens voice through the tent opening,

“well would you look at that, how do they think these things out, and you managed to get into this on your own? puts me in mind of suspension bridges really, now they are incredible, high tensile cables….”

Daren had settled down to intermittent mewling, but Amanda had positioned herself by his head and was caressing his hair whenever he piped up, so Virgil left them to it.

Moving on to the splinter, Virgil found himself confronted with a perfectly manicured toe, in which a thorn had firmly planted itself. Looking around for inspiration on how to tackle the fiddly task, Virgil caught sight of the perfect thing. He quickly commandeered one of the girls from the impromptu photo shoot earlier, and got her to hold the selfie lighting ring over his patient's foot where it rested on his leg. Now perfectly illuminated he was able to extract the thorn with a set of tweezers, with the addition of one princess plaster they were ready to be released back into the wild. By now Jen and June had reammerged in a fit of giggles and the bite cream was passed across to Amanda so she could nurse her wounded soldier back to health. With Daren taken care of, Jen seized the moment and hauled Virgil off just as he had packed the last items away in his bag.

“Quick - Leg it Virgil, before anyone else gets wind that you're running a full minor injuries unit over here. Stay here much longer and the local mumsnet will get wind and you’ll have kiddies with chickenpox and tummy bugs turning up.” Virgil laughed and was about to point out that often when they were in remote locations they would have locals turning up for medical help, simply because they had no other infrastructure nearby. Gordon and Virgil had done a few stints helping the world health organisation distributing vaccinations to remote villages. Gordon claimed to hold a speed record for most number of inoculations given in under 10 minutes, which always set off the debate about quality over quantity and devolved into bad taste jokes quickly from there. But this anecdote would have to wait as both of them suddenly caught a whiff of the smell of cooked pizza on the breeze and they hastened their pace.

Graham had managed to coax the oven into behaving and had thrown a test batch in to make sure it was up to temperature. The resulting pizza turned out a little too “rustic” and overdone for anyone to want to artfully take pictures on for their ‘gram. Graham, Virgil and Jen were quite happy about this, as they stole the crispy pizza and retreated to a quiet corner of the clearing to scoff it in peace.

“well I think I’ve earned my keep,” Sighed Graham, lying back on the grass once the pizza was demolished. He had stripes of soot up his arms and more had settled into the creases around his eyes and somehow across the back of his neck. He scratched at his hair and a little cloud of dust floated off on the gentle breeze.

“You're not the only one!” Jen nudged him with a foot, “I’m part way to a nursing qualification and Virgil's one lamp shy of becoming the next Florence Nightingale.” She proceeded to give a breakdown of the misfortunes that had befallen the other residents of the camp.

“I think I can still hear Daren moaning,” said Virgil, following suit and stretching out on the grass.

Graham snorted, “ you should have told him you have to piss on the stings like jellyfish stings” he said “ would have been good for a laugh.”

“At least he's keeping Amanda distracted,” Jen pointed out,

“Awwwh Babes!” Graham mimicked Daren's drawled vowels

“Babes!” Jen squealed back, trying hard to capture the note of panic.

The pair dissolved into a mess of giggles, Virgil chucked at them as they kicked their heels on the grass, each trying to outdo the other with each subsequent “Babe”. They definitely did a good job at hiding their competency, but Virgil was very glad that they had his back, or he might have found himself working through an infinite chore list all weekend.

Chapter Text

Stag do part 6
The rest of the evening was relatively uneventful, Graham cajoled a fire pit into life and everyone was grateful for Amanda’s forethought in making sure there were marshmallows. The stereotype was complete when Daren pulled out a guitar and Virgil was sure that it was going to be a classic case of style over substance and was fully expecting Daren to massacre some popular tunes. However, he was to be proven wrong, as Daren, for all his posturing and posing, was actually skilled and filled the air with the sort of light acoustic music that still allowed the conversation to flow. It also had the added benefit of lulling Amanda out of her drill sergeant persona. Although she still made sure to pointedly remind everyone of their allotted shower times in the morning, and the departure time for the minibuses to the wedding venue. Virgil found that time zones, a few beers and the promise of a night's sleep without the fatal words “ we have a situation” were enough to have him willingly turning in for the night.

Folding himself up onto the upper bunk Virgil was reminded of the fold down berths in Thunderbird Two, although without the background humm of engines it was strangely quiet. He stretched out his legs, or tried to, and was not for the first time reminded of Brain’s foresight in making the bunks on Two just that little bit longer than a standard single, he flopped onto his back, and noticed that went for the width too.

It was possibly not a “glam” as the term “glamping” implied, but Virgil had put up with worse, at least he didn’t have to share the space with one of Gordons fragrant wetsuits. He rolled back onto his side as he admitted to himself that he really didn’t fit on his back and the canvas of the yurt wall was rough against his arm. He tucked his knees up only to feel a sudden stabbing in his hip, which caused him to roll onto his back with a huff.

“Will you quit wriggling about up there, have you got ants in your pants or something?” This time the jab got him in his lower back and made him grunt. “ you're making this thing wobble every time you move, and I really don't fancy being crushed to death,” Jen whispered up at him harshly.

Graham rolled over on his bunk across the way, “Playboy millionaire crushes hardworking research scientist to death, stay tuned for the full story!” Graham mumbled through his pillow.

“I resent that! Whoever said Jen was hard working?” retorted Virgil with a grin.

“Indeed” joined Jen “and the only thing our Virg is any good at playing is Jenga right now - quit wriggling before this whole thing becomes matchsticks”

“Lardy layabout engineering graduate smothers passingly competent scientist?” offered Graham from within his cocoon of blanket. “Forgotten son of Jeff Tracy kills innocent young woman in horrific bedroom disaster?” he continued.

“Hey - forgotten? I’m not forgotten, that's John!” Virgil just about managed to maintain the hurt tone until the end of the sentence.

“Johns the ginge right?” asked Jen, sticking her head out the side of her bed to peer up at Virgil “I remember him, sorry Virgil, that means you must be the forgotten one, sucks to be you.”

“Also” said Virgil, mostly ignoring Jen, “are we just glossing over that innocent young woman bit?”

“Hey! I got two out of three, that's pretty good odds, shut-your-face!” Jen replied

“Speculation is rife after billionaire wastrel refuses to comment on the bedroom antics that resulted in the death of lone girl” Graham continued to rattle off possible headlines unperturbed by the heckling he was receiving.

“Mouthy builder caught in savage attack, innocent bystander or was it a provoked attack? Stay tuned for more details” Virgil countered and then wriggled some more just for good measure. It caused more creaking and a little shower of dust to float down.

“Aggggh, I’m gonna die Gray!” squealed Jen. “Make sure my epitaph is beautiful, put in some bits about charity work and humanitarian stuff.” she waved her hands in Grahams direction to make sure he was paying attention

“So, lie you mean?” Graham answered

“Yeah, but like, tastefully, you know?” Jen confirmed.

They were interrupted from further linguistic wrangling by Amanda's harsh whisper from outside the Yurt entrance: “Can you please all keep your voices down, we have a long day tomorrow!”

They all tried to suppress their laughter but it came out more of a spluttering mess and only caused them to laugh more.

“You heard her” said Graham after a moment “shut the fuck up Jen” Jen hurrumphed at the unfair victimisation.

What followed was some frantically whispered bickering between Jen and Graham as to who should sleep where, only snippets of the debate making their way up to Virgil.

“You go here”
“No”
“Huuurrpum, …..psssst”
“why don't you go on the top one?”
“.....can't reach”
“well how am I going to reach you ninny?”
“Fsssake…..”

After a while Virgil decided some logical thinking should be applied to the problem if they were ever going to get some sleep. He quickly climbed down from his bed, pyjama clad legs waving past Jens head only briefly, and padded across to the snack laden bedside table. Sweeping the assorted snacks onto the floor he picked up the table and bought it back to the side of the bunk beds. The whispered bickering had continued throughout this exercise and Virgil cut in with an aptitude honed through years of splitting up squabbling siblings.

“Jen, come here.” she stopped mid flow in whatever she had been saying and clambered out of bed into the middle of the room. Once she had joined him Virgil pointed to the table and gestured that she should step on it, which she did, once she had hitched up her overly long pyjama trousers to free her feet from within the cuffs. Virgil then waved his arms further to shoo her onto the top bunk.

“Awwh fantastic! That was much easier, cheers Virg!” Jen was ecstatic in her new lofty perch and was shushed by Graham.

Virgil rolled himself into the vacated bottom bunk and sighed now that peace had once again settled within the Yurt. Relaxing, Virgil let himself sink further into the mattress and started to drift off to sleep, only for an ear splitting creek to tear its way through the silence as Jen rolled over on her bunk.

Virgil jolted awake and shouted out gleefully “See! It's not just me!” only to be silenced by more furious shushing from Amanda outside the tent again.

Chapter Text

The next morning Amanda had bought the clipboard back into play. Breakfasts were being deployed, and shower slots enforced. Virgil found himself hustled away from a bacon bagel in order to complete his ablutions. Fairly confident in his ability to shower in under 3 minutes thanks to bitter experience on Thunderbird Two, Virgil was less sure about how well a speed test wet shave might end up. Scott had often been heard proclaiming that he was able to be parade ground ready in under 4 minutes including a cold water shave thanks to his airforce days. Virgil thought Scott was full of shit, but even so he found himself hoping he might be able to channel some of Scotts speed that morning. Clearly having a time limit looming over him worked, as he made it out with 4 minutes to spare, both ears still attached and his bagel still waiting for him.

With several hours still remaining until the minibus pick up time, Graham and Virgil went to hide in the yurt in case Amanda tried to organise them, she had press ganged several individuals already into making buttonhole flowers out of leftovers from the flower crowns.

They were both peacefully chilling out on their bunks, scrolling through their phones and chatting about not much when in came Storm Jen, with a towel wrapped around her head.

“Alright Lads! Quite comfortable are you? I may have made a mistake, I thought I’d wash my hair, absolute rookie mistake” She was rummaging through her bag clearly hunting for something, dumping things out on the floor. “Ahh balls,” She picked up her bag and shook it out in frustration. “Ok, fine Jen,” she said to herself as she straightened up “think around the problem Jen” and with that she stormed out of the yurt again.

“What was all that about?” Virgil looked across to Graham, who just shrugged.

A few minutes later Jen came swooping back in brandishing a fork. She parked herself down crossed legged on the floor and proceeded to drag the fork through her curls, still muttering and cursing under her breath. The two men found themselves drawn into watching her, trying to work out what the hell she was up to. They shared a glance between them over Jens head, one of them was going to have to ask, Graham lost the battle of the eyebrow raises and scowls.

“Hey, Ariel, what are you playing at with that Dinglehopper?” he asked, pulling himself up into a sitting position. Both Virgil and Jen were giving him matching quizzical looks, “what? Little Mermaid, come on that one was obvious. Anyway, Jen, Fork, Hair, Why?”

“Wet curls - must be tamed - forgot to bring a comb. So - Fork, obviously”

“So what? You're planning on going dressed like a cutlery drawer?” Graham attempted to clarify.

“Har har. You got a better idea?” she held up the fork and shrugged her shoulders in defeat.
Well, I would have thought Virgil might have a comb, that bouffant didn't style itself. The pair of them turned and pinned Virgil with a piercing stare.

“Cough up the goods Virg,” said Jen, waving the fork in a threatening manner.

Knowing resistance was futile he dug a slightly battered plastic comb out of his wash bag and handed it over. Jen tested the weight of it in her hands as one might weigh the balance of a sword. Then she set to forcefully dragging it through the mass of dark curls with a look of grim determination on her face.

“Bloody Hell Jen, either you’ll scalp yourself or the comb will break, give it here.” Graham took the comb off Jen and dragged her by her shoulder so she was parked with her back against the side of his bunk. “What were you planning on doing with it once you had pulled half your hair out?” he asked.

“Ummm, hadn't really thought that far, sort of twist it up and stuff a flower in maybe? Oh,...” and she crawled across the floor and patted through her spread out belongings again. “ Only I didn't remember to pack hair bands either.

“What did you actually bring Jen? Don't think I hadn't spotted you’d pinched my socks” Graham accused sternly.

“Flipflops mostly” Virgil supplied with a grin from his place of safety on his bunk.

“Ugh, If I just throw a sickie and hide, will you guys bring me cake back?” Jen whined.

“Don’t be a drama queen, why don't you just plait it?” asked Graham

“Don't be daft, I’d need six arms to wrestle this nest into braids. No, it's a lost cause, I'm just going to hide here looking like a drowned rat, go on without me.” and she threw herself onto her back sprawled across the rug.

Graham sighed, “Jen, pull yourself together and get your bum over here, if you promise to wriggle less than a 7 year old, I’ll do you a french plait, now shift yourself.”
Jen cautiously shunted herself across the floor, fixing him with a raised eyebrow like she didn't quite believe him.

“Are you taking the piss, because if you're about to tie my hair in a knot, I can do without it frankly.” she said, lacking some of her usual bounce.

“No I’m not taking the piss, do you want help or are you just going to keep wailing?” Graham didn't really leave room for argument.

Jen shifted herself one bum shuffle nearer, still frowning.

