Chapter 7: A Starless Night
John stood and took his tumbler to the dispenser to refill it. "Do you want more?"
Scott lifted his own cup, sloshing it around but then shook his head. "Nah."
John shrugged and sat down again to continue, but the beeping of an incoming comm signal stopped him.
"This is Thunderbird 5."
"John. Alan and Gordon are driving me crazy." It was Virgil, and he sounded like he was in a small enclosed space. "They know Scott is home and are freaking out because they can't find him. They tried to call you, but you apparently have blocked all calls from them."
"I said I didn't want to be interrupted." John raised his eyebrows at Scott and allowed himself a small grin.
"John. I am hiding in the pantry. I have to have something to tell them."
"Tell them we're having a meeting of upper management."
"Wait, I'm not part of upper management?"
"No, you're the middle child, so you're middle management."
There was silence over the comm. John couldn't help but smile wider at the imagined look on Virgil's face.
"John."
John sighed and looked over at Scott.
"Go ahead." Scott shrugged his shoulders in defeat.
John raised his eyebrows at Scott to be sure, but with another nod from the elder, he cleared his throat, his smile faded, and he gave the truth to Virgil. "They made Scott tell them about Afghanistan in the meeting today. So he's, understandably, a bit upset."
"Those dirty bastards!" Virgil punched something nearby and they could hear the crash of glass. "Crap, there went the pasta sauce."
John caught the small grin that appeared on Scott's face and returned it.
"Alright, I'll let the evil twins know. Though it will either rile them up, or calm them down. Not sure which."
"We'll leave it in your capable hands."
Virgil grunted in acknowledgment and closed the comm signal.
"Right, so where were we?"
"I was drugged out of my mind, apparently." Scott sighed as he rubbed his eyes and looked back to the Earth as it once again passed by them.
"Are you sure you want me to keep going?" John looked straight at him, trying make eye contact.
"Yeah. I need to know." Scott nodded and then took a deep breath before looking back and meeting John's eyes.
The sun traveled across the sky as Scott continued to look at his stars. John stayed on the floor, Scott's hands still in his hair, as he watched his father though half-closed eyes. Every time someone tried to enter the room, Jeff was there to force them out. Several nurses tried to come and check Scott's vitals but never made it past the bed. The doctor was there, but he barely avoided being hit and backed away quickly. By the time the security guards had arrived, his father was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.
John straightened up a bit when they showed up. He was still next to Scott, his hand still in his hair, but his heart had picked up its pace.
They threatened Jeff with their taser guns, but Jeff would not stand down.
John was trying to prepare himself to witness his father's convulsing body on the ground when their savior finally showed up.
"One moment. Let me talk to him, please. We'll have this straightened out." He had talked the guards down and easily pushed Jeff into the room, shutting the door behind him.
"Thank God you're here. George, you have to talk some sense into them."
"Ow!" John was in shock for a moment and then started to yell in pain. "Ow! Scott! Let go! Dad! Help!"
Scott had grabbed John's hair in a tight fist and was pulling on it, hard.
"Scott." Jeff was next to him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on the hand in John's hair, trying to loosen his fingers a little. "Scott, look at me."
Scott's eyes had grown wide but slowly they looked over at his father and closed them—it almost looked as if he had gone to sleep, but slowly they opened again, and he smiled. His hand loosened from John's hair. "Hi, Dad. Where's Johnny?"
John had scooted away as soon as he could, a couple of painful tears running down his face as he rubbed at his scalp. His cheeks were red and it felt like his heart was going to escape from his chest at any moment. He looked over at Scott's hand—there were quite a few red hairs still in it.
"He's here. Just over there."
"Hey, Johnny. Why aren't you looking at the stars?"
John didn't reply, he just pulled his knees to his chest and watched his brother. He was worried about the drastic shift in his brother's emotions and what had caused it. Scott had never pulled his hair, that just wasn't something any of his brothers had done.
"Scotty, I need you to go to sleep."
"Okay, Dad." Scott then closed his eyes but did not sleep.
"See what I mean?" Jeff had stood and turned back toward the man. "He's been drugged into numbness. Has no idea what is going on. George, you have to help!"
"Dad!" John had jumped to his feet and was staring down at Scott, though keeping his back to the wall, his hand unconsciously going to his scalp that was still throbbing.
Scott was sitting in his chair, his eyes wide and his hands grabbing the arms so hard they were shaking from the force of it.
