A/N: Okay so I admit I'm a little disappointed at the limited number of reviews the first chapter received in relation to the number of hits. I'm not a review-hound, but as this is a story I'm a little unsure about it would be good to get some feedback to find out how it's coming across. So please, let me know your thoughts, suggestions, likes, dislikes etc etc. Feedback is how we improve as writers and that's something I'm always looking to do.

Having said that, thanks to everyone who did review and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!


Chapter Two: Turning Point

As Tracy One touched down on the tarmac, Alan felt the last vestiges of his calm fading away. Finally talking to Doctor Tomass had been almost cathartic for him. A turning point, the doctor had said. A breakthrough. But as he drew closer and closer to Tracy Island, he began to lose his newfound sense that things really were going to get better. It was like he was being sucked back into a bubble that he couldn't escape from. At least John, his pilot for the journey home, had been restrained enough to restrict his worrying to a few initial questions after he'd picked Alan up. The rest of their conversation had been about stupid, mundane things and it had been a relief not to have to dissect his latest session with Doctor Tomass straight away. Alan blessed whoever's idea it had been to send the quiet, patient brother to pick him up today.

Unfortunately, the rest of his family weren't likely to be so patient. Alan knew from experience that the questions would start as soon as he stepped off the plane. How did the session go? How are you feeling? Do you want to talk? What did Doctor Tomass say?

They always wanted the same damn things. Couldn't they see that he didn't want to talk – that he wasn't ready to? Alan felt the tension well up inside of him as the plane rolled to a standstill. All those expectant faces, all those hopeful smiles – he felt like he was going to be physically sick. How could his family make him feel so unhappy?

"Right. Here we are then." John switched the engine off and swung around in his seat. Crossing to the hatch, he wrenched it open and watched as the steps dropped slowly towards the ground. "After you."

Alan stood up carefully, balancing his crutch under one arm and swinging his bag over his shoulder. He braced himself and then climbed slowly out of the plane.

The hanger was empty.

Alan blinked, foot hanging awkwardly off the top step. But no, he hadn't been mistaken – the hanger really was empty. For a moment he stood there, his foot waggling ridiculously in the air, and then John nudged him from behind and he climbed carefully down. The hanger was empty. There would be no questions – at least for the moment. Alan smiled.

John followed him down the steps. "It's quiet," he observed, closing the hatch behind them.

Alan laughed, surprising himself. Now that the pressure of his welcoming committee had passed, he could relax again. Maybe have a swim in the pool. Take in some sun. Think about anything else apart from the months he had lost and how close he had come to death.

"Wonder where the welcoming committee is …?" John smiled slyly at his younger brother's surprise. "You think I didn't notice you looked like you were facing your own execution?"

Alan bristled. "I just get sick – "

" – Of people caring?"

Doctor Tomass' words rang through his mind and he bit back an angry retort. "I'm not going to shatter if you guys leave me alone for five minutes," he said tightly.

"Hell, I know that. Do you think I want to play babysitter on my days off? Geez Al, you're gonna be nineteen soon. You'd think you'd be able to look after yourself by now."

Alan couldn't help grinning at John's wiry humour. He'd forgotten how good company his blond brother could be. In fact, he thought a little guiltily, he'd forgotten how good company all of his brothers could be when they weren't trying to mother him to death.

And you aren't scowling and snapping, his conscience remarked.

John moved off across the floor of the hanger, making no move to help as Alan juggled his bag and the stupid, hateful crutch. Once he had it locked under his arm, he followed his brother up into the villa.

John was right: it really was ridiculously quiet. The hallways were deserted and, outside, the surface of the pools was still. Which of course meant only one thing: a rescue.

Still following John, Alan limped up to their father's office. His older brother held the door open for him without comment and they both entered the room to find it in full 'command centre' mode.

" – the situation is stable, it's just going to take some time," a familiar voice was saying. "The only difficulty we're having is making ourselves understood. The mayor doesn't speak a great deal of English and my Mandarin is pretty non-existent –"

"I think I've got someone who can help you there, Scott." Jeff Tracy twisted around in his chair and waved his sons over. As his eyes moved to study his youngest son's face, Alan braced himself for the interrogation that was sure to follow. Instead his father simply said, "Good timing, boys. John, we could use your help with the Chinese."

"Sure." John slid into the seat next to their father and began speaking to Scott.