“Look at that lack of faith, would you Virgil?” Graham appealed to Virgil to be his witness. “I’ll have you know I come from a long line of hairdressers, Granny, Mum, Uncle, Sister. I knew my way around a hood dryer before I could ride a bike. Anyway, my nieces stay over mine when my sister works Saturdays at the Salon, and this is nothing compared to picking sweeties out of the curly haired 4 and 7 year olds at bedtime. - Word of advice, don't build an extension on your house, it might increase the property value, but the rest of your extended family seem to think they have the right to move in. So, anyway, sit down and behave and I might let you watch cartoons on my phone while I do it.” Jen mutely shifted to sit between his knees as directed and wisely chose not to comment further.

“Virgil, make yourself useful, have you got anything in your kit that we could tie the ends off with?” They dismissed compression bandages and were just contemplating cutting up a sock or liberating a boot lace when Virgil spotted some cable ties lurking at the back of his bag, which Graham deemed acceptable. He pulled one tight on the end of Jens' now plaited hair and borrowed Virgil's penknife to deftly slice off the leftover plastic tie bracing it with a thumb. He tucked the end of the plait up in on itself at the base of her neck,so that the tie was hidden by the plaited curls.

“Should we be worried as to why you have cable ties?”Jen asked

Virgil was all wide eyed innocence.
“Reasons,...” he stated, and was about to start listing off all the useful things cable ties could be used for when running quick repairs or maintenance when he was cut off by Graham exuberantly shouting:

“Done!” He cuffed Jen across the shoulder making her rock from side to side on her bottom, “Cinders can go to the ball!” and he threw the comb at Virgil and flopped back down on his bed.

“Cheers Gray,” Jen glanced at the time on her phone and then cross referenced against the now very grubby itinerary, “ooh and just in time for ‘makeup and bucks fizz’ in the big yurt, I’m just hoping if I sit still long enough, someone might do my face.”

“Do what to your face?” Asked Virgil, ever the straight man in this comedy act.

“Dunno, I’m hoping for something sparkly!,” she dug out her glitter covered shoes, scattering a few loose sequins in the process, and grabbing a few other components of her outfit, left the tent with a flourish. And peace reigned once more.

Chapter Text

Things got progressively more frantic as the departure time neared. There last minute dress alterations and repairs, yes of course there was a small sewing kit in Virgil's kit bag, that had become a standard essential after the time Gordon split his pants that one time, and the second and third times…Honestly there had been a collective sigh of relief when Lady Penelope introduced him to a proper tailor for formal wear, Virgil was sick to death of sewing clothes back together in disabled toilets. An emergency tie tying help point was set up, since of all the men present only 2 appeared to know how to tie a tie, and Virgil wasn't entirely sure that the way he did his own didn’t more closely resemble a climbing knot, but it seemed to do the trick. Graham sidestepped the whole issue by donning a pink chintz patterned premade bow tie and matching pocket square alongside a pale blue linen suit which he optimistically claimed would stay clean.

Virgil was beginning to feel a bit staid and dull in his dark blue suit, but Lady Penelope had assured him it would be appropriate, and he would much rather blend in the background than stand out for the wrong reasons. He wished he had put more thought into the accessories, rather than just nabbing one of Scotts on his way out. It had felt like fulfilling a younger brother's duty, stealing stuff from the elder sibling, it wasn't often that Virgil got to play up to the part, and sometimes it was just fun to mess with Scott. He laughed when he noticed that what he had taken for a raised diamond pattern woven into the silk, was actually the silhouettes of very tiny jets flying in close formation across the fabric. The only real splash of colour was his bright green socks, living in boots most of the time, he had forgotten that socks could even be visible, but he was going to have to just live with it, because his darker socks had somehow disappeared from his bag, he had his suspicions and they were Jen shaped. Whilst waiting outside their Yurt for Jen to join them, Virgil remembered to fish out his cufflinks from where they were stashed in the breast pocket of his jacket. These he hadn't stolen from Scott, these were his own, tiny little silver Thunderbird 2s. A gift from Lady Penelope, years old, from when she had been trying to bribe him into attending a charity function. Although the fact that she had been scandalised to find he didn't own cufflinks may have also been a contributing factor. Virgil chuckled at the memory as he fiddled with the tiny planes and even smaller button holes.

With only minutes to spare Jen came bounding out of the main yurt apparently satisfied with her shimmering eyeshadow. She had stuffed a spare gladioli into her hair, further masking the cable tie, and it picked out the colours on her dress perfectly. It wasn't until she had stopped bouncing and spinning to show it off, that Virgil was able to notice that the pattern picked out in the fabric was actually made up of lots of little dinosaurs in primary colours on a dark background. Jen had been right, the sequin shoes really did set it off well.

“Don't you two scrub up well? Who's got room in a pocket for my phone?” Jen asked

“You're literally carrying a bag Jen” Graham pointed out the small clutch swinging at her side.

“Yeah, but that's full” she said, like that was the most obvious thing in the world. She swung it round to her front and opened it up so the insides were on display. “See, oh yeah these were for you guys,” she pulled out two slightly crumpled flowers to match the one in her hair, and stuffed them in their respective jacket button holes. Virgil wasn't sure Lady Penelope would have approved of wet flower stems on savile row tailoring, but he appreciated the touch of colour. The flowers now relocated, Virgil spotted something else in Jen’s bag as it hung open.

“Jen, are those my socks?” he asked

“Maybe…. They’re in case my shoes rub.” This only earnt her a raised eyebrow from the socks original owner. She ferreted further into the tiny bag, “ and tissues for the ceremony, because I will cry, and lip balm and a chocolate bar - in case the canapes are rubbish, so yeah, full.” She looked back up and gave them both a big grin, “so, who's got room for my phone?” She plucked first at Graham's jacket to expose the inside breast pocket, but finding none she dropped the fabric. Next she zoned in on Virgil instead, doing t-rex grabby hands. Virgil laughed and held out the jacket to allow her to drop her phone in the pocket; he had learnt long ago that the path of least resistance was often easiest.

“Fine,” he said “but this goes the same as the bunk bed, in or out, not in and out every 5 minutes.” Trying to channel as much command in his voice as possible.

“Promise” Jen said solemnly with her hand on her heart, “Right! Let's go, bagsie a window seat!”

When they arrived at the country house Jen and Graham oooh-ed and Ahhhh-ed as the mini bus pulled up the sweeping gravel drive. Once they had all tumbled out of the transport they followed a path around to a pretty little gazebo in the gardens, which was flanked by rows of dainty chairs. Jen linked arms with her co-conspirators and dragged them at full speed to make sure they got good seats.

“Oi, Graham, grab some of those bags of confetti, we can't go into battle unarmed. Oh I should have bought my leftover sequins!”

Virgil rolled his eyes,”No, no you shouldn't have, nobody would have thanked you for that”

“Spoil sport!” but Jens huff was half hearted at best, there was far too much else to distract her right now as Graham handed across a cone full of tastefully dried flower petals.

The ceremony was touching, the bride was beautiful and Jen predictably did cry, scattering tissues from her bag as she hastened to extract them without tipping out the socks. In the end she gave up trying and snatched Graham's pocket square, shushing him when he tried to protest. Somehow when the confetti was finally deployed, Virgil seemed to end up with more of it in his hair than the bride, and the innocent looks Graham and Jen were giving him were far too practiced to be wholly believed. Virgil tried to shake out as many dried rose petals as possible but some still made their way down the back of his shirt where they were just going to have to remain.

After the ceremony Jen took the reins again and led Graham and Virgil in a beeline towards a row of tables laden with drinks for the wedding guests to toast the happy couple. The guests milled around on a paved patio area, making small talk and admiring the gardens all whilst mentally wondering when on earth something other than a canape might be served. Jen may have ducked behind some topiary bushes to scoff down her emergency chocolate bar, but nobody would have been able to prove it.

Graham had gravitated towards a man who had been talking rather loudly about a barn conversion he had bought in the home counties with a view to doing it up for him and his wife. Virgil tried to place the where he knew the wife from, and it wasn't until Jen did a little mime involving hopping and feigning a sprained ankle that he could place her as one of the office friends from the bachelorette party. It felt like the husband was really trying hard to impress, maybe he was a little out of his comfort zone only really being a plus one for the day. None of this bothered Graham, he heard renovation work and zoned right in there. Always alive to the possibility of securing future work, he was dropping “mates” at a rate of ten per minute, laying on the lovable, trustworthy workman persona with a trowel. He may have even dropped in a few “ yeah, you gotta be careful of all those cowboy builders out there, not like me mate, you know what I mean?” just for good measure. Terms like “reclaimed oak”, “Welsh slate” and “lime render” were littered through the conversation to firm up the restoration idea of a refurbishment, because everyone knows restoration is more complicated than just decorating, and therefore has more prestige. Eventually even Graham was unable to maintain the topic of timber framed construction methods any longer and the separate groups broke away to continue mingling and generally filling the time until lunch.

“Right, Selfie time.” Jen declared “I need to send a photo to my mum, to prove that I’ve actually left Geneva and ‘gone out in the fresh air for once’” she liberally applied the air quotes over the last bit. “Graham, Get over here, it's selfie time, quick before you mess up your sunday best. Graham dutifully strolled over, with some carefully balanced canapes in his hands that looked likely to threaten the cleanliness of his suit at any moment.

She nudged Virgil in the elbow and fished out her phone from his inside jacket pocket, ignoring his spluttered protests about personal bubbles after some fumbling around with the pin she quickly took some snaps to appease her mother.

She was just about to put the phone back when it received a message

“Oh bugger, not again, this isn't my phone. Hey Virg, you've got a message, you might want this back” She said handing Virgil the phone.

He looked equal parts confused and surprised “Hey, what? When did you?“ he took the phone and spotted a message from John, “how did you unlock it in the first place?” he asked Jen.

“Oh, I just bypassed your lock modes, is that not meant to be possible? Sorry, I spent so much time locked out of passwords that I’ve kinda got used to working around them, it's rather simple really.”

Slightly shocked, Virgil added an asterisk next to the mental note he already had about not letting Jen and Brains meet and added John and EOS to the parameters.

Virgil started to frown as he read the message from John, it was just letting him know that there was an incident on a North Sea oil rig that Scott and Gordon were going to attend, and letting Virgil know that he didn't need to worry if he saw anything about it on the news reports. John knew that otherwise he was likely to get an ansty Virgil calling him on the pretext of just checking everything was alright, and did he need to come back early. So John had taken to a more preemptive approach when dealing with brothers who were supposed to be on holiday. He had learnt through bitter experience that radio silence only made them worry more, and would more than likely end in Scott turning up at the rescue site under his own steam, still in his holiday clothes having commandeered a private plane, (it may have only happened the once, but that was once too often in Johns opinion, so he put processes in place to mitigate the chances of a recurrence).

“Everything alright?” Jen asked. Virgil looked up, startled from his thoughts.

“Oh no, it's alright, it's just John checking in, he likes to touch base if any of us go away at all.” his face split into a grin, the sort that spoke of long held brotherly mockery, “We think he's got abandonment issues really, from all the, umm, working away he does.” It was clearly a longstanding family joke.

“What a caring and supportive bunch you are,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Send him the photo so he can be jealous of the fun we’re having!” Virgil chuckled, shrugged and then forwarded the selfie to a group chat, knowing it would really annoy Gordon if he was stuck in the freezing North Sea.

Scott and Gordon spotted the image just as they were packing up several hours later, by which time the wedding guests had made it through the wedding breakfast, and had been released back onto the terrace while the function room was cleared and re-organised for the later festivities.

Gordon squinted at the image, making Scott worry about when everyone's next sight test was due.

“Hey, I know where that is,” Gordon poked at the image, pulling at its edges to enlarge the building behind the figures. “Penny took me there once,” he looked across and caught Scotts eye and gave a wicked grin worthy of the devil, “Shall we give them a fly past?”

“Hell yeah!” agreed Scotts, his grin equally demonic.

Virgil received another message just as the sun is starting to think about delivering a sunset across the open countryside surrounding them.

The message was from Scott and simply read:“Thunderbird flight formation ETA 15 mins coming from due North. Gordon suggests the south patio for the best view.”

“You've got that frown on again Virgil” said Jen, nudging his elbow a bit more forcefully this time. “Whats up?”

“Umm, I think we're going to get a flypast in about 14 min now.” he held the phone out to her and Graham so they could see the message. “Should we mention it to someone? Or let it be a surprise?”

Virgil noticed that they both seemed wholly unphased by the Thunderbird namedrop. But then, they weren’t stupid, there had been enough times that his familys names and faces had been out there in connection to Internation Rescue, they must have known. He had just never wanted to make a big thing about it himself. It made him even more grateful for his friends for being interested in him and not International Rescue. It was nice to just spend time being Virgil and not Thunderbird 2. It was odd that this revelation should come about because of said Thunderbirds coming crashing onto the scene, but at least it wasn't an emergency situation necessitating the colliding of his two worlds.

“I’ll let that master of ceremonies bloke know, he looks like he's itching to start the speeches or dances or something, so he should probably hold fire for a few mins.” and he weaved his way through the party guests towards a rather dapper gentleman who had been keeping the proceedings on track for most of the day, and did indeed look like he was about to clear his throat for some sort of announcement.

“Ohh and I’ll nab the photographer,” said Jen “they love that sort of thing” and with that she also left to complete her self appointed task.

So that only left Virgil the task of grabbing the three of them some drinks from the bar, and finding a good spot on the terrace. Quickly glancing up to work out North and the expected flightpath he parked himself by a low wall where the patio met the formal gardens, his back towards the house.

Jen came out to the middle of the paved area, she had apparently managed to nab not just the photographer but the bride and groom also. Virgil watched as she chattered away whilst leading them into a prime position. The photographer appeared to be in on things as he also shuffled around to what Virgil could tell would be an excellent photo opportunity.