"What happened?" Jeff was down next to Scott again, soothing him, talking to him.
"I think it was when you called Mr. Davis' name." John looked over at the lawyer—one of his Dad's oldest friends.
"I haven't seen Scott in years." Mr. Davis frowned.
"Scott." John hesitated for a moment but then kneeled down in front of Scott, his hands on top of Scott's. "Who is George?"
"He's dead." Scott spit out the words, his hands shaking even more under John's.
"Who was he?" John corrected.
"C… Captain Heinz."
"Heinz… I don't remember a Heinz. Wasn't his commanding officer, was it?" John was trying his best not to shake himself, trying to send calming waves to his brother.
"No, his commanding officer was a Captain Barns, I believe." Jeff kept his hand on Scott's shoulder, ready to act should Scott do something unexpected.
Scott shook his head and looked down. "C… Captain Barns' spotter…"
Understanding shot through the both of them. They knew Scott had been shot down. Knew that there had been two planes shot down. Knew that three had returned: Scott, Captain Bradley Barns, and a missing GDF soldier. That was all that they had been told. However, in all the unknown, they could see some facts for themselves. Each plane had one pilot and one spotter/navigator. Only two of the four had returned. Because of this, they had known that Paul Rand—Scott's best friend—had died. Now they knew the identity of the other one, George Heinz.
"Alright, Scotty. It's alright. You're safe." Jeff patted at Scott's hair, smoothing it down.
Slowly his hands relaxed and he leaned his head onto the glass of the window.
Jeff moved away from Scott, taking Mr. Davis off to the side. "Geor… Davis. Tell me you brought good news."
"I brought news, but I'm sure you're not going to like it."
"Out with it, then."
"The fact is, you are not Scott's POA. Without his POA here, there is nothing you can do. Scott is stuck here."
"Who the hell is his POA?" John stood, kept a hand on Scott's, but he couldn't stop them from shaking. If their father wasn't his POA, who had Scott chosen?
"Virgil." Jeff sighed. "Out of all six of us—seven including Grandma Tracy—Virgil is the most level-headed. So Scott had decided to make him his POA, knowing he would be sure to make the right decision without being overly blinded by emotion."
"Well, get his ass here and everything is solved."
"Not that simple. He's off the grid at the moment."
"Off the what? Why?" John took a step from Scott but glanced back a few times to make sure he was still calm and looking out of the window.
"He's scouting out islands for me."
"Islands? What the hell for?" John's head snapped back to his father, and he took the few steps so that they were even with each other.
"Not now, we don't have time for explanations. The fact is, he is not available."
"Well, since that is the case we might be able to get a judge to change his POA."
"Right, we'll do that. Make me his POA."
"That may not be a good idea."
"And why not?" Jeff puffed up his chest, challenging the lawyer.
"The man who has conveniently made his POA unavailable, and has physically threatened not only his doctor but several nurses, as well as lock himself in the room with the patient? Yeah, sorry, Jeff, a judge isn't going to touch that."
"Then how about me?" John held his breath as he straightened up and met eyes with the old lawyer.
"Hmm… well, have you done any of the aforementioned things?"
"I bargained for his list of meds to keep Dad from attacking the nurse last night."
"They gave you a list of his meds?"
"Yeah. Which I suddenly realize that they should not have done." John frowned and looked between his father and Mr. Davis. "You could use that, couldn't you?"
"I can." Mr. Davis nodded. "Alright. We'll try and get John as his POA."
"How long is that going to take?" Jeff had started to pace again, glancing over at Scott on every turn.
"A few days at least."
"What are we going to do till then?"
"I'm afraid you are going to have to go to your hotel room and wait."
"What the hell?" Jeff stopped and threw his hands in the air, ready to argue.
Mr. Davis reached up and pulled Jeff's hands back down to his sides. "Jeff. Right now, neither of you have any authority over what happens to Scott. To get a judge to allow the change of POA, we're going to have to show him that you are willing to abide by the law as it stands right now. I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but that is how it is."
John could tell his father was consciously debating whether or not to punch one of his friends or not. He was worried about Scott, he didn't want to leave him, but he had to step back and figure out what was best. "Dad, let's do what Mr. Davis says. Keep looking for a doctor, and as soon as he can get the POA changed, we'll get Scott out of here."
"Listen to your boy, Jeff. Otherwise you could end up and jail and Scott is here until Virgil comes back."
