Left by the Wayside

by Criminally Charmed

Disclaimer - see chapter one

Note - Wow. You like me torturing the Tracys, don't you? Well, here is some more.

Chapter Two – It Doesn't Matter How Hard You Try

"And here's to Tracy, the boy-wonder!" Sam Johnson laughed, raising the glass with his milk-shake in it as the group of teenage boys joined in.

Alan Tracy blushed slightly, ducking his head. "C'mon, you jerks," he muttered, trying to hide from his friends.

"R-really, A-Alan," his friend Fermat Hackenbacker stuttered. "Y-you did ou-ou-ou…You did great."

"Yeah, Alan," Mario Gomez agreed. "From C's to straight A's in one fell swoop? AND the look on the dean's face when he had to list you as one of the students approved for the Advanced Placement courses for next year? I thought the old man was going to choke on his own mustache!"

Smiling, Alan played with his pizza slice. He couldn't wait until his dad came to pick them up tomorrow. Underclassmen were dismissed two days before the Seniors, allowing the students preparing to graduate Wharton's more free space. Jeff had promised his youngest son that if the boy pulled up his grades enough, they would take a detour before heading back to the island. Alan had no idea what his dad had planned and he personally didn't care. One-on-one time with his father was precious and rare – Alan planned to make the most of it.

"Tracy!"

The boys all turned to see Coach Michaels approaching them. He grinned at the boys before looking a bit more seriously at Alan. "Pizza and milk shakes? I sure hope that you plan to eat better next fall." When Alan looked puzzled, the coach's grin returned in full.

"Members of the track team are expected to eat right, Tracy."

Alan's eyes went wide at the answer, looking past the coach to where the man had been standing earlier – by the bulletin board. Jumping up, Alan ran over and whooped as he read the team roster for the fall semester.

"One mile, hurdles, and alternate on the relay team! Awesome!" Alan's eyes were dancing as his friends pounded him on the back. Even Fermat got into the act, until his excitement caused him to need his nebulizer.

But not everyone in the room was happy for the youngest Tracy son. Hard eyes glared at the youth. Barry Sheehan watched Alan with disdain as he waited for his own friend to join him.

Paul Han looked at the celebrating teens before switching his gaze to Barry. "What's up with them?"

"Golden Boy Tracy wins again," Barry sneered.

Seeing the team list by Alan's head, Paul shrugged. "Coach has been trying to get him to join the team ever since he saw him out running. One of his older brothers - not the one that won the Gold medal at the Olympics, the one who wrote my astronomy text book – was a track star for Harvard. The whole family is really athletic. At least, that was what they wrote in People."

Barry shook his head. "It's just not fair, Paul. Kid's dad walks in space and now he gets everything. Money, fame, gets into the AP program and onto the track team. It must be nice to have a rich father to grease the wheels."

Paul looked as if he wanted to argue with his friend but decided it wasn't worth it. Barry could really have a hard-on about the rich. Both of the seniors were scholarship students who also held work-study jobs in addition to their classes. Paul's scholarship to Wharton's was based on academics, so it was no surprise that he had been offered another full-ride, this one to Cal-Sci. He would be glad when he headed to the exclusive LA County school. His family was from that area and Paul had missed the California sunshine.

But Barry was on an athletic scholarship. While he had hoped his soccer prowess would score him a spot at a big-ten Ivy League college, he had been lucky to get one to a small mid-west university. Full rides for athletics were not as readily available as many would think and the partial scholarships the bigger schools had offered had still been out of the young man's reach. To see someone like Alan Tracy clawed at him, filling him with envy at the opportunities that would be available to a son of Jeff Tracy.

While Barry continued to glare at Alan, who had rejoined his friends at their table, Paul gave a small smile. He knew that something had happened over Spring Break, something that had really changed Alan Tracy. The kid put one hundred and ten percent into everything these days. If the younger boy was making things happen, it was all of his own doing. Paul had spoken on a few occasions to Fermat Hackenbacker, Alan's roommate. Apparently, Fermat's father worked for Jeff Tracy and the billionaire even paid for the boy's education as part of the elder Hackenbacker's benefits.

It had been Fermat that had let slip that a lot of Alan's misbehaving was more homesickness than anything. Maybe the family had finally let the kid know how much he was loved and missed. Paul often thought that was what a lot of these rich kids needed – to know that they were as important to their family as the next big deal or government talks or exotic vacation.

Paul knew nothing he could say to Barry would change his friend's mind, so he chose to remain silent.

At their table, Alan and his friends were blissfully unaware of the daggers being shot at them from the juice bar. They continued to laugh and joke until Alan's attention was drawn away from the group by a news broadcast. Standing, he moved closer to the large flat screen television mounted on the wall.