They didn't have long to wait, soon a green spec was visible on the horizon, Virgil pointed it out to Graham as he joined him at the wall. Two was going at a fairly sedate pace keeping comparatively low to the ground, clearly trying to give everyone a chance to spot them, trust Gordon and his flare of the theatrical. Virgil figured Gordon and Scott must both be in Two, if they had needed all her equipment for the North Sea incident.

Everyone around them had now spotted the great green ship and were pointing and dragging their phones out, excited cries of “Thunderbirds” and “International Rescue” could be heard from the crowd. Although Virgil frowned when he heard one voice proclaim “ooh look, is it the red arrows?” - yes, it was Daren, not the brightest bulb in the room.

It was strange to be on this side of things, he had seen his brothers fly in at rescue sites before, but there was always a lot more panic in the raised voices then, now it was just pure awe and excitement. It was nice to take a moment to appreciate his bird in flight. In fact it was a novelty to watch it fly without the pang of having been grounded due to injury. It cemented the opinion in his head that they all needed to make sure they got more down time to recharge, not just injury time on the bench. An item was added to his growing mental list to chase Scott off the island for a break next.

As he was thinking about his over stressed elder brother, a crack-boom, in the distance announced the arrival of Thunderbird one, as it screeched through the sound barrier catching and over taking Thunderbird Twos stately progression. Well that answered that one, Scott was most definitely not aboard Two. There were Ooooohs and Aahhhhhs as the silver rocket cut through the sky. Virgil tracked it with his eyes, and watched as she looped back around to then come back alongside Thunderbird Two and match her pace.

“Show off,” thought Virgil, but couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his lips.

Once both ‘birds were overhead Thunderbird 1 moved slightly away from her bigger sister, then in true Scott Tracy style, the rocket plane barrel rolled around the body of the cargo plane before coming back up into position just above it. Virgil could just picture the smug look on Scotts face as he completed that move, and he could almost hear Gordons squawking at the blaring proximity sensors within Two. Choice words were sure to be exchanged across the airwaves right now.

A little cheer went up from the crowd, and more than a few champagne flutes held up to toast the magnificent machines.

Virgil let out a soft chuckle, “showboating hotshot pilot” he said and shook his head. As he looked across at Jen she was holding his own phone up to him, apparently taking a photo,

“When did you get that again?” he asked

“Meh, I’m a ninja, it was in your pocket, but look, I got a great one of you with the big green one behind you!” She held the phone out so he could see. He was just taking the phone back as a change in the engine noise had him turning around. Thunderbird two had moved to hover over a nearby field turning so her nose was pointing toward the country house. A second later, Thunderbird Two waggled its wings, tipping its whole body from side to side in a surprisingly jaunty move for such a big machine.

“Awwh look, its waving!” cried Jen bobbing up and down.

“That or the pilots having a sneezing fit” added Graham bluntly, Jen punched him in the arm, he had the common decency to pretend it hurt.

Virgil pulled up the comms connection to Two on his phone, it wasn't as smart as his IR comms, but it worked for his purpose, “Gordon!” he growled down the line. Instantly the plane stopped its little dance and swept away in a graceful arch, making its way south once again. Virgil watched as the green dot disappeared on the horizon, just enjoying the view, yes, more time off needed to be added to all their schedules.

Chapter Text

After the excitement of the surprise fly past the party got back into its own rhythm. A band had been booked and set themselves up in the garden room overlooking the terrace, allowing the music to be enjoyed indoor and outdoors. The British knew better than to bank on the weather staying nice for any length of time. As the sun dipped even lower fairy lights started to flicker into life, casting everything in a dreamy glow. The three friends stayed sitting on their wall, letting the sounds of the gathered guests wash around them, content for now to be observers rather than active participants in the activity. They had been talking about this and that, flitting over topics as the fancy took them, nothing too soul searching or taxing. Virgil was finally able to put his finger on what felt so familiar, this feeling of being relaxed, it felt like home. Even if he was trussed up in formal tailoring and shoes that pinched his toes. Even if he was on the other side of the planet, and on a continent that he had never called home. Right now he didn't have to BE anything for anyone. He wasn't the reassuring rescue operative, or the calming medic, or the peacekeeper brother, or the dutiful grandson, or the in control business person at Tracy Industries, or the benevolent Charity supporter at some glitzy gala. For now, however briefly, he could just be Virgil Tracy, and that was rare, even amongst his family. He leaned back on his hands, sighed, and tried to savour the moment, because if he was sure of anything in life, it was that this would not last long.

“Hey Virgil, What time do ducks wake up?” Jen shattered the silence before Virgil's train of thought had a chance to get too maudlin. A suspicious person might even have thought it was intentional.

“Huh? Why?” asked Virgil, suddenly suspicious.

“At the quack of dawn! - god you're useless” Jen carried on swinging her legs over the side of the low wall. Virgil groaned, and added Gordon to the list of people Jen wasn't allowed to meet.

Graham picked up Jens drink and took a tentative sip, “ahh, that explains it, who let her at the rum? rum means Puns, nothing for it but to roll with it now” and he shrugged before taking a larger swig of the drink.

“Hey, Jen, why do ducks have feathers?” Virgil nudged Jen in the elbow, like she had been doing to him all day.

“Well apart from the necessary lift and thrust elements required for flight you mean?” she replied

“Ahh, we’re only at science tipsy though, that's good to know,” Graham nodded sagely and calmly returned her drink to her. “I don’t need to confiscate this then,” Jen held the glass up to eye level, noting the depleted contents and glared at Graham.

“Hmmmm,” she seemed unconvinced, “taxing this for my own good were you?”

“Obviously” Graham was completely unperturbed, busying himself with finishing off his own drink.

“Hmmmm, if you say so. So yes, why do ducks have feathers?” She pivoted her attention back to Virgil whilst keeping a strong grip on her glass.

“You sure you wanna know?” Virgil asked, “because this is like a Pandora's box, you can't go back once the puns are released.” she nodded very solemnly, so Virgil continued. “Ok, ducks have feathers to cover their butt quacks” he delivered the line as seriously as he could manage, but the combined groans of despair from his two friends soon had him breaking into rumbling laughter. Who knew all those flight hours with Gordon would come in useful, Virgil could definitely hold his own when it came to bad jokes.

“Ugh, That's enough of that,” Graham jumped down from the wall and attempted to brush down his now slightly dusty suit. “I'm going to the bar, Great aunt Thurza was threatening to bust some moves when the band starts, who's coming?”

“£5 says she manages the splits” offered Jen, skipping after him.

“No deal, I saw her limbering up earlier, splits have got to be baseline moves.” The pair strolled away debating breakdancing moves.Virgil stayed sat with his thoughts once more. But before they could drift of into anything melancholy Jen was hollering at him across the terrace

“Hey, Virg, you've gotta see this!”

Virgil would later wonder if they were aware of just what panic they were able to induce in him with a statement like that. His brain had rushed ahead, supplying images of all the sort of accidents that could possibly happen with a group of inebriated adults in a country house. Within an instant he was back on his feet and racing across to Jen and Graham.

“Look!” Jen waved her arms wide, directing Virgil's attention to the function room. And what did our intrepid rescuer see before him? Carnage and destruction? Virgil's shoulders visibly relaxed as his eyes were met with a view of a dance floor covered in pearlescent balloons each with a little LED light in, causing them to glow softly. “It's like being in the clouds!”said Jen, as she ran into the balloons, kicking them every which way across the dancefloor.

“Yeah, yeah, beautiful.” said Graham flatly, “sod that, I’ve found pick and mix” he stuck his arm straight out, pointing rigidly at pretty little cart that had been decked out in bunting and was crammed full of pretty glass jars and bowls all filled to the brim with pastel coloured candies of every variety.

“You know that's meant to be for the kids, right?” Virgil said, waving a hand in front of his friends' glazed eyes.

“Awwh, you're kidding me?” Graham whined, throwing his head back.

“The little character activity packs are a bit of a give away,” Virgil pointed out

“Shut-up, I was well up for a bit of colouring in, maybe a wordsearch.”

“Do you want a hand with the tricky words?” that earned him a shove in return.

In the time the two men had been discussing the array of sweets, Jen had been befriended by the flower girl, the pair of them bonding over their shared love of sequins. Jen went on to explain the basics of static electricity to the little girl, namely through the aid of a practical demonstration. The mischievous pair sneaked up behind Graham, where he was sulking at the bar and generally bemoaning his lack of sweeties. Once they reached their prey Jen lifted the little girl up onto a bar stool and the pair of them proceeded to forcefully rub a couple of balloons on Graham's head, much to his annoyance. There may have been squirming, but Jen had managed a fairly effective lock hold to keep Graham in place simply by twisting his wrist around under his arm. Virgil very wisely edged his way further down the bar, making sure to get several aged relatives between himself and the chaos unfolding. Once the balloons were charged to her satisfaction, Jen began sticking them to a nearby wall, and with the addition of some drinking straws from the bar proceeded to try and construct a passable double helix. She managed to amass a small crowd of children, who presumably thought she was some sort of childrens entertainer. But as interesting as an impromptu science demonstration could be, her audience soon began to lose interest, and instead started picking off the balloons she had carefully placed, sticking them to each other instead. From this point it quickly devolved into a game of tag across the balloon strewn dancefloor. To give her credit, Jen kept up with the chase for a while, dragging Virgil and Graham into the chase, but soon had to admit defeat due to less than suitable footwear. The only drama came when Virgil had to lug an antique sideboard out from the wall after one of the children managed to get themselves wedged behind it, but the individual was soon safely extracted and back to running around like sugar powered idiot, (similar to a lot of his rescuees now that Virgil came to think about it).

When all three of them retired from the fray Jen had somehow managed to gain one necktie wrapped around her head and she was unable to provide a good explanation as to where it had come from, she blamed the kids, or a waiter, she wasn't too sure. Jen flopped down on a bar stool and stole a large slurp from Graham's drink in retaliation for earlier. Lifting the glass to eye level, and content that a similar amount had been stolen, she gave the glass back to its owner and declared the beverage to be disgusting. Every now and again one of the children would sneak up to the group at the bar and deposit a sticky handful of sweets next to Graham. After the third such offering Virgil could contain his curiosity no longer.

“Graham, why are small children bringing you food?” he said, pointing to the most recent slightly melted white chocolate mouse that had been nudged up onto the bar next to Graham's elbow.

“Ah, that. Well I found a way around the system, see?” It looked as if he didnt know if he should be embarrassed or proud.

“You're an actual, honest to god, Fagin!” Jen poked him in the side, and it squelched where chocolate coins had been posted into his jacket pockets by his young street urchins.

”ugh!” she retracted her hand quickly. “The only thing that will make this bearable is if you have a song and dance number ready. And I mean a good one, not like the soppy ones from Annie.”

“You haven't explained why they’re doing it though” Virgil cut in, as Jen lined up more musical examples.

Graham looked to the ground, whilst unwrapping the squished chocolate coin.” told em I’d get them a selfie with a Thunderbird, but it would cost ‘em” he mumbled and veered firmly into the ashamed camp now.

Virgil's mouth hung open, he didn’t really know how to take that. On the one hand he had posed for enough selfies over the years that a few more really didn’t bother him, but something about being traded in exchange for a handful of sweaty sweets seemed kind of wrong. His heart sank a little because he had been enjoying the relative anonymity of the weekend, even with the flypast, most people hadn’t connected that to himself.

Jen worked through her emotions much faster and firmly slapped Graham across the back of his head, frowned and then added a punch to the arm for good measure, this time succeeding in giving him a dead arm.

“Graham, you little shit, firstly you shouldn’t be encouraging excessive sugar consumption in minors. Secondly you can't sell your friend out for something so trivial! I may revise the priority order of these. And thirdly, I told you that in confidence and I haven't sent the contract back yet, I wasn't meant to tell anyone, let alone you, blabbermouth.”

Virgil struggled to keep up with Jens argument, contracts? He was lost now.

A moment of realisation spread across Jens face as she realised what she had said. She looked like she wanted to drag the words back into her mouth as she glanced across at Virgil, who was still standing stock still and bemused.

“Ah, you meant Him didn't you? Yeah, because it wouldn't be connected to that research grant from Dr Hackenbacker, because no, kids wouldn't know or care about that, shit, ignore me.” she flustered for a split second then carried on. “Yes, so, as I said, Bad Graham. No selling Virgil out on the selfie market you horrible human, go filch your own chocolates you horrible human being.” She threw another punch into Graham's other arm.

“I wasn't going to really,” he wailed, “it just kinda slipped out, I was trying to find a way to make them clear off for a bit, how did we end up being the kiddie entertainment? I thought they'd get bored and find something else to do”

Virgil ignored him, rightly assessing that two dead arms didn't need immediate medical attention.

“What was that about a grant Jen?” he kept his voice level, not sure what he was walking into.

“Well, I’m really not doing very well at this secrecy thing, there were so many conditions on the paperwork that I just figured not telling anyone was for the best. I didn't say anything when I applied for it, because I didn't think I had a chance, and then when it got to review I didn't want you to think I was trying to wangle some favouritism or something. It would have been awkward. It is awkward isn't it, it still doesn't seem real. I only got the confirmation just before you picked me up, so that was a bit of a buzz. It's definitely awkward. I’ve read about half the details on my phone, but it's a bit much for a tiny screen and it's not really sunk in. I’m sorry. It’s weird. I made it weird.”