"Jeff Tracy in jail." John raised his voice a bit to make sure his father heard. "The press would go crazy over that and it wouldn't take them long to find out about Scott." John pulled on his father's arm, trying to make him see sense. "Do you want Scott's situation to become the newest gossip sensation? Do you want Gordon and Alan to find out about Scott like that?"
"No, of course not," Jeff grumbled, acknowledging the wisdom in John's words, and let his shoulders sagged. "Can we come and visit him?"
"I don't think that would be wise at the moment. I'll see if Joyce can come and check on him, give you a daily report."
"I'd hate to drag your wife into this."
"She's always adored your boys. She won't mind."
"Alright." Jeff ran his hands roughly through his hair. "Let me just say goodbye."
Mr. Davis nodded and Jeff turned, kneeling down next to Scott.
"Hey, Dad." Scott was looking at them again, playing with some of John's hair he had pulled out.
"Hey, Scotty. Johnny and I have to leave for a bit. Okay?"
"Johnny's here. Did you see Johnny?"
"We'll be gone for a bit, but Aunt Joyce will be by to see you. You remember Aunt Joyce, right?"
"Hi, Dad."
Jeff held Scott's face between his hands and laid his forehead on Scotts'. "I love you, son, if you can understand anything, please, understand that." He then lifted his head and kissed Scott's forehead before turning away.
"Hey, Scotty." John sat on the arm of the couch and laid his hands on top of Scott's once again.
"Johnny!"
"Be strong, alright, Scotty?"
"Will you look at the stars with me?"
"Not tonight, Scotty. But soon. I promise." John had to take some deep breaths to keep himself from breaking down in front of his brother.
"Okay." Scott nodded and then turned to look out the window again.
John stood up, leaned over, and kissed his brother on the forehead and then joined his dad at the door. Mr. Davis ushered them out, and they left peacefully.
John sat in his normal place at the desk with his father's laptop open before him. He was doing as much research as he could into the drugs they were giving Scott. He was even finding message boards for the doctors and distributors of the drugs to see what they said about them. A couple of times, he even pretended to be a doctor himself so he could see what their reactions would be to the doses Scott had been given.
What he found out did not help ease his worry at all. The two reasons he found as to why some doctors gave their patients slightly higher doses was to keep them calm or because of high resistance due to previous drug addictions. Scott had never taken anything stronger than a tylenol in his entire life. So the only reason he could see as to why his doctor was dosing him high was to keep him oblivious and make his own job easier. John wished he could scout some of the doctors that argued against this practice, but the message board was anonymous.
"How are you coming along, Dad?" John shut the computer and sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration of not being able to do anything with everything he was learning.
Jeff Tracy was pacing around the room as he talked on the phone. He had just hung up after another disappointing attempt to reach one of the few doctors he had deemed worthy to look after his son. "They're all too damn busy. Can't get an appointment for at least three months!"
"Isn't there anyone else you can call?"
"I have others looking as well, but… damn, I don't know what we're going to do if we can't find anyone."
John stood and met his father in the middle of the room. "Don't worry, you'll find someone."
Jeff pulled his son into a hug, surprising him for a moment, and buried his face in his hair. "Thank you."
"For what?" John was holding him just as tight, taking in the smell of his father—a mix of Scotch and Old Spice.
"For anything I forgot to thank you for, for anything I will forget to thank you for, but mostly for being there when Scott needed you the most, and being there for me when I needed you the most."
"We're family. You taught us to be there for each other."
"And I couldn't be prouder."
The sound of the doorbell echoed through the suite, causing the two men to separate with embarrassed smiles. Jeff walked over to the door, rubbing his nose, and opened it to the person on the other side. "Joyce, I wasn't expecting you so soon."
The woman on the other side of the door was tall and thin, her graying black hair was in a short bob, and she wore a worried look on her face. "They have strict visitation restrictions on Scott." She sighed as she walked past Jeff and into the suite. "John, come here and give me some hugs."
John was a little embarrassed but obeyed. "How was Scott doing, Aunt Joyce?"
She sighed again as she let John go and looked between the two. "I wish I could say he was looking good, but I doubt he looked much different than when George was there yesterday. He just sat in his chair by the window looking out into space. And I mean space, kept saying he was looking at the stars, waiting for John to come home and show him the constellations."
"He was doing that yesterday." John sighed, rubbing his face.
"But it was the middle of the day."
"I know."
"George said he was being overdosed, but I just couldn't believe it until I had seen it." She turned to look at Jeff and put a hand on his arm. "He wanted me to tell you that he has an appointment with a judge tomorrow. Hopefully they'll get something done by the end of the day."