"This is Lisa Lowe, reporting to you live from outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico. A government research facility was the site of a horrific explosion today. The irony was that this facility, where research into new energy sources was going on, was destroyed by a source of energy – a bolt of lightening. While the exact details will not be released until after a full investigation, it became clear that the twenty-six researchers trapped inside could not be rescued by traditional methods. A call went out to the Thunderbirds."

Alan smiled slightly at the sight of the footage being run of his family arriving on the scene. A small disclaimer of "filmed earlier" ran at the bottom of the screen. The reporter began to speak again.

The Thunderbirds, with their magnificent machinery, were able to get to twenty-five of the researchers, leading them to safety. I am told the team's commander himself plunged deeper into the inferno, searching for the lead researcher. Tragically, he apparently found the man dead. The body was later removed after the fire was brought under control. We have been told that the identity of the man will be held until next of kin can be contacted.

As the blonde reporter signed off, Alan worried his lower lip. So focused on how the loss of even one person would affect his family, the youngest Tracy jumped when a hand grasped his shoulder.

"Hey, Al," Sam grinned at the boy. "You so busy watching your heroes that you wanna skip out on your own tribute?"

Alan smiled weakly before shrugging. "Nah, it just reminded me I wanted to call my dad and see when he would arrive tomorrow." Waving at the table, Alan left the snack bar/ recreation area to head back towards his dorm room. He wanted privacy to talk with his father when he checked on his family's well-being.

Fermat watched his friend as Alan left. He really hoped Mr. Tracy did come with his father tomorrow to pick them up. Alan really needed to see that his father was considering the boy a priority in his life or all the progress the youngest son had made since Spring Break could rapidly dissolve.

Jeff Tracy was sitting at his desk, command and control still up. They had all cleaned up after the rescue and done the debriefing. Once finished, Jeff had sent his sons and Brains to bed, assuring them he would head to his own room soon. John had looked at their father with concern before allowing Scott to lead him away.

Once he was sure he was alone, Jeff pulled a small box from the bottom drawer of his desk. Several pictures and mementoes of days gone by fell from the box. Picking up one picture, Jeff felt tears prick at his eyes. It had been taken at his and Lucy's engagement party. Jack had been there with what Lucy called his "flavor of the month". Seeing the look on Jack's face in the photograph, Jeff knew why his old friend has never committed to one woman. It had not been that the ability to love someone in that way was alien to Jack. It had been the fact that the only woman he had ever wanted that way had married his closest friend.

Over the years, Jeff had caught the way Jack would look at Lucy. It wasn't covetous or lustful. But it was the same look Jeff had in his own eyes when he looked at his wife. And Jack had grieved as deeply as Jeff when Lucy died. Unlike Jeff, however, Jack had not cut the boys from his life for a time. As soon as Jeff began burying himself in work, Jack had placed his own career in stasis for the nearly three years it took Jeff to pull his head out of his posterior. Frankly, Jeff didn't think any of his sons would have done so well if "Uncle Jack" hadn't helped out as much as he had.

When Jeff began to form the intent for International Rescue, Jack recommitted himself to his work. The research had already begun for his top-secret project and the day after Alan's sixth birthday, Jack Roy had left Kansas, heading for New Mexico to start the practical side of his work. By the time Jeff moved his family to Tracy Island, the youngest Tracy would barely remember Jack Roy.

As if the brief thought of Alan had triggered a reaction, Jeff's vid-phone began to signal an incoming call. Jeff considered ignoring the summons when he saw the ID indicate it was Alan.

Sighing, Jeff failed to connect Alan's current "can-do" attitude with the boy whose face filled the screen. Instead, the Tracy father seemed to be flashing back to the days when calls from his youngest son were something to dread.

"What is it Alan?"

Shaken slightly at his father's tone, Alan decided hanging up would be worse than pushing forward.

"I saw the rescue on the vid at the snack shop and-" Jeff cut in on Alan's words at that point, startling the teen into silence.

"The snack shop? Aren't you in the middle of finals? For the love of – Alan, can't you commit to anything? You promised me that if you went back to Wharton's it would be with a good attitude. I suppose you barely passed any of your classes and now you just want to come home to play at being a Thunderbird. Well, you are in for a big surprise young man-"

Now it was Jeff's turn for his words to be cut off as he finally looked, really looked at his teenage son. Alan's expressive blue eyes had gone from shocked to heartbroken in a matter of moments. Jeff knew it had been his own grief over Jack's death searching for someone to hurt as badly as he himself currently was. Sadly, Jeff Tracy was painfully aware that he had succeeded. Alan had always been far more sensitive than he let the world see. And no one had the power to hurt the youngest Tracy more than his own family.