Alan limped closer and peered over Jeff's shoulder. "What's the situation?"

"Fire in a factory in the middle of Shanghai," his father replied distractedly. He was following the conversation between Scott and John. What Alan assumed was Mandarin was now being traded back and forth.

"Another fire …" Weird, now that Alan thought about it. There been an unusually large number of fires and explosions amongst the handful of rescues his brother's had carried out during his recovery. What was up with that?

His father's mobile rang suddenly, jarringly, cutting through John's stream of Mandarin and making them all jump. Jeff eyed the caller ID and grimaced. "I really have to take this. John, can you manage?"

"We've got it covered, Sir." John paused and looked over his shoulder at his father. "If I can borrow Alan?"

Jeff looked at him sharply and then turned his hard gaze onto his youngest son. Alan wondered if his father had suddenly realised that he was still standing in the middle of the command centre. Typically anytime a rescue had taken place during his recovery, Jeff had ordered him to go and lie down. He hadn't even been allowed to sit in the command centre and watch; it had been just one more frustration to add to the increasing feeling that he was being suffocated by his family.

"Alan?" Jeff said finally.

Alan met his blue eyes firmly. Doctor Tomass had said some pretty compelling things about how if you he wanted his life to change then he was going to have to be the catalyst for that change. Might as well start now. "I'm ready, Sir."

He could tell his dad wanted to disagree. But the mobile was still ringing and John was still waiting and who knows what was going on at the factory in Shanghai. And at the root of it all, while Jeff Tracy was a father first, he was also an expert on knowing which way to jump when faced with a difficult decision.

"Do it," he said curtly, standing up and striding out of the command centre with the mobile clamped to his ear. "But this is a one-off, understand?"

Alan slid into the seat his dad had vacated, feeling as if he'd won some kind of personal victory. Babysteps, Doctor Tomass' voice echoed in his mind. Day by day. Your family love you; never forget that. Just be as patient with them as they are being with you.

"Al, you with me?"

John had caught him daydreaming. Blushing Alan drew his chair closer to the desk and nodded. "What can I do?"


Three hours later and an exhausted but jubilant team emerged from the silos under Tracy Island. Even Scott was smiling – which was something of a rarity these days – and Gordon's humour seemed to be on top form. Virgil was grinning tolerantly as his younger brother horsed around while Tin-Tin was casting about for Alan. There was no way he wasn't back by now and after all the effort she'd gone to this morning …

Of course, it was typical for a rescue call to come in after she'd put so much time and energy into her appearance. Now she probably looked like the Bride of Frankenstein. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to track Alan down; maybe she should retreat to her room first.

Too late. It seemed the remaining Tracys had gathered in the lounge to await the return of the rescue team. Jeff Tracy no doubt wanted a full debrief as soon as possible. John Tracy probably wanted to say goodbye before he relieved Brains and Fermat up in Thunderbird 5. But Alan Tracy? Even Tin-Tin was finding it hard to work out what Alan wanted these days.

She tried to prepare herself as she followed his brother's across the lounge. He was probably going to be in a foul mood; he always was after his appointments with the psychologist. Either that or morose to the point of depression. Either was bad enough, but coupled with the endless, growing frustration that he felt towards his family and sometimes she felt like it was too much for her to cope with. She was nineteen for God's sake. She was supposed to be having fun with a boy, not struggling to support him as he slowly self-destructed.

So when Alan raised his head and actually smiled at her, Tin-Tin thought she'd stumbled into some kind of alternative dimension. It had been so long since he'd looked … perhaps not happy, but maybe content. She's almost forgotten what a devastating effect his smile had on her. Her cheeks were flushing so hotly she was grateful for her dark skin. Hope rose up inside her – was he finally making some progress?

She hung back as his brothers clustered around their father. Alan greeted his returning brothers and then, perhaps before they could start enquiring about his health, he stood up and made his way carefully across the room towards her.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." He shifted, playing with the top of the crutch. "Can we talk?"

Tin-Tin glanced across at his family. Virgil and John were laughing at some quip Gordon had made and Scott was looking at his father. Jeff Tracy was watching her and Alan. When he caught her gaze, he turned back to speak to Scott.

"If it's okay with –" Tin-Tin waved her hand in the direction of his family.

Alan shrugged. "They've got to debrief." The unspoken words, And they don't need me, hung in the air between them, but for once Alan didn't seem irritated by that fact.