"I hope."
"Don't worry, Jeff. Things will work out. I'm sure of it."
"I know." Jeff reached over and patted her hand. "It's just hard to believe that at the moment."
The silence that had fallen over the small group was broken when the phone in Jeff's hand started to ring. He pulled away from his friend as he answered the call.
"Hugh, please tell me you have something. Yeah? Hmm. Are you sure? A researcher? Not a practicing physician? Will she come here, though? I'm afraid to move Scott too much. She will? That's good news. Finally. Oh, yes, I've been meaning to talk to her as well. She will be most welcome. Yes. Yes. Alright. Thank you, old friend. I can't thank you enough. Bye."
"Dad?" John watched his father as his face transformed and some hope flittered across it.
"Found one," Jeff announced as he ended the call. "She's not a practicing doctor, but researches the effects and treatment of PTSD. Apparently top in her field."
"Great. Is she coming here, then?"
"Not here. We'll met her in San Francisco once we get Scott out of that asylum."
All three were smiling, the hope catching on among them. Jeff pulled out a bottle of Scotch from the suite's bar and poured them each a dram. A toast, they were just one step closer to helping Scott come back to them once more.
Four days. It took George Davis four days to get Scott's POA changed to John. The judge he had went to had been hesitant to touch the case—psych cases were always complicated and messy, but after arguing with him, the judge relented and looked over the file. At first, the judge was willing to give POA to someone outside of the family, a neutral third party, but Mr. Davis argued on John' behalf, and finally the judge gave in.
Scott now sat in a penthouse in San Francisco, in a chair by the window looking at his stars. Only this time it was night, but with the lights of the city, the sky was just as empty as it had been before. The doors to the balcony nearby were locked, the key hidden somewhere in Jeff's room. They weren't going to take any chances. Jeff and John sat on a couch nearby with their company, two ladies from England. One of the ladies, the younger one, was around the same age as Scott. She was Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, the daughter of his friend Sir Hugh Creighton-Ward. The other was Doctor Amelia Holland.
"Lady Penelope. It has been far too long. How is your father doing?"
"Just fine, Mr. Tracy. He sends his regards."
"Great, great. Send mine back as well."
"I will be sure to do just that." Lady Penelope smiled as she glanced over at John. "And is this another of your sons?"
"Oh yes. I suppose it has been quite a long time since you saw each other. Before Alan was born, I think. This is my second eldest, John."
"Pleasure to meet you, Lady Penelope." John nodded his head in her direction, grateful they weren't standing and that he'd be required to shake her hand—or would he have to kiss it? He really didn't know what he was supposed to do around aristocracy and didn't have the time to look it up.
"You as well." Lady Penelope nodded her head in reply, a shy smile playing on her lips. "This is the doctor my father mentioned, Amelia Holland. She has published quite a few papers on the subject of PTSD."
"That is what your father said." Jeff nodded as he turned to face the doctor. "Please tell me about yourself."
"Well, I graduated from Cambridge with my undergraduate degree and my masters in Psychology. I then went to Harvard for medical school, completed my residency at Massachusetts General Hospital. Upon completing my obligations there, I returned to England and began practicing. I was asked to join a group of researchers in London soon after and began my research into PTSD, looking first at soldiers that had come back from some of the previous wars starting in the mid twentieth century and World War I. I just recently wrapped up some research with soldiers during the Great Conflict and have started seeing patients again concentrating on those suffering from PTSD."
"I see." Jeff nodded. "And what are your general beliefs as far as treatment?"
"It seems that the most common course of treatment for PTSD is to start giving them medicine. I don't think that is right. There are some cases where it has proven helpful, but in the long run, I think it does more harm than good. I think the biggest help lies with getting the story out of them and getting them to accept what has happened. They will never completely get over it, but once they accept what has happened, I have found that low dosage use of antidepressants will sometimes help in getting back into work and family. However, sometimes it is the family that causes the biggest hurdle in getting better. I find that if the family is ashamed of them, or trying to hide them away, they do more harm. Even if they are trying to do right by them."
"Are you suggesting that I'm trying to hide my son's condition?" Jeff frowned and his shields were suddenly raised.
"I am suggesting that secrets only hinder the healing process. You have five sons, I believe."
"I do." Jeff's brows lowered. It wasn't hard information to come by, but the fact that she was already prying into their lives alarmed him a little.
