Left by the Wayside
by Criminally Charmed
Disclaimer - see chapter one
Disclaimer, part 2 - I do not own the song "Anyways" by Martina McBride. Bring it up on you tube if you never heard it. It's beautiful and fits perfectly here.
WOO-HOO! Over 450!!! I am soooooooo excited!!!!
Chapter Twenty Five – It Just Doesn't Make Sense
Nathan Matthews rolled his neck, trying to release the kink in it. Sighing, he repeated the motion as a patrolman from Springfield caught the State Police Detective's attention.
"Long day?" The younger man asked.
"Long week," Matthews groaned. "You fill out any reports needed and CC them to me. I'll sign off – after all, this was you and your partner's bust, not mine."
"Well," the patrolman said, "we were glad you were there, Detective. Carlos Herrera isn't that much to deal with. But big brother is scary."
"Both the Herrera brothers are murderers now," Matthews grumbled. "The only difference is that Carlos was caught in the act."
Nodding, the Springfield officer opened his car door so that he could follow his partner to the medical division of the county lock-up when the sound of gunfire stopped him dead in his tracks. The two law enforcement officers exchanged quick glances before running towards the sound.
As they ran, Nate recalled an argument he was having with his brother-in-law, a local fireman. Most of the family was cops, so Andy was always getting teased.
"I mean, really, Andy," Nate joked over Sunday dinner last week. "Fire fighters are nuts. You run into burning buildings when everyone else is running out."
Shana didn't look up from where she was feeding Jared, Jensen having already been fed and being burped by Heather, Andy's wife. As she wiped the baby's face and placed him on her shoulder, Shana raised an eyebrow and grumbled, "And a cop running towards gunfire instead of away from it is so much saner."
Most of the family chuckled – except Eleanor, Nate's mother. The woman frowned at her daughter-in-law and looked ready to take her to task for "insulting" police officers. But Big John, the Matthews' family patriarch and retired police captain, glared at his wife. The man usually was content to let his wife rule the roost, but after she insulted Shana at Easter, the young physician had picked up her sons and headed to the door, saying neither she nor her sons were coming back until "Mother Matthews" could show her some respect. Nathan had backed his wife and it had only been two weeks since his parents had shown up at their house, his mother's apology half-heartedly given and Shana barely accepting it. The Matthews were aware that any more insults directed at the younger woman would not be tolerated by the couple. Shana was a Matthews now – even if she still used Pierce professionally – and his mother would simply have to accept that fact.
"Shana's right," Matthews grumbled as he rounded the corner into the physicians' parking lot. "Cops are nuts."
Ana Nevada had frozen when the female doctor had walked out the door, half expecting her to say something as she looked over Sheila. Her camera was still in hand as she motioned to her cousin to go. "I'll get this to you later," the reporter muttered. "If that doctor reports you talking with me, the last thing you need is to have this on you."
As Sheila slipped back into the hospital, Ana held the camera close to her side and stepped closer to the parking lot, making sure the doctor was leaving without calling security on her. Watching as the doctor approached a car where two young Latino men were lazing, Ana's eyes widened in shock as she recognized one as infamous local gang leader, Asenino Herrera. Seeing the confrontation start, she raised her camera and zoomed in on the scene. The gang leader was news worthy, if only for how many times he had escaped justice.
Suddenly, Herrera whipped out a gun that had been shoved in the waistband of the back of his jeans and shot the female doctor in the chest. The woman crumpled to the ground as Herrera and his cohort fled the scene, grabbing a man from a car that had pulled up nearby and forcing him out.
"Random shooting and a carjacking," Ana crowed. "And I got it all on film."
Seeing a uniformed police officer and another man – one who ran like a cop, even in a suit – come around the corner, Ana shoved the small camera into her bag and headed back to where her news van was parked. Did she ever have a news story now!
John pushed his plate aside, half of his sandwich still uneaten. Jeff frowned as he set his coffee mug down.
"John, you should eat -"
Shaking his head, John chewed at his lip before answering. "I'm just not that hungry, Dad." Picking up his glass of ice tea, John took a sip before he continued. "I – I just don't get it?"
"Get what, Johnny?" Gordon asked before taking a bite of his tuna melt.