So she smiled up at him and said, "Where do you want to go then?"


They walked down to the beach. It was slow progress; Alan could walk now, with the aid of the crutch, but he was by no means as fast as he had been. Tin-Tin didn't mind – she ambled beside him, holding his hand – but she could tell it still annoyed Alan. For someone who was normally so active, his convalescence had been like some kind of nightmare. He'd literally had to rebuild all the muscle strength in his body and the fact that the end was almost in sight made him even more impatient. Even when he was fully recovered, Tin-Tin knew he wouldn't be content until Mr Tracy declared him fit for International Rescue duty again. And by the haunted look that echoed in Jeff Tracy's eyes every time he looked at his youngest, Tin-Tin sometimes wondered if that was ever going to happen.

She flopped down onto the sand and watched as Alan awkwardly followed suit. She knew better than to help him and in truth, he didn't really need the help. Some residual weakness in his left leg meant he still had to use the crutch to move around but beyond that, his health had improved dramatically.

"I spoke to Doctor Tomass today."

Tin-Tin lay back on the sand and gazed up at the sky, just as she had the day before. It was a clear, perfect blue, with a few thin wisps of cloud. "Alan, you speak to her every other week," she pointed out gently.

"This time it was different."

"How so?"

"This time I listened to her."

Tin-Tin rolled over onto her side, propping her head up on her hand. Alan's legs were stretched out in front of him. The skin on his legs and bare feet was still quite pale. She wondered how long it would be until his usual tan returned. "You listened?"

Alan smiled slightly at her tone. "She … persuaded me to."

"And?"

"And … I realised that she's been talking a lot of sense. And that maybe … maybe I should have listened earlier."

It was a big omission, coming from Alan. Tin-Tin knew better than to mock him, as Gordon might, or say something pointed like Scott would have. Instead she simply waited patiently for him to continue.

"I've just been so angry all the time," he muttered at length, not looking at her. "Hating what happened, hating my family for constantly fussing about it, hating the whole damn situation. Bottling everything up inside. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode." His hands balled into fists, catching up grains of sand between his fingers. "It's all so unfair."

Tin-Tin dug her feet into the sand and didn't say anything.

"It's unfair," Alan repeated, his voice growing louder. "And it makes me so mad. I mean, what did I do to deserve this? I risk my life on a daily basis to help other people. Isn't that good enough in the cosmic balance of things? Am I supposed to be some kind of saint to stop things like this happening to me?"

"I don't think life works that way."

"Well it should. Bad things shouldn't happen to good people. It's like – it's like I'm being punished or something. Haven't I been good enough, Tin-Tin? I know I've made mistakes, and sometimes I've hurt other people but hasn't everyone? What did I do that was so bad that I had to be almost killed to make up for it?"

"Alan, Alan listen to me." She rose up on her knees, grasping his wrists and forcing him to look at her. "Listen. It's okay to be angry. It's okay to feel that what's happened is unfair. And it's okay to be scared and upset."

"Try telling my dad – "

"No, just listen for a minute. Please. I know we've been telling you this for weeks but please, try and really hear it this time. It's okay to feel. Be angry, be furious, be scared – be whatever you want to be! But be something, because this ghost-like Alan that's been drifting around for the last few months is scaring all of us." She let a faint smile creep onto her face. "Why do you think your family's been treating you like china? Because they're so scared that one day they'll say the wrong thing, or look at you the wrong way and you'll just fade away to nothing. And who will be left to pick up the pieces again, hmm? They love you, Alan. Stop pushing them away and let them help you get over this." Her voice softened. "Let me help you."

Tin-Tin held her breath as Alan considered her words. He'd heard them before of course, many times and from many different members of his family. But something in his demeanour today – that tiny glimpse of the old Alan that she'd seen in the lounge – something had told her it might be worth saying them again. Maybe it was just her foolish hope talking but it wasn't like she had anything to loose. Things couldn't get any worse than they were right now.

"You know … for a moment there I thought you were channelling Doctor Tomass."

Tin-Tin blinked. She had been expecting a cold dismissal. "Really?"

"Yeah. It was spooky." The corner of his mouth curved upwards. "You know you should listen to something when two incredibly smart, beautiful women say it to you."

He thinks I'm incredibly smart and beautiful? Tin-Tin felt a giddy rush of pleasure spill over her like sunlight. It had been a long time since Alan had said anything like that.