“Jen that's fantastic! Congratulations!” Virgil rushed forward and scooped Jen up in a bear hug, lifting her feet off the ground and swinging her round. “ I get why you didn't say anything,” he said, once he had released her. “But you could have. Brains, Dr Hakenhacker even, has been raving about the papers submitted, it's the most animated I’ve seen him in ages.”

Jen stared down at her feet, and gave the sequins some thorough consideration. She looked a little shy, it wasn’t a look she often wore and it seemed out of place dampening her bubbly personality.

“You're sure it's not weird?” she asked, an astoundingly short statement for the amount of worry she seemed to have riding on it.

“What?” Graham interrupted, “ that Virg is going to be your boss?” Both Jen and Virgil glared at him. “What? It's his family name on the door, stands to reason, right?”

“No!” Jen snapped back, exasperated. Then turning to Virgil: “ you're not, are you? I mean I just assumed that it would be soooo many times removed from what you guys do. That would be awkward, could never pull a sickie then could I! You're not, are you?”

“No. Line management is not on my agenda, thank god. We get to see the research proposals though. Brains gets a bit twitchy on signing off on grants without passing it under the noses of as many Tracys as possible. It makes him happy I guess. We trust our lives with him everyday, I don't know why he thinks we wouldn't trust his judgement on this too though. Oh wait! Yours isn't the polymer one is it? Because Gordon is already calling dibs on some of the real world applications for that one”

“Ahh,” Said Jen with a smile “ you can’t catch me out, I read that far in the terms, I can neither confirm nor deny my defined sphere of research” she wagged a finger at him to emphasize her point. Virgil chuckled.

“Fair enough. But I think this calls for drinks to celebrate!”

“Too damn right,” cried Jen, “ and Graham can get the round in for being a blather mouth little sell out, all for the sake of some sweets.” she smacked Graham lightly in the belly with her clutch bag, then snapped it open to reveal the hoard of pick and mix stashed within it. She put on an exaggerated cockney accent, “tempt you to a chocolate mouse Mate, maybe a curly-wurly? Oi Oi, ‘ow's about it my ol’ mucker?” Graham took it for the olive branch it was and turned back to the bar to get the drinks in.

Chapter Text

The three amigos had nabbed themselves a corner of a table at the side of the dance floor, the better to talk rubbish and fill in the time until the band finished faffing and started actually playing. Graham had got distracted on a trip to the bar, in trying to get Aunt Thurza to commit to some serious moves once the music started and thereby secure the outcome of his self-initiated bet. Jen and Virgil watched Graham try and cajole the woman, but Aunt Thurza was a canny old bird, and seemed to mostly be getting free drinks out of Graham and promising nothing, it made for entertaining watching. Once Thurza had talked her way to her third beverage Jen called quits and went in search of the ladies room, leaving Virgil in charge of the sweetie stash.

“Guard it with your life Virgil, I haven’t seen those kids in a while, they might be regrouping for an attack.” she said, thrusting the clutch bag into his hands, before tottering off with the disco lights dancing off the sequins on her shoes as she walked.

Virgil pulled out his phone, he couldn't help himself, and logged into the International Rescue network. It was a much simpler interface than his usual comms unit, but it did allow him to confirm that his bird was safely home. A quick check into Brains’ repair schedule also reassured him that she hadn't taken any damage on her outing. Virgil felt slightly guilty when he realised he had checked in on the welfare of Thunderbird 2 before that of his brothers. So, he also took a slight detour into the uploaded medical reports and was relieved to see no new entries. He was just weighing up checking the restocking list to make sure Gordon hadn’t tried to put Celery crunch bars on there again when he heard a set of high heels approaching over the set up noises of the band. He looked up, secretly glad that he was being interrupted before he got any more dull. However, it wasn't Jen returning, instead it was Amanda approaching with a definite look of purpose in her eyes.

Virgil was very suddenly aware of the fact that he was backed into the corner with the table and that heavy antique sideboard blocking his escape route. Shit. Kayo would give him hell for his lack of strategic planning. Amanda circled around the table and claimed the seat nearest to Virgil's corner.

“Hi Virgil, I was hoping I’d be able to catch you.” she said smoothly

“Uh huh?” He really hoped he didn't look as scared as that sounded to his own ears.

She let out a tinkling sort of laugh, strangely reminiscent of Lady Penelope when she was going in for the metaphorical kill. ( Never play monopoly with Penelope, she played for keeps and would take actual possessions as security against in-game loans).

“I couldn't help noticing Jen said you were a pilot” she continued.

“I have a licence- yeah” he said cautiously, he was being cagey, and he knew it, it felt like she was going somewhere with this, but he didn't know where.

“Oh yes, you went to work for your Dad's company did you? As a pilot?” she was all smiles, it was unnerving like a snake.

“Amongst other things, yeah I guess.”

“Ahh, great, you see I am after a pilot.” She seemed delighted.

“Oh, ummm, well I kinda have a full time job. But I’m sure my brother could probably give you some names,” he fumbled for a way out.

“Well it's not so much a job,” she paused here, obviously choosing her next words carefully “as an opportunity” she continued, tracing patterns with her finger on a paper napkin that was lying abandoned on the table. Then she looked up and stared right into his eyes. “I need volunteers, you see.” she rushed on now. “I work for a Charity that sends out medical aid to remote locations. We've raised enough funds for our next batch of flights, but the pilots are expensive. Catch 22 really, if I buy the vitamin supplements then I can't afford the pilot, but the vitamins are the backbone of the order and will help reduce the need for more costly items to be shipped later. You see my predicament?” She had gone to half-heartedly picking at the paper napkin now.

The cogs started turning in Virgil's mind, logistics and supply he could figure out. One didn't try and run an operation like theirs from a remote island without becoming familiar with the intricacies of shipping and goods transportation, and that's before you even looked at the lumbering beast that was Tracy Industries.

“So, Virgil, do you fancy getting a bit of charity work on your CV, employers love it, all you would need to do is turn up and we arrange everything else, just a taxi service really.” her voice had taken on a slightly pleading tone now, softened from her initial opening. “I know a wedding isn't the usual place for talking business, but you can see why I couldn't pass up the opportunity of a possible pilot.”

Virgil was frowning as ideas flew around his head. Amanda took this to be a negative sign.
“Ahh, it's alright, you're about to tell me that you're not rated for commercial planes aren't you? I always forget that bit.” he shoulders slumped slightly. “ it's a nightmare, the longer I wait on the next run, the more storage costs I pay on the cargo, which is just criminal really.” she looked set to embark on a little rant, so Virgil decided to cut in.

“How much cargo are you shipping? Is it palletised already? How many locations are you delivering to? Are there perishables? Is there any flexibility with arrival dates?”

“Huh? Ummm, where to start,” Amanda was a little taken aback by the flood of questions.

“You know what?” Virgil took pity on her. “Send me a breakdown of items and locations, and let me see if there's anything I can do, I might be able to cover a few as part of the day job. We did something similar with vaccines once, just as long as you can cope with a bit of leeway on arrival date.” he gave her a reassuring smile.

“Umm, that would be great,” Amanda was still firmly flabbergasted by Virgils apparent u-turn. One second looking frankly terrified, the next chomping at the bit for cargo details.

He pinged across his email details, she glanced at them, then looked again and you could almost see her joining the dots.

“Virgil? Your surname is Tracy? As in Tracy Industries? As in, the Thunderbirds weren’t just a lucky coincidence earlier?”

“Umm, yep,” he gave a modest little nod.

“I always just had you down as V in my contact lists! Oh my god I feel stupid. You never said anything,” Amanda actually blushed, she wasn't used to being caught on the back foot.

“Well, nobody wants a group chat filled with pictures from disaster zones, it puts a bit of a downer on things.” Virgil shrugged

“Ha! And you think Grahams pictures of his cooking misadventures don't do that?” Amanda snorted nervously. “Oh god, and there's me chatting about getting volunteering on your CV, as if you need any more of that!” she tipped her head forward into her hands as another thought occurred to her, “oh and I assumed you wouldn't be able to fly anything bigger than a private jet!” she groaned, moving her hands around to completely cover her face. “Ughhh”. Virgil chuckled, Amanda seemed far less intimidating now.

“Well those cargo planes can be a pain to park, so I’ve heard.” he said placatingly. Amanda pulled one hand away, relieving one cautious eye.

“Seriously? What DO you usually fly though?”

“Thunderbird 2” Virgil supplied as modestly as he could manage, Amanda pulled the other hand away and did a slightly shy shrug to indicate that she was none the wiser. “The big green one” Virgil said laughing and watched as realisation dawned on Amanda's face.

“Awwwh Dammit, that is really embarrassing.” the hands were instantly back up at her face. “The massive one that did the little dance?” The last bit was said through splayed fingers as she still tried to hide her blushes.

“Yeah” Virgil said flatly, “my brother thinks he's funny”

“Oh but it was adorable!” Amanda squealed. Virgil raised one eyebrow, he had heard his ‘bird called many things, but ‘Adorable’ was a new one on him. But Amanda was slowly pulling herself past the embarrassment, and if the apparent cuteness of his cargo plane helped improve her mood, then who was Virgil to make a fuss?

Chapter Text

The band were finally beginning to look like they were ready and Virgil was really hoping that they were going to be worth the wait when one of the small children from earlier in the evening came and tugged at Grahams elbow, initially he tried to shoo them away, he really didn't need any more sweets. Jen spotted the little grabby hands over the edge of the tablecloth and snatched her bag up to her chest, fearing they were trying to steal rather than deliver sweet treats

“Attack on the portside!” she bellowed, half deafening Virgil in the process and nearly giving him a black eye as she flung her arm out to point out the assailants. Meanwhile the child in question was refusing to be shooed and had started tugging on Graham's jacket with determination, when he finally gave in and asked her what she wanted the flower girl thrust her poisey in Virgil's direction.

“I think you’re needed Virg '' Graham said, pointing at the furiously quivering flowers. Having got Virgil's attention the little girl spun on her sparkled shoes and stormed across the dance floor. Something about her demeanor made it clear that she expected him to follow her and be quick about it. Virgil had been too well brought up to refuse so he trotted across the room to catch up with her and see what the problem was.

The little girl directed him into a little service room just behind the stage. Presumably when the house had first been designed this had been somewhere for the waiting staff to hide between courses, a small dusty door hung open revealing a Dumbwaiter in the corner. In fact, now that Virgil looked he could see lots of small hand prints in that dust, and noticed that pieces of the band's equipment had been pushed haphazardly aside to clear a path to it.

The little girl gave him a solid prod in the lower back with her flowers and Virgil edged further into the cramped space. As the green baize covered door swung closed behind them, cutting off the noise from the party effect, Virgil could just hear a child singing. He did the ear equivalent of squinting and was able to identify it as Bohemian Rhapsody and that it was coming from the lift shaft of the dumb waiter.

His heart sank, what was worse than a lift shaft? A stupidly small lift shaft. He picked his way through the assorted boxes and cases until he was at the counter height door. He looked across to his young guide.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” furious nodding “are they stuck?” more furious nodding. He knew it seemed a strange question, but John had been known to hide himself away in cupboards completely by choice as a child, and had grown quite stroppy when removed against his will. Virgil found it was always best to not to assume anything.

“Ok, can you tell me their name?”

“They said their name was Catboy, but I think that's a lie, I can tell when people lie, they look wrong, so I think he's a liar.” the girl let forth a stream of babble, and for a moment Virgil wished for the silent treatment to remain “but his Mum called him Sam, so it might be Sam.”

“Ok, why didn’t you go and get his Mum?”

She shrugged and clamped her lips shut again, she had said her piece.

Letting at only a moderate sigh, Virgil returned his attention to the lift.

“Hello! Sam? Are you ok in there?” he had to repeat himself twice before he was heard over the final verse that was being delivered with quite some gusto.

“Hi! I’m Stuck! It's dark. Can I come out now?” a little voice finally returned his hailing.

Virgil gave the lift control buttons a stab on the off chance that something might go his way , but no, that would have been too easy. He pulled himself together and forced himself to assess the situation rationally and not just conclude that the world was out to get him.

“Right, first things first,” he turned back to the flower girl. “Can you go and find Sam's mother please?” she didn't look best pleased, he rather suspected she wanted to stay and watch the drama unfold, there was a glint in her eyes that he had often seen on a certain type of bystanders at rescue sites. “Thank you” he said firmly, shooing her on her way. He called down a few reassuring nothings to Sam whilst he got his phone out and messaged for reinforcements.

“World hates me, can you find someone in charge of the building and send them to the room behind the stage please?” he quickly typed. He received a gif of a cat falling over by way of reply, he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not so he went back to investigating the lift.

Falling cat was indeed a good sign, as Jen came trotting in 5 minutes later dragging a stressed looking woman in a pencil skirt and jacket. She had the startled/bemused look on her face that was quite common in those who had been accosted by Jen, but she let herself be led into the small space.

“Behold!” Jen announced dramatically, “The Duty Manager!” she added some jazz hands “Although next time, you’ve gotta tell me what you want them for, I looked like a right ninny trying to convince poor Sarah here to follow me, and now look at the poor woman, none the wiser and stuffed in a cupboard.” She glanced across at Sarah, who was starting to look a little alarmed. “It's not a scavenger hunt is it?” Jen asked,“because I’m not getting caught out by that one again - ‘you can't scavenge people’” the last bit had air quotes around it and was delivered in a gruff scotts accent. “It's not, is it Virgil?” Now Jen was starting to look a little nervous.