Especially the father he hero-worshiped.

"I'm sorry I've been such a disappointment to you, sir. Don't worry about coming tomorrow. I'll hitch a ride home with Brains and Fermat. I don't want to be a bother." Before Jeff could even begin to apologize, Alan terminated the call.

Staring at the now darkened screen, Jeff buried his face in his hands. Oh, God, Allie – I am so sorry.

Alan sat in his dorm room for a moment before wiping furiously at the tears that had gathered in his eyes. Since they had been playing a pick-up game of basketball before heading for pizza, Alan was already dressed in gym shorts and a t-shirt. Quickly switching his sneakers for his track shoes, Alan scribbled a quick note to Fermat.

Thirty minutes after Alan had left the room, Fermat returned to it. Opening the door, the myopic youth found his greeting dying on his lips as he looked around the empty room.

Most of Alan's and Fermat's belongings were already packed and ready to go when their fathers arrived the next day. The Hackenbackers were planning on flying commercial to California on their way back, so that they could stop and see some old friends in Los Angeles. Alan didn't know it yet, but the Tracys were supposed to spend a few days in New York together before heading back to the Island. It wasn't two weeks in Disney World but to both sons it would mean the world.

Moving over to the vid-phone, Fermat found Alan's note propped up against it.

Fermat –

I needed some air. Went for a run. May not be back until late. Head to bed, don't worry about me.

I know your dad wants you to meet some old friends from Cal-Tech, but if needed, can I hitch a ride back with you?

~ Alan

"Oh, A-Alan," Fermat sighed. "What s-set you and your d-dad off this t-time?"

Knowing he wouldn't get an answer tonight, Fermat sighed again before heading to bed. Tomorrow looked like it would be a long day.

Barry Sheehan hated many things about Wharton's. He hated the fact that he was here by virtue of a talent yet looked down on by others who were only here because of their families' wealth and connections. He hated the fact that his scholarship paid for his room, board and tuition but any necessities or luxuries were something he had to pay for himself. It was why students like Barry or Paul worked their part-time jobs at the school. While the jobs paid better than similar ones would off-campus and their "bosses" were far more accommodating than others would be, understanding that their Wharton's commitments always came first, being seen doing "servants" work by their fellow students always made Barry feel as if the school was trying to underscore the differences between the two groups.

But the one thing Barry did like about his part-time job was the access it gave him. Early on, Barry had discovered that only the main gate was manned by security after nine at night. The others were secured and left locked until the morning. Most of the nighttime security was focused on the dormitory area, so as to protect the "assets" of the rich and famous.

With this knowledge and access, Barry had been able to make a copy of the pass-key to the back gate and the access road that was usually used for supply deliveries. He had also scored a key to one of the school's "unmarked" cars. There was a magnetic sign that could be placed on any of the vehicles but sometimes not advertising the fact that the car belonged to the exclusive boys' school was considered yet another security feature. But all this meant to Barry was that he could sneak off campus to attend parties and no one at Wharton's was ever the wiser.

Paul had known about Barry's extracurricular activities for some time, but as long as his friend wasn't hurting anyone, he kept silent about them. In turn, Barry had tried to get Paul to join him for months.

"C'mon, Paul," Barry would cajole. "You gotta live a little!"

With graduation days away, and all of his hard work having paid off on a full academic scholarship to the college of his dreams, Paul had finally agreed. After all, soon Paul would be in California and Barry in Iowa. Chances were, they might never see each other again. Might as well end things on a high note…

Alan wasn't sure how long he had been running. But running allowed Alan to block out the hurtful words his father had hurled at him, and he could pretend that the only thing bothering his eyes was the pollen that still hung heavy in the night air or dust from the dirt access road he was running along at the edge of the thick woods that surrounded Wharton's…

"Oh, man," Paul groaned. "How can you do that every chance you get? I'm exhausted and my stomach wants to hurl."

Barry chuckled, the mix of beers and marijuana having raised his mood to a sufficient high. "Can't do the weed during soccer season in the fall. The school tests for steroids and it would show up as well. But it helps during the rest of the year."

Paul shook his head as he helped Barry close and secure the gate. As they climbed back into the "borrowed" car, he shrugged. It was a good thing he wasn't exactly heading for a party school. Tonight had shown him that would be a waste of time.