"It's been hard, hasn't it? And I don't just mean for me … I mean for everyone."

Tin-Tin's thoughts faltered in the face of such an un-Alan-like statement.

"I've been so focused on my own problems that I haven't even considered how this has been affecting my family. Affecting you." He ran a hand through his blond hair, unruly from lack of attention in these past months and pushed it back out of his eyes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is … I'm sorry. And I'll try harder in the future. And I'll try – I'll try to let you help me. If I can."

One stubborn curl still hung over his face and it was the most natural thing in the world for Tin-Tin to reach across and tuck it behind his ear. He caught her hand and turned it over, linking his fingers through hers. Their faces were so close that Tin-Tin could feel Alan's warm breath on her cheek. He smelled faintly of those cheesy potato chips he liked so much; he must have taken a packet with him to New Zealand. The thought made her giggle and Alan pulled back slightly, frowning. "What?"

He looked so adorable, pouting like that. "Oh Alan, I've missed you." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

Alan looked so startled that for a few seconds, Tin-Tin thought she'd made a horrible mistake. Ruined the moment and pushed him too far, too quickly. But then his face cleared and he pulled her close, his lips covering hers with such strength that it was her turn to be surprised. Any kind of intimate contact between them had been muted and brief in the months since Alan's emotions had started spiralling out of control – she'd almost forgotten that kissing him could feel this good. It was intoxicating.

Tin-Tin's inhibitions slipped away and she responded in kind, pressing herself against Alan. Her hands slid up underneath his blue shirt to stroke the warm skin of his spine. He trailed kisses down her throat and she sighed with pleasure. This was the Alan she was used to. The Alan she loved.

"Last time I looked, this wasn't supposed to be an X-rated beach."

Tin-Tin squeaked and pushed Alan off her. He fell back onto the sand with a whuff of surprise and she scrambled up onto her knees. "Oh God – are you alright, Alan?"

"Yeah," he managed, brushing sand off himself. He raised his head and looked back up the beach. "Thanks for that, Gordon."

His copper-haired brother gave them a lazy salute as he stepped out into the sunlight. "Just doing the public a favour. For decencies sake. You do know the nudist beach is further along the coast …?" He arched his eyebrow in Tin-Tin's direction.

It was only then that she realised Alan's clever fingers had managed to unbutton a few too many of her shirt buttons, and the lacy red bra she'd put on specially this morning was clearly showing.

"Seems I was right about you dressing up for a certain somebody …" He leered at her as she buttoned up her shirt.

As much as Tin-Tin usually got on well with Alan's brothers, right then she could have cheerfully throttled Gordon for ruining the moment. In fact, she was surprised Alan hadn't beaten her to it, particularly with the mood he'd been in lately. It only took small things to tip him over the edge – and with Gordon, nothing was ever small. The anger should have surfaced by now.

She risked a glance across at Alan. He was leaning back on his elbows, squinting up at his brother, and the expression on his face was … irritated certainly, but there were also traces of long-suffering humour brought about by Gordon's words. It was enough to make Tin-Tin want to throw her arms around him again. It hadn't just been a figment of her hopeful imagination; Alan was slowly making his way back to them.

"Gordon, did you want something specific, or did you just come down here to be annoying?"

"As much fun as destroying your romantic chances is, I'm under orders from the old man. Dinner's being served and your presence is required."

Alan pulled a face and Tin-Tin wondered how long it would be before Jeff Tracy stopped babying his son. "Did you point out to Dad that I've been able to feed myself for over ten years now?"

Gordon shrugged. "He barked – I jumped. You know how it goes. Now are you coming? Some of us like relying on other people feeding us."

"Gimme a moment."

Alan pulled himself up onto his knees and fumbled for the crutch. He struggled to stand and Tin-Tin bit her lip, fingers itching to help. A glance at Gordon's face told her he felt the same, but they both hesitated.

Alan finally got himself upright and just as he was about to start moving up the beach, the crutch slipped out from under his arm and fell back down onto the sand. He cursed and started to bend down, but his body betrayed him and he swayed, breathing heavily. Finally, he raised his head and looked across at them.

"A little help?"

Holding back the beam of triumph she wanted to unleash, Tin-Tin scooped the crutch up and handed it back to him. He met her gaze from underneath a forest of blond curls and his lips curved into the smallest hint of a smile.

"Thanks."