Virgil held his palms up in an attempt to either calm Jen or at the very least stem the flow of her chatter.
“No, it's not a prank or a game,” he turned to face Sarah, he figured she might need some reassurance also. “There's a child stuck in this service lift. His name is Sam and he seems happy enough, but we should see about getting him out soon, he's running out of Queen hits to sing.” It was a weak joke, but it didn't even get a whisper of a smile as Sarah accelerated straight through the stages of panic. Her eyes went wide and she dragged her hands through her short bobbed hair, making it stick out behind her ears.

“Oh god!” her breathing was racing so he came out more of a wheeze “I knew something would happen when Greg clocked off for the evening. I don't know what to do! Who do I call, Fire, Ambulance? The building is listed! What if they use the jaws of life on it, will English Heritage hunt me down?”

“Ok, one problem at a time. Sarah, how about we just step out of here for a minute and we can work out what we’re going to do, does that sound ok?” He gently guided her towards the green blaise door with a hand on her elbow. Looking back over his shoulder at Jen he quickly whispered “Jen, can you keep Sam talking? I’ll be back in a few minutes”

Jen cracked a huge smile, and Virgil suddenly realised what he had done - namely giving Jen free reign to talk herself hoarse. As the door swung closed behind him Virgil could just hear Jen hollering down the lift shaft.

“Alright Sammy-boy? How's it going down there? Do you know any Elvis? Jailhouse rock? - wicked!”

Sarah didn't seem any calmer once they were outside the small room, and Virgil searched around for somewhere he could park her whilst he tried to calm her down. He caught sight of Graham propping up the bar across the room, and waved to get his attention. Virgil wasn't sure if this was his best idea, but in the age-old tradition of working with what you've got, what he had was a cheeky mock-cockney chappie all wrapped up in a pastel suit.

As Graham came over Virgil quickly appraised him of the situation .

“So there's a kid stuck in a lift, who needs getting out before Jen talks them senseless. Sarah here is the duty manager. She's a bit concerned about what impact the age of the building might have if we need to call in the fire brigade to get the kid out. I’m just going to see if there's an easier fix before we resort to that. Would you be able to help her?

“No problem mate” he turned to Sarah, giving her his best trustworthy workman smile, “Is it listed then? Ok, so what level of listed building are we talking about, have you got your site reports handy, we can have a little look and see if it covers every nook and cranny or just the fancy bits, how's that sound mate?'' Two mates in under a minute was possibly laying it on a bit thick, but it seemed to be doing the trick in calming Sarah down. Virgil watched as the pair of them went off presumably in the direction of the venue's office areas.
Back in the storage room, Jen and Sam had progressed onto some sort of Abba medley. Which was a generous way of saying they were both singing entirely different songs. Virgil was privately quite glad that the lift wasn't sealed and he didn't need to worry about Sam running out of oxygen any time soon.

Using the torch on his phone, Virgil tried to get a better look at the mechanism within the lift shaft to see if there was any sort of manual override. Further inspection, and a bit of wiggling his whole torso into the narrow lift shaft, suggested that the main workings were situated at the top of the lift housing, and completely out of reach - typical. He shuffled himself out of the tight space with Sam's rousing chrescendo still ringing in his ears.

“Right, if you two are ok here, I’m gonna see if I can find an entrance further up and get at the pulley system. Ok?”

“Oh yeah, we’re fine” Jen turned towards the small door again, “aren’t we Sam!” she shouted “how's your ‘Greatest Showman’?” Virgil took that as his sign to beat a hasty retreat.

He headed off in search of some stairs and, not for the first time, wished that he had John on the end of the line with floor plans and schematics. Well he was just going to have a quick look, if it wasn't something simple they could call the local authorities and leave it to them. That's what he kept telling himself. He may have even believed it, his brothers wouldn't have.

A few false starts and dead ends eventually had Virgil peering into the same dark space, only 4 floors higher up. The acoustics of the space did little to lessen the cacophony from below.

“It's Him, the Phantom of the Opera!!!!!!!” Give him his due, Sam had an extensive repertoire.

Mindful of his smarter attire, Virgil shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before he started to poke at the muck covered mechanism. It was sweetly optimistic really, he was bound to end up covered either way. The system seemed simple enough, he gave the ropes a little tug, yeah, he could probably manage it.

“Jen!” he hollered down “ Tell Sam to hold on tight and be ready to get out quick when he gets to you”

“Okie-dokie! Sam! Hang tight in there, it's nearly time to get out!”

Virgil paused for a moment, testing his grip and then pulled. Yes, there probably was a more refined way he could have done this if he had all his usual gear, but he could make this work. Gathering the old rope towards him, he looped it around a nearby chair to secure it until he heard a triumphant cry from below.

“Heya Sam! Great to put a face to the singing voice! Let's get you out of there before muscles upstairs gets too knackered,” there was some scuffling then “ALL Clear!” Virgil lowered the rope back down and secured the hatch closed again. He detoured to the washrooms on his way down to clean the grease and muck off his hands before he could spread it all over himself.

By the time he made it back down stairs again, Sarah had found some nice big warning stickers to put on dumb waiter door and Sam had been reunited with his parents. In fact Graham and Jen had sorted everything. It made a pleasant change, not to be the one dealing with the final clear up. He was even more pleased when he found out that little Sam had promptly thrown up on Graham's shoes upon getting out the lift, as he had been eating his way through his own body weight in chocolates whilst trapped in the service lift and the excitement of his rescue was all too much.

When Jen and Virgil caught up with him, Graham was sitting sulkily on the edge of an ornamental fountain on the edge of the formal gardens. They could hear him muttering to himself as they got nearer.

“Last time I offer to help, bloody kids, see where being the good samaritan gets you, huurrumph” He was swinging his feet about which were currently encased in some oversized white towelling slippers, the type you get given when visiting a spa.

“Awwh cheer up sulk-a-pups!” Jen said as she parked herself next to him. “Doesn't it feel good to have helped someone?”

“No”

“What happened to your shoes? Where did you get these snazzy things from?” she prodded at the flapping slippers with the toe of her own shoes. “Got to admit, they do look comfy” she eyed them covetously.

“Sarah got me them, she said the housekeeping team would be able to sort my shoes out” Graham clung to his sulk, but a little smile crept in at the edges.

“I see that smile Gray!” Jen nudged him with an elbow, “I think you're in there mate! She definitely likes you! You were her knight in shining armor at her time of need.”

Graham snorted “Oh yeah, won my way into her knickers by sifting through the building regs. Oh while I remember, Virgil, you’ll be pleased to know that lift does NOT have Asbestos, if it had been the one at the back of the house it would be a different story. That ones riddled, three reports on that one alone. See what you could have ended up in! Also that lift shaft looks to be weirdly load bearing so just as well it didn't need cutting into, might have taken the chimneys with it. ”

Virgil gulped, he was so used to having John check those sorts of things that he didn’t even stop to think, not to mention to the additional protection his over engineered suit provided. He sat down heavily next to his friends.

“Oh no you don’t” Jen interrupted, “I see what you're trying to do here, no changing the subject. She seemed nice. Did you get her number? Shall I go get her number? We should definitely go get you her number.” She linked her arm with Grahams and tried to pull him to his feet.

“Aagghhh get off woman, I am not going anywhere in slippers,” and he tried to wrestle his arm back from her grip.

“Oh now you get a sense of decorum, where was that the last time the hotpants got an outing? Come on! One of us ought to get lucky. Singletons usually have a chance with the bridesmaids and groomsmen, but at this wedding they're all married - in some cases to each other. So get out there and make me proud Gray!” Their struggle continued until Graham lost his footing in the slippers and toppled backwards. As he tipped back he grabbed at Jens arm to try and stop his descent into the fountain, she offered no kind of resistance and started falling herself. Wildly waving her arms as she splashed into the water she managed to catch Virgil right across the temple and neatly topple him into the fountain as well. All three surfaced, spluttering and cursing. Legs sticking up in the air over the lip of the fountain basin

“Aghh, what the Hell Jen!”

“Oh quit your whining Graham, at least you wont smell like vomit now!” and she shoved him back into the water with a palm to his chest. When he resurfaced he was laughing uproariously.

“I swear you're absolutely jinxed Jen, every time! Every bloody time we go anywhere.” Graham spluttered between laughs.

“Not every time!” She started to defend herself, but stopped as Virgil raised a finger to interject with an example “No, don't you start Mr Tracy, this is not time for you to bring out evidence to support him. Be nice or I’ll tell your work buddies all about your hedonistic days at university”

“Hedon-what-now?” Graham snorted only to be shoved back for a third dunking.

“I don't think they had that module on my course” Virgil mumbled trying to rub water out of his eyes.

“Oh I’m stuck with a couple of funny guys now. Fine. If you’ll excuse me gents!” and she hauled herself up by grabbing Graham's knee on one side and Virgils on the other. A little inelegant grunting was added to the mix and she resembled a pensioner struggling to get off a low sofa.

“Success!” Jen flung her arms in the air, Graham took this opportunity to boot her squarely on the bum with one slippered foot that was still dangling over the lip of the fountain. “Ooof! Chivalry is dead!” She wailed and with no further fanfare she strode off, looking every inch a woman on a mission.

“Where's she off to do you think?” Virgil asked, shuffling himself forward to try and extricate himself in a similar fashion.

“Oh definitely up to something” Graham replied, he had managed to get his feet on dry land and offered Virgil a hand up.

“Should we be worried?”

“You keep asking me this, the answer is always yes.” he answered, shrugging off his sodden jacket and stepping up onto the rim of the fountain. “The question you should be asking is : ‘am I too sober to deal with it right now?’ to which the answer is also ‘Yes’.” with those final words of wisdom he reached up and lovingly draped his jacket over one of the nude statues perched atop of the fountain. “There you go love, bit of modesty for you.” he jumped down from the edge, his slippers flapping on the block paving. “Come on Virgil, let's sort one of our problems, before the other problem finds us again.” Virgil chuckled, and feeling the sodden fabric at his back squelch and drip, decided to follow Graham's lead and donated his own jacket to a fairly chilly looking mermaid draped on one edge of the fountain. Remembering at the last minute to retrieve the phones stashed in its pocket.

“Are we going to be allowed back in there?” Virgil asked as they neared the terrace.

“Whyever not?” asked Graham surprised.

“Well my butt is soaked, I don't think the Historical Society or whatever would take kindly to water marks”

“Well at least it doesn't show on your dark suit, I look like I’ve wet myself. Nothing for it, the round is going to have to be on you, as the most presentable adult present.”
Virgil shuffled his feet feeling the water spread down the back of his legs,he wasn't convinced he filled any of the criteria. Thankfully he was saved from having to voice this by the return of Jen, who came bounding across the terrace, her arms full of a large quantity of fluffy white towelling.

“Ta daaaa!” her arms were too full for the accompanying jazz hands, but they were strongly implied. She dumped a bundle into each man's arms. “You know Sarah really is lovely, and she definitely likes you, I mean if she was just grateful for the help back there then it would be Virgil getting the attention for his heavy lifting heroics. Stands to reason right? Don't get me wrong I’m very happy to ride on the coat tails if it means I get a fluffy robe” she shook out the toweling, revealing it to be he sort of fluffy dressing gown usually handed out at a spa, she quickly folded herself up in its thick drapes “If anyone asks, we were preventing a small child from falling in the fountain - got it?”

“One of your more believable alibis” Graham nodded his approval

“So, yes, as I was saying, had a lovely little chat with Sarah back there, told her you saved another child, this time from near drowning.”
“Hang on, another child? I didnt save the first one.”

“Oh quit it with the specifics, you were there, it's good enough. Stop interrupting my narrative flow! - Anyhoo” he dived back into her story, “So she's on the breakfast shift tomorrow and she said YOU could bring these back tomorrow when YOU come back for your shoes, and she might even be able to rustle YOU up a bacon sandwich while you're there” with each “you” she stabbed a finger into Grahams chest for emphasis, he tried to shrug her off.

“Well that nice of her” Graham tried to play it cool

“Nice?!” Jen all but shreaked “a bacon sarnie? That's practically a proposal right there! Isn't that right Virg?” Jen called him in to back her up.

“Red or brown sauce?” he replied, his face a picture of serious contemplation

“She didn't specify” Jen shrugged

“Well that's the decider then.” Virgil nodded solemnly. “You’ll have to go, just to find out, otherwise you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering. You should take flowers.”

“I’m being ganged up on” Graham cried, his head tilting towards the night sky. It would have been a more dramatic image if he hadn't been swamped by the overly generous proportions of the towelling robe at the time, making him look like a small stroppy child.

The three of them were now ensconced in the robes, the absorbent fabric doing its best to dry them off and stop the risk of dripping. Still none of them moved toward the doors, instead they gravitated back towards the wall they had perched on previously, feeling slightly less self conscious when tucked away from the main party. They had dropped into companionable silence, which was always a rare thing with Jen around, but she was starting to wilt and was leaning lazily against Graham's shoulder, which in turn made him lean onto Virgil. He was just starting to think he might have to brace himself in some way if Jen fell asleep at the end of the row when his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a waiter bearing a tray of cocktails.

The tray was set down on a free stretch of wall next to them and with a flourish and wink the server pulled out a lighter and set it to sparklers wedged in the fruit garnish on each glass.

“Compliments of the house, with the thanks from the management” he said as he handed a glass to each of the friends. He then snatched up the empty tray, span on his heels and left as quickly as he had arrived.