On the other hand, tonight had reminded Barry of some cold, hard facts. Watching the revelry, he had been forced to accept that the small college he was attending had no real party scene. But one of the other celebrants had given him the name of a contact in Des Moines, one who might be willing to help Barry get the good times rolling there. With a few joints and some beer, any place could become party-central. And Barry would be the center of everything.

Paul was busy trying not to be sick while Barry's mind was filled with thoughts of how he could turn his college disappointment into the opportunity of a life time. As such, it was too late – and their drug addled systems to slow to react – when they realized that their weaving vehicle was not the only thing on the narrow road.

There were no headlights to snag Alan's attention, since Barry had never turned them on once back on campus. Headlights in the supposedly empty part of campus could draw attention – the last thing Barry ever wanted. Lost in thought, Alan barely heard the car before the overwhelming pain consumed him.

Barry and Paul both stared in horror when they realized that someone was running along the side of the road. With Barry's delayed reaction, he actually made matters worse when he jerked at the wheel. Instead of turning away from the runner at the last moment, the car slammed into the jogger, sending the victim to the side of the road.

An early summer storm, combined with ice storms back in March, had left a great deal of debris along the side of the road. Since the road was only used for deliveries and most of the student body – forget their wealthy parents – didn't even know it existed, clean up was considered a low priority there and would not be done until summer break. It was among the broken branches and dead leaves that an injured Alan Tracy now laid.

The moon was the only light that night, but it was full and clear, allowing the two seniors to see their victim.

"Jeeze, Alan!" Paul muttered as he bent down to check on the freshman, only to be yanked back by his friend.

"Are you nuts?" Barry snapped.

"He's hurt!" Paul cried out only to have his mouth covered by Barry's beefy hand.

"If he's alive, he won't be for much longer," Barry reasoned. "And how do we explain this. Oh, headmaster, we were off campus against regulations, in a stolen car, drinking underage and using drugs. We hit some rich kid by accident, but we're real sorry. Yeah, right," he growled. "The kid dies and we go to jail instead of off to college. But if we leave him here, by the time he's found – if he's found – no one will be able to prove we had anything to do with it."

Paul looked to argue more, when he found himself pushed against the car. "Don't you get it, Paul? That's not just any rich kid. It's Jeff Tracy's son. The son of a man who walked on the moon, the son of a national hero, the son of a billionaire, the son of a living freakin' legend! Any one else, we would get a slap on the wrist and could probably still make freshman orientation at our new schools. With him, they'll toss us in the deepest pit they can find and forget about us."

Seeing Paul begin to weaken, Barry pushed his last knife home. "You gotta do this, Paul. For your family. For their future as well. You know how much this means to them. You told me how much they have sacrificed to get you this far."

Slumping, Paul crawled back into the car while Barry grabbed some branches and other natural debris and began to cover up Alan's still form. With any luck, they would act as compost and hasten decomposition of the youngest Tracy son, destroying evidence with it.

A/N - Was that sufficient Alan-whump for everyone?

I was so thrilled at the response to chapter one. Thank you so much! I appreciate the support more than I can ever say. Please, keep my momentum going and review. - CC

Alan: OMG! Scott! Did you see what that crazy woman did to me this time! She hit me with a car!

Scott: WHAT!

CC: Um, guys, I'm sorry, but the story popped into my head. See, my mom was talking to my nephew - Timmy, the one at college, he's a good kid - and she was saying how I shot you, abducted you, traumatized you, hit you with a car...And I was like - WHOA! I never hit Alan with a car.

Alan (muttering darkly): It was one of the few things you never hit me with.

CC: But Alan! You are the baby, the one everyone wants to protect and take care of. In each genre, there is one character that pushes everyones' buttons, the one person that causes the most agnst and anguish when they are hurt. In Thunderbirds genre, you are the It Guy.

Scott: Frankly, lady, you are dangerous. What's next? Some dangerous disease like scarlet fever or menengitis?

CC: (blushing) Well, actually, I gave Alan MRSA. Little Miss Bump gave him scarlet fever. Oh, and she also gave him a really bad case of chicken pox. Spense gave Alan menengitis. That was in the same series she had him kidnapped and taken from the family by Child Welfare. (sighs) That was a great series. It so inspired me to start writng about you guys.

Alan: Hey! You have to be careful, CC. You could inspire others to hurt me. (CC mutters something.)

Scott: Um, CC, what the heck was that?

CC: Scott, stop glowering at me. It so doesn't work. But I do have to say, Sammygirl1963 gave Alan malaria. She did it for my birthday. Wasn't that sweet? (Tracys both glare at her.) Um, never mind.

Alan: (sighs) Oh well, Scott. I read CC's home page. And she swears she doesn't write death fics. So this should end well.

Scott: We'll see.