"Alan is a good person," John said softly. "So why do all these lousy things happen to him?"
Jeff had begun to raise his mug back up when John's words shot the proverbial arrow into his heart. Setting the cup back onto the table, he looked over at his second son, thinking carefully before he answered.
"I asked that question once," Jeff said sadly. "Only it wasn't Alan I was asking about. I asked it about me. I was a good husband and father. Most considered me a good person; I lived by the guidelines your grandparents had taught me – faith in God, the Golden rule in how you treat people and love your family. So why did Lucy have to die and leave me? I loved her so much. Suddenly, I found myself with five sons, Alan being only three. Your grandparents helped as much as they could, but with Dad becoming sicker – well, I think I would have crumbled if not for Jack."
"I look back now and realize, if Lucy had lived, we would probably still be happy, married and living in Kansas. But," Jeff looked around quickly, making sure they were the only people on the patio before continuing. "But at what cost to the world?"
"But at what cost to Alan, Dad?" Gordon asked. "He never had normal. And he wouldn't have been hurt if we had been back in Kansas."
"Really?" Jeff asked as he took a sip of coffee. "So there are no drunk drivers in Kansas? No doctors ever make mistakes at the hospitals in the Mid-West? Bad things happen all over. It's one of the reasons why – well, why we do what we do."
"Besides," Jeff sighed. "Alan never had normal even before your mother died. When he was born, a minor complication swirled out of control and Alan spent the first few days of life in the NICU."
"I remember," John said. "They let Grandma take us to a window where we could look at Alan but Scott was the only one old enough to go in the room." He smiled as he recalled watching Scott with the new baby. "Alan grabbed hold of Scott's finger -"
"More like Scott's heart," Jeff smiled back. "Scott said Alan looked up at him like he knew Scotty would give him the world if he asked, would slay any dragon for him in order to protect him." Sighing, he played with the coffee cup for a moment. "When Alan was eighteen months old, Scott certainly proved that."
John had frozen but Gordon looked puzzled. "What do you mean, Dad?"
Jeff raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, yes, I forgot. You were at the Junior Swim Meet. Your first one."
"You and mom thought it would just scare Gordon," John murmured. "God knows it gave the rest of us enough nightmares."
"I remember when I came home that Scott's arm was in a sling," Gordon recalled. "Scott had gotten stitches. All Virgil said was that Scott had fallen."
"Scott's arm was sliced open by a knife," John said solemnly. When Gordon's eyes went wide, his brother continued.
"Some creeps tried to snatch Alan from our front yard. Mom had been gardening while we were in school and Alan was napping in his playpen. She ran back into the house for a minute…" John's voice trailed off as he recalled that afternoon.
Jeff picked up the story. "It was the chance the men were looking for. They ran up to grab Alan, but didn't count on Scott coming home early. He was in junior high while John and Virgil were still in elementary. Your grandparents had taken you to the swim meet as Dad hadn't become sick yet. There had been a water main break at the junior high so Scott was out early and he came home to finish his homework so he could meet his friends to play baseball."
"He made enough of a fuss to stop the men before they could take Alan," John continued. "But one of them sliced his arm."
"Your mother called me, practically hysterical," Jeff murmured. "I raced home while I sent Ann-Marie to pick up your brothers."
"Virgil almost fainted at the sight of blood on Scott's shirt," John recalled. "Then he started watching the paramedics treating his arm and he started asking questions. Seeing it was calming Virg down, the medics and even the doctor at the ER humored him by walking him through what they were doing."
"What were you doing, Johnny?" Gordon asked.
"Watching Dad freak," John muttered. At Jeff's offended look, John shrugged. "Dad, you were torn between comforting Mom and refusing to let Alan go. Gordy, he made the doctor examine Alan while he held him."
Giving a small smile, Jeff also shrugged. "Alan was fine. I guess I just thought if I could hold him, I could keep him safe." Sobering, he tightened his grip on his mug. "All I ever wanted was to keep him safe and I keep failing."
"Dad," Gordon said, "Alan doesn't blame you."
"And when he remembers our argument?" Jeff asked. "Will he still hold me blameless? Or will he hate me for being the reason he was out there, the reason why he may never walk again?"