"Mr. Tracy. I am sure you have done just as much research on me as I have on you. I would suggest that the entire family be aware of what is going on with Scott. If he has his family's support, it can only help."
"No." John was looking down at his hands as he spoke. He was unsure about most things that were going on around him at the moment, but this was one thing he was sure Scott would agree with him on. "Scott wouldn't want them to know. At least not yet."
"We are not talking about what he would want. It is what is best for him."
"Still. I don't want them to know. Eventually, yes, but not right now. Gordon is only a few months into his year on the seabed, Alan is in his first semester of college, and Virgil is… well, I honestly don't know what Virgil is up to, but they don't need to know. They don't need any added stress to their lives right now."
"What about Christmas? Aren't they going to be curious about where Scott is? What are you going to do with him?"
"I don't know. We'll figure something out." His argument was weak, he knew. She had brought up some very good points, especially since—not just Christmas—but Thanksgiving was only a week away.
"Doctor Holland. I have to agree with my son on this one. We will tell the others only when we deem it necessary. If that changes your mind about helping us, I'm sorry."
"Oh, no. I said I would help you and I will. As long as you don't mind constantly fighting with me over this subject."
Jeff frowned but shook his head. "I don't think I'm in a position to argue too much about it. You are the only one we've been able to get to come out here."
"Yes, we can discuss the details of that later. May I go talk to Scott?"
"By all means."
Dr. Holland stood and walked gracefully over to where Scott sat. She kneeled down before him and gently laid a hand on his knee.
He jerked a little but slowly looked down at her.
"Scott. My name is Amelia."
"That's a pretty name."
"Thank you. Do you know what happened to you?"
"I'm tired."
"I see. Scott?"
"Hi!" Scott smiled down at her. "Who are you?"
She didn't sound exasperated or annoyed, but answered in the same pleasant voice. "My name is Amelia."
"Hi, Amelia."
"Who are you Scott?"
"I'm Scott. That's my dad. Hey, Johnny! You want to look at the stars? They're really pretty tonight."
The doctor patted his leg and stood. "Do you have a printout of his medications he received during his stay in the hospital?"
"Yes." John jumped to his feet and hurried over to the kitchen counter where the sheets of paper lay. He walked over to her and handed her the papers while he reached up and petted Scott's hair, trying to keep his hand busy so it wasn't obvious as to how anxious he was.
"And when did you take him from the hospital?"
"Just this afternoon. About six hour ago."
"I see." She was frowning at the pages in front of her as she read. Once she had reached the end, she lowered the list and frowned down at Scott.
"Is there something wrong?"
"There are a lot of things wrong, but that is why I'm here." She smiled a little as she looked up at John and then over at Jeff. "Things are only going to get worse as the night goes on."
"What do you mean?" Jeff stood and took a few steps toward her.
"While he was not on the medication very long—thankfully not long enough for his body to become dependent on it—we may still see some withdrawal symptoms." "What kind of symptoms?"
"Well, panic attacks, dizziness, fatigue, insomnia, loss of appetite, mood swings, nausea, or OCD. There is still a slight chance, because of the higher doses, he does have some dependency to the drugs we might see some more serious symptoms like confusion, delusions, hallucinations, thoughts of homicide, thoughts of suicide, or violence."
"That sounds like a lot of what we're dealing with right now." John looked down at Scott, who was smiling and humming to himself.
"No, what I'm talking about are extreme." She walked over to the balcony door and pulled on it. "Where is the key?"
"Hidden in my room."
"Hide it in your office at work. Get rid of any sort of knife. Actually, all utensils. You'll be ordering out from now on."
"That's going to get a bit expensive." Jeff frowned.
"I do not think it will break your wallet that easily." The doctor started walking around the apartment, inspecting various things. "The cords from the blinds and curtains need to be taken away or bound up tightly. Linen closets need to be locked. Medicine cabinets emptied. Keys left somewhere out of sight. Anything that could be used as a weapon against you or against himself needs to be locked away. Scott is not to be left alone. We'll have to get him through this detoxing before we can make any headway with the PTSD."
John and Jeff just stood and watched as she made her way around the room, following her as she pointed out to various things and gave instructions.
She had made a loop of the living area and turned to look at the two men. "You should be moving right now. According to these records, he was due another round of medicine an hour ago. In a couple more hours, we may start to see some symptoms."
John glanced over to Scott, still calm and carefree in his chair, and worried just how bad it was going to get.