“Ooooh, this is a bit of alright,” Said Jen, her face lit up by the sparklers glow, “is this what it's like being a Hero Virg?”
Virgil snorted, “nope, I think this is all down to Grahams winning personality myself.” and he leaned forward to gently nudge Jens glass further away from her face before she set her hair on fire.

Chapter Text

Some time had passed and the sparklers had long since gone out, and the accompanying drinks drained. Despite the fluffy robes the cold night air had started to creep into the edges of the damp fabric beneath. Jen had pulled the lapels of hers right up around her ears, and had ducked her head down so that her chin was safely ensconced in the thick pile. She tried to flick her feet around to wrap the bottom edge of the towelling around her bare toes, her shoes discarded beside her. It wasn’t really working but she stuck at it, ever determined once she set her mind on a course of action.

“Jen, will you quit fidgeting!” Graham chastised, slightly muffled from within his own towelling confines, he jabbed at her with one elbow to punctuate his point, this caused all three of them to wobble slightly on their perch on top of the wall.

Virgil had been lost in his own thoughts, gazing out at the moonlit gardens, but a finely honed sense for impending squabbling drew him back to the present and the bickering at his side. He was just wondering if he needed to wade in and split them up when he noticed they were shivering in unison. That awakened other automatic reflexes in Virgil and the little medic in him pushed its way through the comfortable alcohol haze to make itself known.

“Ok guys, I think it's time we called it a night, before you both freeze. Lets see about getting a taxi?”

“Ha! You’ll be lucky, this is the countryside Virg, no automated taxis here, it’ll be one guy two villages over who usually does the Wednesday shopping runs for the grannies.” Said Graham, starting to shiver a little more.

Virgil leaned forward so he could see through the patio doors to the function room. Amanda was giving it her all on the dancefloor and it didn't look like the party would be wrapping up any time soon, so there was probably no point hoping that the minibus booked for their trip back would be arriving any time soon. He sighed, work with what you've got, maybe they could sweet talk their way into the staff kitchen to warm up, although he felt they had already used up a fair bit of good will from the staff this evening and he didn't really feel like pushing it further.

“Let's walk!” said Jen, cutting through Virgil's train of thought. Virgil and Graham groaned at the suggestion. “Nah! Really, apparently there's a quick route across the field at the back, the mini bus only took longer because it had to follow the roads. We’ll be back at the campsite quicker than anyone would get here. Also the exercise will warm us up,” she did a little dance on the spot to enforce her point, “and we already look like we’ve been through a hedge backwards.”

She had a point they did still look fairly disreputable. Virgil pulled out his phone and pulled up a map, once again thankful for the upgrades EOS had pushed down with the last update, she took signal blackspots as a personal insult. The map confirmed it, there was a route that looked fairly straightforward running from the back of the formal gardens. But having been caught out by seemingly simple tracks before, Virgil took a moment to double check the inclines as well, but it still checked out. They had a plan, he could work with this.

“Ok then, let's do this.” Virgil said with a solemn nod, the power of which was completely undermined by him still being wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe.

“Oh, hang on, we can't just scuttle off though. We have to say goodbye to the bride and groom! Hang on.” Jen sprang to her bare feet and ran across to the French Doors on her tiptoes. She danced from foot to foot whilst trying to spot the couple from the doorway. After a minute or so she clearly gave up on this task and instead leaned through the open door, and snatched something off a nearby table before scurrying back across to her friends.

“Well, I can’t spot the happy couple, but I found the guest book, so let's just put something nice in here and they can read it later. Right, who of us has neat handwriting?” they all looked from one to the other with blank faces. “Ok, who has legible handwriting?”

Graham held both his hands up in defense, “not me, actively avoid it, anything in writing you can get held to, better with a bit of ambiguity.”

“My god, you really are a cowboy builder aren’t you?” said Jen, “well I’m not doing it, I’ve been told that my handwriting is quote: ‘categorically dangerously illegible’ it was in reference to a lab setting, but the sentiment still stands.”

“Oh give it here,” Virgil reached over and plucked the leather bound wedding guest book out of Jens hands. “Did you at least grab a pen too?” Jen handed over a biro with a little flourish. “So what do we want to put?” He asked

Jen and Graham started wittering about possible inscriptions, liberally sprinkling insults in about the others suggestions. Virgil rolled his eyes and decided that the best thing to do would be to zone the pair of them out and just put something polite and heartfelt in the book. They would all die of exposure if he waited for those two to come to an agreement. He sketched a quick line drawing of the bride and groom standing in front of the altar. Since he was working from memory he drew them from behind, and was very glad that the bride had worn a dress with a distinctive back to make it easily recognisable. A few minutes was enough to pull the sketch together, so he just added a little note about what a lovely day it had been and wishing the couple all the best for the future, that seemed safe enough. Happy with the end result he thrust the book under Graham and Jens noses to get them to sign their names.

“Awwwwn, this is beautiful, it's going to make me go all weepy again!” said Jen, already choking up.

“Bollocks, you can’t blame that on the drawing. It's that last cocktail, pushed you over into soppy drunk.” Graham said as he took the book and pen to sign his name, he glanced down at the page. “Awwh, no, mate. That does look good,” he looked dangerously close to going soppy himself when he was interrupted by Jen dropping her head onto his shoulder and noisily wiping her nose on the towelling fabric with an audible snort. “Ugh, get off woman, you’re disgusting.” He shoved her off and hunched over the page as he carefully added his own inscription.

Once they were all happy with their contribution to the guest book, Jen rammed her shoes back on and returned the guestbook to its table, pausing to give Amanda a big wave goodbye.

“Right,” she pulled the robe tighter around herself and tugged the belt tighter, “I’m ready, let's do this!” and she clicked her heels together full Dorothy.

“Are you going to be alright in those?” Virgil asked, looking down at her footwear. Sure, he had seen Lady Penelope dispatch henchmen in shoes of comparable height, but it never made sense to his brain how anyone could walk in something that so clearly defied the laws of physics.

“Course I can, If you've survived a pub crawl around Edinburgh in heels, anything else is a breeze, I could probably climb a mountain in these. Well, maybe not, but definitely the shoes wouldn't be the defining factor in me managing it or not. It's all just a matter of keeping your eye on the horizon, see!” and she strutted off past Virgil in precisely the wrong direction. He caught her arm as she passed and used it to swing her around 180 degrees.

“If you say so, that probably works better in daylight though.” he pointed towards a gap in the hedgeline. “Thataway Bambi, and remember this was your idea, I’m not carrying you.”

Jen waved off his concerns with one hand and continued her strut, now in the right direction.

“So, for the record, this wasn’t my idea and my feet already hurt, just saying” Graham grumbled as he trudged off in Jens wake, hitching his dressing gown up so it didn't drag on the floor behind him.

Meanwhile, somewhere out in orbit

“John, your brother appears to have split himself in two, should I be concerned?” EOS cut through Johns reverie.

“What?!” He glanced up at her camera in surprise.

“Virgil is now registering in two locations.” EOS calmly continued.

John frowned, pushing down his initial panic he could see there was more to this than EOS was disclosing. “What do you mean, ‘registering two locations’? He’s on scheduled leave, we’re not tracking suit telemetry.”

“Yes, I know, the lack of uniform made it a little tricky, but once I activated Brain’s suit enhancements I could pinpoint him much easier.” In anyone else her tone would have been described as chipper, in EOS it was more than a little sinister.

“EOS those were in prototype stage, we’re not rolling them out yet, why would they even be in Virgil's suit?” John frowned

“Because I uploaded a work request for it to be completed ahead of Virgil's departure. I foresaw that we would otherwise lose contact with him once he was off the IR network.” EOS clarified.

“And Brains just did it?” The confusion was clear in his voice now and he folded his arms as he floated in front of her camera lens.

“Well, I did it under your name, since there wasn't a drop down option for me, which is something I was wanting to discuss with you.” one solitary ginger eyebrow raised itself from its frowning position.

“We can cover that later, although I’m sure you already have extensive protocols regarding impersonating international rescue operatives.” The minute adjustments of her lens made it almost look like a guilty shuffle. “Shouldn't we finish discussing Virgil's dual location for now? So you’ve bugged his suit, what's the discrepancy here, do his pants not match the jacket?”

“That isn't a level of detail I thought to investigate. Do you think I should check?” she latched onto the possible topic change with gusto.

“No, no I was kidding. EOS what is the anomaly?” a ghost of a smile curled at the edge of his mouth.

“Well when I hacked his phone it's tracking in a different direction entirely. Also the clothing readouts suggests that your brother may have drowned and appears to have paralised with one arm in the air.”

Oh god there was so much to unpack here. “ You hacked his phone?” John tried to keep his voice firm.

“Yes. And he now appears to be going cross country. I can only assume that he has been attacked, cut in two, and the attackers are taking him into the fields to hide the body” she was getting quite swept up in her own narrative.

“Ok, no more murder mysteries for you.” John cut in, before she had a chance to get any more dramatic.

“There are no security cameras in either location, so it would be the ideal opportunity” she carried on regardless.

“Ok, enough now, there's an easy way to sort this.” John pulled up Virgil's number and hit dial. He usually avoided contacting his siblings if they weren't on duty, he knew what effect Thunderbird 5 calling could have on their blood pressures. It only took a few rings before the call connected. It was so dark the video was near useless.

“Hey John, what's wrong?” Yep, that was the standard panic his calls got these days.

“Nothing. Nothings wrong, just, have you lost your jacket?”

“Oh, dammit, yeah”

“See EOS? A perfectly reasonable explanation” John turned to look at her camera.

“Thunderbird2 please confirm your current state of health” EOS butted into the call.

“What?” Virgil looked utterly bemused.

“He’s fine EOS, leave him alone.” John turned back to his brother, “she’s watched too many murder mysteries and is convinced that youve been hacked in two because your phone GPS differs from your jacket GPS.”

“You've tagged my clothes?” His eyes widened, visible even in the dark of the image.

“Yeah, about that, EOS seems to have got a little overprotective and took steps to ensure she would be able to pinpoint your location whilst you were away. Don't worry, we’re going to have a talk about it. I am not tracking you, whatever it is you're up to. Although, what are you up to? It looks like the start of a horror movie, are you in the woods?” He could just hear a female voice in the distance. “Ok, never mind, your down time is your own!” He hurriedly went to disconnect the call, but not quick enough as Jens face popped up far too close to the camera.

“Oh Hey! Good to see you!” she turned to face Virgil and could just be heard whispering “which one is he again? John? Right, knew that!” she turned to face John again, “hey John! We’re in the woods! There was definitely something I was meant to ask you, Virgil, what was I going to ask him? What do you mean you don't know? I’m sure I told you?.” Then another man's voice cut in.

“Jen, he rang Virgil. Why the hell would you be involved? You didn't summon him telepathically.”

“You make a good point” she agreed, “...hmmmm….BEARDS! That was it. Graham, why didn't you remember that?” John looked terrified, his eyes wide as he searched for his brother's face, maybe this was a hostage situation, but Virgil wasn’t using any of the code words or signals that their father had drummed into them from a young age. On reflection he should probably put in some refresher training for that, since Alan probably missed the full brunt of it. John's attention was brought back to the present by the camera image spinning as the camera was plucked out of Jens reach.

“Sorry John, what were you saying?” Virgil's voice was a calming rumble.

“Oh, nothing important, ummm….have you seen Dad's shirt?” he asked awkwardly.

“What? No, why? Are you ok John, you seem a bit on edge.” he lowered his voice in concern and moved the phone nearer to his face.

John let out a puff of air, “I just wanted to check you hadn't been abducted.”

“Now you're starting to sound as paranoid as EOS.” Virgil laughed, “ I can't actually remember what the response was meant to be. ‘The one with the flamingos’ was that it?” John nodded

“I was just thinking that some refresher training might be in order because…” he was cut off by a scream in the background.

“Oh dear god, I think Jen’s just fallen in a ditch.” the camera dropped slightly lower as his shoulders sagged. “I’ll speak to you later, tell EOS I am fine and she better quit stalking me or I might forget her new processors on the supply run.”

“That threat wont work Virgil Tracy,” EOS forced herself back into the conversation complete with blinking lights “I can see the processors have already been purchased!”

“EOS” John warned.

“Fine,” EOS conceded a little petulantly, “I have disconnected monitoring interfaces for Virgil Tracy. I have, however, pulled some compelling information on human microchipping for your perusal John.”

“Night Virgil, give us a shout if you need help” John waved a hand.

“Thanks, but if she's managed to get herself that far stuck then I’m going to give up and leave her there.” The sound of a muffled bellow was heard “give me strength, I think that was Graham falling in after her,” he scrubbed a hand over his face, “wish me luck! Night guys”

Chapter Text

“Ok, what happened? Virgil turned the torch on his phone on and shone it mercilessly upon his fallen friends, making them blink and squirm. They then both launched into their own version of events, at speed and at quite some volume. Virgil resisted the urge to put his hand over his ears and dug deep into his reserves to maintain a professional facade. Then, remembering that, 1. he wasn't at work right now, 2. These were his friends who he didn't need to impress, 3.They had most got themselves into this stupid situation in the first place. He took a deep breath and barrelled over their racket like a steam roller.

“ONE. AT. A. TIME!” he bellowed, channelling every ounce of Colonel Tracy that had been thrown their way as boys, his voice ricocheting off nearby trees, seeming to silence even the woodland animals. “If you wouldn't mind?” he ended softly.