John and Gordon looked at each other, before John spoke up. "Dad, Alan loves you. His biggest fear is you don't need him. Actually, he has that fear about the rest of the family as well. I've been trying to talk to him about it but he has a pretty thick wall that he's built around himself."
"Why would Alan have a wall built up?" Gordon asked as he finished off his sandwich.
Glaring slightly at his brother, John snapped, "Oh, I don't know, Gordy. Maybe because the three of you teased him unmercifully whenever he came home."
"Brothers always tease each other," Gordon said defensively.
Standing, John pushed aside his plate for good. "Brothers don't bully each other. And big brothers shouldn't be the reason little brothers have places to hide so no one can see them cry."
Gordon looked sick as John stalked off. Wiping at his face, the red-haired Tracy son turned to his father. "Dad? We weren't that bad, were we?"
Jeff bit his lip before answering. "I didn't say anything Gordon, but yes, you three could be that bad. I didn't realize until I overheard John and Alan talking in the infirmary during Spring Break. But when I looked back, I realized just how cruel the teasing had gotten. You knew what buttons to push and you did it every chance you got. Alan was becoming more and more alienated from the family and I was letting it happen. I guess I thought it would all work out. And – well, I had to work with the rest of you. Alan would head back to school. It seemed easier. But I'm the father; it was my responsibility to do what was right, not easy. I know now that so much of Alan's behavior before was that he was afraid not only of losing us -"
"But of not being needed by us," Gordon mused. At Jeff's surprised look, he explained. "Just before Alan had the allergy attack, he said he knew we loved him, but that he didn't think we needed him." Soberly, he looked at his father. "We have to change that Dad. Alan needs to know how much we need him."
Jeff nodded. "We will, Gordy. We will."
Looking over at Scott, Virgil finished speaking with the allergist, getting Dr. Rose's assurance that he would make sure to have a family member in on the conference that would be held after Dr. Corrigan rechecked Alan's respiratory system. Seeing the doctor to the door, Virgil took back his seat.
"Dr. Rose is concerned that Alan's sensitivity to penicillin is so much more acute than the last time."
"Alan was only a toddler when that happened," Scott grumbled.
"Which is why he was given such a light dose back then," Virgil agreed. "It probably saved his life."
Watching the way Scott clutched at their baby brother's hand like a lifeline, Virgil was concerned for both of his siblings. "Hey Scott – why don't you lean back and take a nap?"
"I'm not tired," Scott assured him.
With a "pull the other one" look on his face, Virgil shook his head. He doubted Scott had slept much in days. Before he could say anything, Alan began to move restlessly in his sleep. Picking up Alan's other hand, he spoke softly to the teen, hoping to calm him down so he would rest. When it didn't work very well, Virgil pulled a trick he had used when Alan was little.
He sang to him.
You can spend your whole life building,
Something from nothing
One storm can come and blow it all away,
Build it anyway
You can chase a dream
That seems so out of reach
And you know it might not ever come your way
Dream it anyway
God is great, but sometimes life ain't good
And when I pray;
It doesn't always turn out like I think it should
But I do it anyway,
I do it anyway
This world's gone crazy
And it's hard to believe
That tomorrow will be better than today.
Believe it anyway
You can love someone with all your heart,
For all the right reasons,
And in a moment they can choose to walk away
Love 'em anyway
God is great, but sometimes life ain't good
And when I pray
It doesn't always turn out like I think it should
But I do it anyway,
Yeah I do it anyway
You can pour your soul out singing
A song you believe in
That tomorrow they'll forget you ever sang
Sing it anyway,
Yeah sing it anyway
Yeah! Yeah!
I sing, I dream, I love
Anyway
Virgil smiled. That song had always reminded him of Alan, his willingness to keep moving forward no matter what the world threw at him. And the singing seemed to have soothed Alan back to sleep.
Looking over at Scott, Virgil's words died on his lips. Scott was softly snoring in the sleeper recliner, Alan's hand still clutched in his own. Standing, Virgil spread a light blanket over his oldest brother and smiled as he walked over to shut the drapes and dim the lights.
"Rest easy boys – I have this watch," Virgil whispered as he reclaimed his seat.
A/N - Ding dong, the witch is dead, the evil witch, the mean ol' witch...Or is she?