Okay, could we really have a fic that didn't include the boys?? I don't
think so.
The response to this story has been so great. Thanx to everyone that R&R, I'm glad you're enjoying it.
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"Scott?" Virgil Tracy's voice startled John as his older brother entered the room. "You're turn."
Their eldest brother had stationed himself at the window for the better part of an hour, looking blankly out at the parking lot. He pushed off of the frame and crossed the room quickly, stopping in the doorway to give Virgil a reassuring slap on the back as he went.
Virgil entered the lounge and flopped down beside John. "How are you holding up, Johnny?"
His brothers had been asking him that question all day. He gave Virgil the same answer he had given Alan when the youngest Tracy had come back from his bedside vigil. "I'm fine."
It was a lie and Virgil knew it. He studied John, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. "You don't look fine."
"What do you want me to say, Virgil?" John snapped. "My brother is lying in there, unconscious, with a machine to make him breath. How am I supposed to feel? Would you all please just stop with the stupid questions?"
"Easy," Virgil said in a soothing tone. "We're just worried about you."
Alan's bright blue eyes stared at them from across the room, but he was quiet. He had been dozing before Virgil returned.
John envied Alan. The kid always found peace in the blissful unawareness of sleep and he didn't know how Alan did it. He couldn't remember the last time he had attempted sleep himself. It was far beyond his capabilities to sit still long enough.
His gaze turned worried as he looked to the lovely older lady seated beside Alan. John had picked their grandmother up from the private airport in San Francisco after dropping Scott off in San Diego. When he had arrived to fetch her, Grandma had been the same strong, confident woman that he always looked to when something horrible happened, reassuring him as they flew the short distance south.
That had changed when she saw Gordon. John had gone along with her to Gordon's room to shield her from the shock of seeing her grandson for the first time. After only a couple of minutes, he had escorted her from the room, soothing her, as she cried against him. Now she sat staring at the tacky painting above Virgil's head, with absolutely no expression on her face. It was frightening to see her like that.
He felt better when Alan reached over and took her hand. Grandma was drawn from her distant thoughts and focused on him. The needs of her grandson outweighed her own and gave her something to do besides feel sorry for herself. Her face broke out in a sad smile as she reached for Alan and rested his head on her shoulder. Grandma stroked his blonde hair as Alan's eyes closed.
At least his youngest brother was calming down. John had never seen him so upset as when the doctor talked to them after Gordon came out of surgery. It had taken hours to stop the internal bleeding and restore some blood circulation to Gordon's damaged spinal cord. After he was stabilized, his doctors would consider completing the first of many surgeries to repair the vertebrae and the delicate nerves. The doctor seemed to think it was a moot point anyway, given the trauma to the head Gordon had sustained.
It was that attitude that had put Alan on the verge of hysterics. Dr. Ames had been one of those guys that just laid out all the facts. No compassion had registered on his face as he gave them every detail about their brother's condition. Scott had taken all the news with his usual calm seriousness, making decisions in Dad's absence.
John knew Scott was strained. He was feeling their father's absence more than the rest of them. It wasn't fair; Dad should have been there. Instead he was off somewhere on the tundra, chasing his dreams.
He squashed the feeling of anger he felt, labeling it as childish overreaction. His father was doing his best to get to them. He would be here soon.
Virgil broke the silence. "What is with all the blue in here?" he asked suddenly, apparently searching for a safe topic of conversation. "I think I'm going to hate the color blue when we leave."
John looked around at the lounge they occupied. The walls were a dark blue, an antithesis to the stark white of the rest of the hospital. He shrugged. "It's supposed to be a very soothing color."
"I wonder if they have a survey I could fill out. It's not doing much for me."
"Me either." John smiled, despite himself. Virgil had a knack for making his brother's smile in the worst situations. It was a trait John was thankful for.
Virgil was silent for a minute before he turned serious. "There was nothing you could do to stop this, you know."
John looked over at him. "What are you talking about?"
"C'mon, Johnny," Virgil said, gently. "You know what I'm talking about. You've had Overprotective Brother Syndrome since you were six years old, especially when it comes to Gordon."
"Maybe that's because Gordon is in constant need of an overprotective older brother." His next youngest sibling had a habit of getting in to the most unusual situations.
"That's my point." Virgil grinned. "You've been looking out for him ever since the day Grandpa's geese trapped him under the station wagon." John laughed a little at the memory of a two-year old Gordon, on his belly, screaming at the top of his lungs from beneath the family car.
"It's always been John to the rescue." Virgil continued. He sighed. "And this time, there was nothing you could do to help him. Am I right?"
John leaned back on the cushions. "Yeah, I guess so."
"There's no 'I guess so' about it." Virgil corrected him. "I'm speaking from experience here."
John knew what he meant. Though he was the most thoughtful of the five brothers, John had done things in his lifetime that he was sure made Virgil crazy. Falling off the roof of the farmhouse in the middle of the night sprang to mind as an example. His zeal to observe a meteor shower had resulted in a broken ankle and a major chewing-out by his teenage brother. Of course, John had just used the safety harness from the rock-climbing equipment the next time.
Virgil pushed his hair back from his face. "It's not an easy job, playing big brother." He looked across the room where their brother was now asleep again. "I can't even imagine what it's like for Alan. He must be going through hell."
The sound of a doctor being paged to the ICU caused John to nearly jump out of his seat. Virgil put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "If it was for Gordon, Scott would have been back out here by now."
John flopped back down on the burgundy couch cushion. "How long has Scott been in there?"
Virgil consulted his watch. "About five minutes. Relax," Virgil backpedaled when he saw the look on John's face, "as much as possible."