His friends looked stunned, although not for long, and predictably it was Jen who found her voice first.

“Bloody Hell, you've got a set of lungs on you, ever considered opera?” She cried, from her prone position at the bottom of the shallow ditch.

Graham snorted next to her “Or Panto?” and he tried to wriggle himself around to face Virgil, he was tangled in some branches and only managed to get himself stuck further.

That set the pair of them off again. “Oh No He Didn’t! It’s behind you!” they broke into giggles, apparently soppy drunk was over and childish drunk was universally in play.

Virgil rolled his eyes and was instantly reminded of similar scenes when Jeff had been trying to coralle 5 young boys to bed who had had just enough contraband sweets and fizzy drinks to make everything hilarious. Virgil suddenly had a lot more sympathy for his father.

“Right, ok, very funny. Can I assume that neither of you have broken anything during your little trip?”

“Can you break a boob?” Jen asked, trying to school her features into some approximation of seriousness. “Because Gray landed on mine and I might have to file for compensation”

“I was trying to help you out! you just laid there, complete dead weight!”

“I think he just called me heavy, I’m not having that from this great lumbering thing, I have been squished, and - oooof - that's it, I’m calling in the professionals, Virgil give me a hand!”

“Well technically, I’m off the rota right now…..”

“Oh har har!” Jen continued her scrabble to the side nearest Virgil, like a swimmer grasping at the sight of land.

“No really, the insurance probably wouldn't cover it….”

“Virgil Arthur William Tracy, you help me out this instant”

“Wha..?” began Virgil, the very picture of confusion.

“Ooooh, full named, you're in trouble” Graham goaded, while still trying to detach himself from the broken branches.

“But that's not my name” said a bewildered Virgil.

“Oh fine! I don't know your actual middle names but the principle is there, get me out of here!” Jen flapped her arms in his direction.

“Careful mate, she's heavier than she looks,” Graham said in a stage whisper.

“Shut your face, like you have room to talk” Jen swatted at him as she tried to reposition herself enough to reach up to Virgil's outstretched arm.

Virgil, for his part, made sure his feet were firmly planted, you didn’t help Gordon out of the pool many times before you mastered the art of the counterbalance, a key skill if you didn't want to end up head first in the water. His smart shoes weren't the best for getting purchase on the forest floor, but a little shuffling provided him with a solid looking patch. He braced his knees and almost expected to hear the whir of motors, then reached a little further over to Jen. She went to grab his hand, but Virgil shifted so that they were holding on to each other's forearms in a much more secure grip. One moment to test his hold and then he pushed up, lifting Jen bodily up the side of the ditch. He may have slightly overcompensated as Jen all but flew up the side without any help from her own legs, and was caught and set down safely with a little bounce.

“Wooo hoo! Did you see how high I went, Gray?” Jen bobbed on the balls of her feet.

“Sorry,” Virgil looked down at the ground, a little embarrassed, “I’m usually shifting masonry,” he offered.

“Oh, don't apologise, that was great. See Gray? I’m just tooo dainty and light!” Jen beamed.

“That's not what he said, he said you’re lighter than a house, that's not a compliment you daft bat! Right you great show off, me next then!” Graham grumbled from his place in the pit.

“With an attitude like that, I think we should leave him down there Virgil,” and she went to spin on her heel, caught it in a tree root, and would have tumbled back into the ditch if Virgil hadn’t steadied her with one hand.

“Ok, break it up kiddies, come here Graham.” He took up the same stance on the side of the drop and leaned over to grasp hold of Graham's outstretched arm. The little gordon on Virgil's shoulder decided that this would be a perfect opportunity to have a little fun. This time, rather than one swift pull, Virgil really played up his performance, straining and groaning whilst not moving Graham an inch. “Oh Graham, I'm not sure I can shift you, you might have to just live there.”

“I hate you right now.” Graham grumbled, and tried to scrabble up the bank himself, which only resulted in him sliding back down with a bump.

That was enough to guilt the little Gordon out of the way, Virgil reached down as Graham went to attack the side of the ditch again and pulled him up by the crook of his arm. It was a little less graceful, but no less efficient. Graham stumbled slightly at the top, but valiantly tried to style it out by putting a lot of attention into brushing off loose leaves from about his person. A more sympathetic Virgil tried to hide his laughs, Jen was feeling less kind, and laughed in his face.

“Ha! You're gonna have to explain what happened to that robe when you go see the lovely Sarah tomorrow! You look like you've been hibernating. Look at you, cute little hedgehog.” She leaned over and plucked a twig out of his rather ruffled hair. “Oh he's adorable!”

“Ok, ok, you shouldn’t taunt helpless animals Jen. Shall we continue this delightful nature walk? Do we need a buddy system to save you from any more ditches?” Virgil tried to herd the troublesome pair.

“How's that work with 3 of us?” Graham frowned, looking genuinely perplexed.

“Ok, forget I said anything, don't want you straining your brain cells” Virgil tried to wave the pair on as quickly as possible.

“Brain cells? That's optimistic Virg.” Jen laughed and Graham threw a small branch at her that had been wedged in the collar of his shirt. For the first time Virgil felt a twinge of homesickness, weird that it should be bickering that reminded him of family, he didn't want to unpackage that too much.

Eventually, after 3 consecutive minutes worth of brain cell gags followed by a 2 minute discussion on beards, since Jen had remembered her previous train of thought, they made it back to the campsite. Virgil sent a thankful prayer up to the stars that they made it without any broken bones or other injuries, the way his luck had been going he had almost expected to end up in the next county.

Virgil quickly retracted that prayer, when a photo message pinged up on his phone. It was an old picture of John, sporting a neat little beard, from a brief period when a broken electric razor had resulted in the new look. The special space rated hair collecting razor had been tricky to replace leaving John with no option but to embrace the fuzz. Virgil hadn’t thought there had been any photographic evidence, John was pretty good at moderating his own digital presence. He noticed the text underneath. “In answer to your friend's questions, please see the attached.” Sometimes his AI niece could be truly terrifying in her capabilities. He typed a quick reply which outlined in no uncertain terms that EOS should quit listening in on conversations that didn't concern her or he would be forced to fill John in on a few of EOS’s more morally dubious questions that she had directed Virgil's way in the past. He watched the screen flicker once and then return every so slightly dimmer, and nodded in satisfaction.

It did seem a shame to let the photo go to waste though. He quickly forwarded it to Gordon, knowing his brother could be relied upon to keep blackmail material secure from even John's firewalls. Gordon had his ways, and they were best not questioned too closely.

He called Jen over, at least he could close off the beard argument once and for all.

“Hey, Jen, you were asking about John and beards?” he passed her the phone.

Her eyes went wide and a few seconds later the sound started. A squeal, at a pitch to enrage dogs. “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, I knew it!” She thrust the device into Graham's face, the glow blinding him after the dark of the woodlands.

“Aggh, what am I meant to be seeing here?” he tried to swat her hand away.

“The beardy-ness, see, the Curtains match the drapes!” she turned the phone again so she could look again. Virgil could only cough out a shocked laugh.

Graham snorted, “how’d you get that from a headshot?!” he spluttered.

“Huh? It's clear, ginger hair, ginger beard.” she said as if it was obvious.

“Oh that's not what that means,” Graham leaned in and cupped a hand around Jen’s ear. There was some frantic whispering. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went even wider. “Oh, I have misused that phrase more than once then. Oh god! Including in a research presentation! Oh Virgil! I said it to Dr Hackenbacker! Oh my god!” She shoved the phone back into Virgil's hand and then clawed at his sleeve in despair, throwing her whole body about melodramatically. “What must he think of me!” she wailed. Virgil just chuckled, too many younger brothers made him fairly immune to theatrics. “Aggggghhh! What am I going to do?”

“Oh I doubt Brains even noticed” he patted her on the top of the head in the most patronising way he could manage. She wailed softly, resting her head on his bicep. “Oh, there, there.” he dispensed a few more pats, “honestly, Brains mostly zones out anything that isn’t techno babble anyway. You know, names, places, what day of the week it is.” Jen groaned once more, but it was interrupted by an especially large shiver that set her teeth chattering.

Thankfully they had now made it to their yurt.

“Ok, enough, before you freeze over. In you go!” and he shoved her gently through the door of their yurt, grabbing Graham by the scruff of his shirt and launching him after her. Once inside the pair stood numbly shivering in the middle of the floor. Virgil realised they were going to need a little more direction.

“Right,” he put his hands on his hips and channelled his grandmother. “You two go brush your teeth or do whatever it is you need to do to be ready for bed. I suggest getting rid of the wet clothes as a start. Shoo!” He snatched up the nearest abandoned towel and wash bag and threw them at the pair, sending them on their way to the shower block. Once they were on their way he rummaged in the standard issue “worry-wart emergency pack” that Scott had stuffed in his bag before he left. The deceptively small pack held an assortment of the compact essentials with which they usually stocked their baldrics. A little shuffling and Virgil found what he was looking for, a handful of chunky dice sized cubes. Based on the larger heat cubes they used for arctic camping, Brains had recently modified the technology to create these tiny personal warmers that cranked out an impressive amount of steady heat once activated. He put the rest of the bits and pieces back in the pack and flung it into his duffle bag. He didn't want to think too closely about why Scott had felt the need to put a full suture kit in there.

A short while later and all the required ablutions had been completed with surprising little fuss and everyone had made it to their respective bunks. Virgil threw a heat cube to each of his friends before turning the hanging lantern light off. The impact activated the cubes and there were some appreciative noises as the pair warmed up. Jen snuggled down murmuring sleepily about efficient heat transfer and warmth dispersion ratios. Virgil grinned to himself before he settled down to sleep himself.

The next morning Graham crept out of the yurt with the skill of a stocky ninja, he only tripped over one of Jens discarded glittery shoes on his way out, and his half spluttered curses weren’t enough to disrupt his friend's slumber. He bundled up the muddy robes, rolling them as neatly as he could, hoping that Sarah wouldn’t judge him too harshly for their messy state. He only winced slightly at the brightness of the morning light as he left the yurt, but pushed that aside and set a determined course across to the woodland they had traversed through the previous night. The things a man would do for the promise of a bacon butty.

Jen felt the breeze from the door opening and closing, and sleepily snuggled further into the cozily warm bedding. The heat cube was still letting off a steady comforting warmth. This suddenly supplied her semi-somnolent brain with a brainwave. Her eyes snapped open and she flung her arm out of her bunk, patting wildly around for something for her to jot her ideas down on. thoughts were bashing around in her head, desperate for an outlet and making her almost giddy with excitement.

Virgil was unaware of this unfolding epiphany until a little later, when his sleeping brain became unwillingly aware of Jens distracted mutterings. It was strangely familiar, both John and Alan had a tendency to quietly mutter equations and formulas as they were working through them. Alan in particular would often talk through the mental calculation he was doing as he made adjustments to Thunderbird 3’s course, finding the vocalisation helped his confidence even if he never got a response. Virgil tried to just let the numbers and figures wash over him and not allow himself to completely surface from sleep. He knew he didn’t need to be up just yet, and fully intended to make the most of this chance to sleep in without fear of the emergency alarm. But slowly and surely certain words needled their way into his consciousness. He rolled onto his back and flung one arm over his eyes in a last ditch attempt to stave off the moment of full wakefulness.

Jen was talking to herself about inflatable avalanche survival bubbles for some reason, Virgil frowned as his brain zoned into her softly spoken words more fully.

“So if I assume a rough internal volume of around 25 cubic meters, then based off that…”

“It’s 35” Virgil mumbled, rolling over and forcefully burying his face in his pillow.

“What?” Jen looked up to Virgil's bunk from where she was now sitting cross legged on the floor.

“The internal volume of the survival spheres, 35 cumbic meters.” He repeated pushing his head up just a few inches then flopping back down once he had said his piece.

“But,....how?” Jen frowned in confusion.

“Filled one with ball pool balls once…...for training, kinda…” Virgil replied groggily through the pillow.

“O...k. Ask me no questions and I’ll tell thee no lies,” she said in a sing-song voice, before going back to her notes. “Well based on 35 cubic meters internal volume, and an estimated average heat output of 25 degrees centigrade, then we could reasonably hope to get…” She scribbled away at her notes.

Virgil shuffled his face around so he could breath and scrubbed at his face with one hand. He did a quick mental conversion, then rolled over to face Jens direction.

“40” he said mid yawn.

“Huh?” Jen looked up at the sound of his voice.

“The heat output...40c...near enough… Gordon tried to cook pop tarts with them once.” He yawned and stretched, admitting to himself that he is unlikely to get back to sleep now. He sighed, but sat up all the same.

Jen took this as a sign that Virgil was awake enough to listen to her and she launched into a full sales pitch. She had a plan to utilise the new, more stable, heating compounds in the mini heat packs and add that to the structure survival bubbles already in production. By combining her polymer research with the existing designs she hoped it would be able to generate heat around the person inside whilst they waited for rescue.

Virgil nodded along, then frowned and held up one hand to pause her progress.

“But if the bubble is warming the snow around them that would be bad.” he said bluntly whilst his thoughts tried to order themselves more fully.

“Why?” asked Jen.

“Because once the chemical reaction creating the heat stops, you end up with water around the sphere, which once the temperatures drop again would freeze solid around the sphere. Making the rescue harder.” Virgil was quietly happy with that explanation, especially since he managed it without caffeinated support.

“Good Point!” cried Jen, waving a finger in the air. “I wouldn't have thought of that, so it needs to be insulated too! I know just the polymer!”

It was at this point that Virgil noticed that Jen had been scribbling away on the back of a tourist map, using what looked to be an eyeliner pencil. He reached out an arm and snagged his duffle bag, without having to leave his bunk. A quick rummage later and he found a small sketchbook and a propelling pencil from his bag and handed them both across to Jen without a word.

“You really are Mary Poppins!” She cried out and instantly fell upon the offered pad, eager to get down all her thoughts right away.

Chapter Text

When Graham returned a few hours later, he found Jen and Virgil animatedly passing the sketch book between themselves, taking it in turn to add a note here, or a line there, all whilst talking at lightspeed. They were sitting on the floor, still in their nightclothes but had nested themselves in the quilts off the beds, which made them look like two highly talkative beanbags. A smattering of wrappers showed that their snack stash had been raided for substitute breakfast. He managed to come right into the yurt before they noticed him. Graham announced his arrival by dumping Virgil's suit jacket over his head.

“Taa daa! Look what Sarah found and was nice enough to have cleaned” he spread his own arms wide to show off his similarly pristine jacket that he had worn back to save on carrying. It looked a little odd over his slightly rumpled polo shirt, but he didn't seem to mind.

Virgil batted away the fabric until he managed to get free, allowing Graham to see the comms display that Jen and Virgil had been huddled around.

“Well. t-that would definitely check the -umm- d-durability of the GPS components” said a nervous looking man in blue spectacles, frowning slightly.

“That's alright Brains, EOS and I are going to have a little chat about that.” said Virgil attempting to straighten his hair before giving up when he realised he had never styled it in the first place that morning. He glanced up at Graham, “Graham let me introduce you. Brains meet Graham, Graham this is Dr Hackenbaker”

“P-pleased to make your a-aq-qua. Pleased to m-meet you” Said Brains politely.

“Ahh, the drapes and curtains man, gotcha!” He pointed at the screen and looked at Jen, who had suddenly found the edge of her blanket really interesting, and wasn’t about to look up for anything.

“O-oh, well, umm, interior decorating isn’t r-really my a-area of expertise” he fumbled over his reply, looking slightly confused

“No, yeah, my bad.” Graham said, whilst nudging Jen in her side with the tip of his shoe. “Anyway, didn’t mean to interrupt.” and he went to back away.

“Oh no that's quite alright, I-I was just going, a p-pleasure to m-meet you.” he nodded to Virgil and Jen, “I’ll run some of these numbers and let you k-know what the the i-initial findings are. But it certainly looks m-most promising” he beamed at the pair of them and then cut the call.

Jen flung aside her blanket and jumped to her feet like a jack in the box. “Soooooo, How did it go with the lovely Sarah?” she rounded on Graham.

“Red or brown sauce?” asked Virgil from where he was still comfortably nested on the floor.

“Oh beautiful! So posh, there was a choice, condiments in those little pots with tiny spoons! But you could tell it was the real deal Heinz tomato not the cheap catering stuff.” he closed his eyes in bliss at the memory “Thick cut, maple cured bacon, and crusty farmhouse loaf, absolutely one of my top 5 bacon sandwiches ever”

Jen smacked his arm to make him pay attention. “But what about Sarah? How was she?” she wheedled in a sing-song voice.

“Oh yeah, she's good, lovely lass, had our jackets there as well, all clean and pressed, attention to detail or what?”

“You're useless,”Jen berated him “Graham, utterly useless. I was hoping for a little more than her laundering abilities, we’re well beyond women getting the vote and getting out of the kitchen.” Graham blushed a little at this.

“Oh I didn’t mean it like that, only it was kind wasn’t it,” his blushing turned up a notch, “we sat in her office and got to have a bit of a chat, it was nice.”

“Annnnnd?” Virgil piped up from his place on the floor, waggling his eyebrows, the annoying sibling was a well practiced role in his family, Virgil had taken notes.

“And, she gave me her number so we can keep in touch.” Graham said all in a rush. “Ok? Now leave me alone!” He turned his back on them and made a show of taking his jacket off and folding it carefully into his bag. The back of his neck was a lovely shade of pink that wasn't solely down to builders' tan.

“Ooooooooooooooooooh” Jen spun around once and then plonked herself on the ground next to Virgil, so both their backs were leaning against the side of the bottom bunk. “Isn’t he cute?” she said to Virgil, who nodded his agreement. “Oh God Gray, you better have said thank you! You did, didn’t you? And I mean a proper one not just ‘Ta’ as you walked out the door”

“Of course I did! Leave me alone!” Graham continued with his careful packing, although he was quickly running out of items to pack.

“He should send flowers!” Jen shouted as the idea came to her, one finger raised in the air

“On it!” said Virgil, pulling up an app on his phone and quickly scrolling through pictures of bouquets. He tilted the screen so Jen could see and motioned for her to pick one out.

“Oh Virgil, you dark horse. What should we think when you have this bookmarked, how often are you sending out flowers?” she tried to waggle her eyebrows, but frankly had never put enough practice in to really pull off the gesture fluently.

Virgil tapped at this phone to add the delivery address, the page became populated with all the mostly recently used addresses. He laughed and angled the screen again so Jen could see the sprawling list of hospitals.

“Oh that doesn't make it any less worrying, that's a lot of hospitals!”

Realising that the heat was momentarily off himself Graham chipped in, “are you saying that Virgils has been trying to chat up hospital patients? Virgil, mate, that's probably a bit wrong, taking advantage and all that.”

“Oh har har, you can't distract us that easily Graham. Do you want a say in this message or not?” Virgil asked.

“Nope, he can’t be trusted!” Jen lunged and snatched the phone, instantly curling her shoulders round protectively as she started frantically typing out a message on the tiny interface. A few seconds later she unfurled herself from her gollum-esk position, beaming in triumph, “ done! You can thank us later Gray!” She handed the phone back to Virgil to complete the transaction.

It was mid afternoon before they had packed up and got on to the road for their return journey. They would have been away sooner but Virgil had got called in to deal with evacuating a field mouse from the shower block. After which he had to convince Amanda that her hangover wasn’t actually terminal, dish out blister plasters to three other women who were regretting their footwear choices from the previous evening and help break into a final persons car after they had locked their keys in the trunk by mistake.

They had just dropped Graham off, after some final compulsory ribbing, and had turned the hire car towards the airport when John's floating image projected itself through the car's central satnav unit.

“Virgil, how are your blood alcohol levels?” He started without any preamble whatsoever.

“Jeeze John, you scared me! Hello to you too”

“Oh Hey Johnny-T!” Jen leaned forward to get his attention. “How's it hanging, or rather floating? You know, it's weird, I was almost expecting facial hair, that image is obviously going to stick with me. It's a good look, you made it work. I wonder if beard hair reacts differently in Zero-G? Oh hang on, what was I meant to remember, oh yeah, ‘asking people about their facial hair is overly personal’ well that didn't work, I’m going to have to get a better memory trigger for that one to stick.”

“Umm, Hi. As I was saying, Virgil, blood alcohol levels, where are you sitting.” John looked back to his brother.

“Well I’m driving, so I should hope they’re ok” John scowled back, and raised his eyebrows meaningfully in Jen’s direction, strongly implying through his body language that Jen was a good enough reason to doubt someone's sobriety. “No seriously, last units will be well clear,” Virgil hastily pulled some professionalism into his demeanor. “Why, what's up?”

“We’ve received a call about an unstable bridge in Northern Russia, we could do with your expertise. I know you’re technically off, but if I sent Alan he could pick you up in Two on the way, I see you're about 20 minutes out from the airport now. “

“John, have you hacked into my clothes again?”

“No” his face was far too straight to feel natural. Virgil raised just one eyebrow and waited. “Oh fine, I hacked the car systems, just to see if you were nearly back, to work out if it was feasible before interrupting your shoreleave.”

“Ok, fair enough, of course I’ll go with Al. But John, can you sort out a flight for Jen, I was meant to be dropping her back to Geneva on my way back.” he glanced down at the car footwell, where Jen had rammed a few assorted bags that hadn't made it into the trunk. “Can you make sure it has extra carry-on allowance? Specifically for flip flops.” Jen waved her hands, miming that it was fine she could sort herself out, or at least that was what she was aiming for, in reality it looked like a windmill impersonation or silent Punch and Judy run through without props. Either way, she was ignored.

“Absolutely,” ever the professional, not even phased by the flip-flops comment, “forwarding flight details now” Jens phone pinged loudly.

“I shouldn't ask how you had my details, should I? Also, that had been set to silent, tripped up there mate” she tutted and wagged one finger back and forth, “sloppy, must try harder,”

EOS’s decided to throw in her opinion at this point, “it wasn't a mistake it was a conscious decision to avoid startling you, as John's unannounced arrival created a spike in Virgil's heart rate that ought to be avoided.”

“EOS, we’ve talked about this, no more unauthorised monitoring, what are you even getting a reading off of this time?”

“Define unauthorised with regards to the reference parameters of ‘duty of care’….”

“EOS!” John and Virgils voices were laced with warning tones.

“OK, monitoring ceased!” EOS quickly announced. Virgil flinched and slapped at the back of his neck, it felt like he had been bitten by a bug, despite not having noticed any flying beasties in the car previously. It didn't go unnoticed by John and his frown deepened.

Virgil looked more than a little worried as he pulled his hand away and found no evidence of a deceased bug on it. He was distracted from any escalating panic by Jen cackling in the passenger seat.

She had managed to quickly trace the message from EOS and was now engaged in a back and forth conversation with the AI mostly revolving around Gifs. “EOS, you have a wicked sense of humour!” She turned her phone so Virgil could see, it was a picture of a cat falling over. He shrugged, not really getting it, but EOS and Jen were blatantly on the same wavelength, which was beyond concerning.

In no time at all, due to EOS and John's aptitude at jumping through red tape, or blazing straight past it in some instances, they had returned the car and Jen was on her way into the main terminal. One last cheery wave and Virgil jogged towards a runway further away from the main traveller terminal, a suit carrier hanging over his shoulder and his duffle bag banging against his hip as he moved. He made it to the spot just in time to watch Alan's approach, which was flawless if a little cautious. He noticed that Alan decided not to land the big green machine, but rather set it to hover and lowered the rescue rig. If questioned he would probably claim it was because he wanted to be as quick as possible, but Virgil had a sneaking suspicion that his baby brother just didn't want to have to land the massive cargo vehicle with Virgil watching.

Virgil jumped into the seats, throwing his bags next to him and tried to get his head back up to speed for a rescue. There would be time enough to study the plans of the bridge on the flight across, but it was quite a change of gear from his, almost, relaxing weekend.

30 minutes into his flight a video call came through on ‘Twos main constol, but for once it wasn't John jumping in without waiting for an introduction, but Jen. She looked to be making the call with a blanket held over her head, like a child trying to read undetected by torchlight at night.

“Jen, are you ok?” Virgil asked, concern making his brain rush ahead and fill any possible scenarios that might have befallen her in the short space of time since she was left unattended. In fact the panic overran the other question of how the hell Jen had managed to patch herself through to this device, if EOS hadn't been involved in some way then there was going to be a very grumpy AI in the near future when she found out someone had got past her firewalls.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Jen whispered, “but Virg, I’m on a bloody private plane, I just got escorted here, do you think this is what John meant to do, or is this a really fancy kidnapping? Is it still kidnapping if I'm not a kid? Abduction? What do I do?!”

Virgil chuckled, “I can assure you John never does anything unintentionally, what's the problem? You flew out on a private plane.” he pointed out.

“Oh, I guess it was, wasn't it? But that's not the same! I just got served a mimosa and this blanket is cashmere.”

“Are you saying my plane wasn’t fancy enough?” he mockingly raised one eyebrow

“You’ve gotta admit the inflight snacks are rubbish” Alan cut in, brandishing one of Gordons cans of spray cheese to prove his point.

“You got snacks?” Jen turned her attention to Alan, “not so much as a nut on the outward flight.”

“Apart from the passenger” Virgil mumbled, Alan stifled a giggle.

“So yeah, this is a bit much, can you check with John if I’m meant to be here, is it a typo?”
I mean, I'm not trying to suggest that he's all-fur-coat-and-no-knickers, as my gran would say. But he just didn't strike me as the first class private jet kinda guy, I don't want to take the piss here, I can't afford this!” She looked worried.

“Fur coat and no knickers?” asked Alan

“Yeah, you know,” she waved a hand vaguely, like that would help “All superficial flash, but nothing to back it up. Although I guess with that spacesuit it would need to be no knickers… that's too personal again isn't it. Ahh well, said it now, I’m just thinking from a practical sense really.” she stopped her wonderings abruptly looking at Alan “Oh Virgil, the mini-me is going beetroot, is he choking on a nut or something?”

Virgil held up a hand to try and stem the flow of Jens ramblings.

“He's fine, I just dont think he was expecting to discuss John's underwear choices today. But to your earlier point, no, it's not a mistake. Drink your mimosa and enjoy the flight. Please try not to fill their cockpit with sequins though. If it makes you feel better we have a lot of banked favours with airlines, and believe me, John keeps meticulous tabs on them and we have very few opportunities to make use of them.” He watched as she stuck an arm out of her blanket defenses and pulled it back, having retrieved her drink. “I’ll catch you later Jen, if you’ll excuse us, we’re nearing our destination and, thanks to you, my copilot is still unable to land this thing due to a prolonged fit of embarrassment.”

Jen gave a cheery wave whilst slurping on the straw in her cocktail and Virgil cut the call.