John let out a frustrated breath. He hated Navy regulated hospitals. The rules of the Intensive Care Unit allowed for only one family member to sit with a patient at a time. This meant they had to take turns sitting with Gordon alone.
It left John dreading when he would have to go back to that room again. The only sounds to be heard were that of the respirator and the monitor as it tracked every beat of Gordon's heart. He would have given anything to have Virgil or Scott with him. Their strong presence would help fill the empty space.
As daunting as the thought was, John still found himself waiting impatiently for that time as well. He knew Gordon was still alive in his little white cubicle, but there was one part of him that wasn't satisfied unless he could verify it personally. Even if all he could do was sit there, hold Gordon's hand, and talk to him. His love for his brother outdistanced his apprehension by miles.
John stared out of the door and into the hallway. He recognized a few people standing against the wall, dressed in WASP fatigues. They were talking quietly among themselves, and every once in a while, Gordon's name was mentioned.
A steady flow of people from Gordon's WASP squadron had been running through the hospital since the accident, a few of his closer friends even asking to sneak back for a chance to visit with him. The Tracy's obliged them as much as possible, pushing the nerves of the nursing staff to the breaking point. One intern even commented that they should install a revolving door at the entrance of the ICU.
Virgil tugged on the sleeve of his sweatshirt to get his attention. "Grandma is going to want to go back again." He said in a low voice.
"She can't go alone," John matched his brother's volume. "Maybe one of us should try to talk her out of it."
"I wish you the best of luck, Johnny."
Virgil was right. They couldn't talk Grandma out of anything. "Then one of us will have to go with her again."
Virgil frowned. "I don't think the management is going to like that."
"They'll have to live with it," John hissed. "Grandma has a right to see Gordon, and I for one, am not going to deny her that."
"We'll talk about it when Scott comes back out. He or I can go back again for a little while."
John didn't argue, as much as he wanted to. He didn't know if he could stand to see his grandmother crying like that again.
The mobile phone rang on the table next to them. Usually, Scott kept it to stay in contact with the company when his father was gone. It was the only way anyone outside the family could get in touch with him.
For now, it was their link to Brains back on the island. The young scientist had been very distressed when he heard about the accident. They had only met a couple of times, but Brains had taken an instant liking to Gordon. His brother had a tendency to make a lasting impression on all the people he met.
John answered the phone after three rings. "Yeah?"
"Mr. Tracy?" The strong male voice on the other end of the line was not Brains, or their father.
"You're going to have to be a little more specific than that." John said. "This is Scott Tracy's phone, John Tracy speaking."
"Are you any relation to Jeff Tracy?" Conversations that started like this were never good.
John got up quickly and went into the hall. "He's my father."
"This is Ted Malloy with the American Consulate in Toronto." The man went on. "I got this phone number from the Tracy Corporation offices in Chicago. We were asked to contact you by the law enforcement officials of High Level, Alberta."
"What's the problem, sir?" John's cool head took over, realizing that this man was simply a messenger. A request for him to get to the point would probably earn him a longer delay.
"I am sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm afraid the plane that your father chartered to reach Edmonton is hours overdue and believed to have gone down. The local police department began to mount an aerial search effort, but a line of strong thunderstorms is moving over the area and they are expected to continue through this evening. The planes can't take off, and until they canvas the area, a ground search is impossible."
"Nobody has any idea where the plane went down?" John felt sick. Virgil had joined him in the hall and was now looking at him with a mixture concern and confusion.
"I'm afraid not, son." The man was at least sympathetic. "There is still quite a bit of wilderness along that part of the province."
"When will they begin the air search?" John asked, trying to keep his voice down. He motioned for Virgil to look back into the room. His brother shook his head at him. Neither Grandma nor Alan had heard the conversation.
"They will start first thing in the morning."
A strange, unexplainable calm had fallen over John. "Thank you for notifying us." He said quietly.
"You're welcome, Mr. Tracy." He cut the connection.
"What's up with Dad?" Virgil asked anxiously. "John?"
Still, John did not answer. Instead, he stood, feeling the weight of the phone in his hand. There was no way he could have had that conversation.
No way.
It wasn't possible.
His father was on his way here, to see his son. He hadn't crashed.
Something snapped. With no warning, John screamed and flung the phone down the hallway. It hit the wall and shattered into pieces on the floor.
The response to this story has been so great. Thanx to everyone that R&R, I'm glad you're enjoying it.
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"Scott?" Virgil Tracy's voice startled John as his older brother entered the room. "You're turn."
Their eldest brother had stationed himself at the window for the better part of an hour, looking blankly out at the parking lot. He pushed off of the frame and crossed the room quickly, stopping in the doorway to give Virgil a reassuring slap on the back as he went.
Virgil entered the lounge and flopped down beside John. "How are you holding up, Johnny?"
His brothers had been asking him that question all day. He gave Virgil the same answer he had given Alan when the youngest Tracy had come back from his bedside vigil. "I'm fine."
It was a lie and Virgil knew it. He studied John, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. "You don't look fine."
"What do you want me to say, Virgil?" John snapped. "My brother is lying in there, unconscious, with a machine to make him breath. How am I supposed to feel? Would you all please just stop with the stupid questions?"
"Easy," Virgil said in a soothing tone. "We're just worried about you."
Alan's bright blue eyes stared at them from across the room, but he was quiet. He had been dozing before Virgil returned.
John envied Alan. The kid always found peace in the blissful unawareness of sleep and he didn't know how Alan did it. He couldn't remember the last time he had attempted sleep himself. It was far beyond his capabilities to sit still long enough.
His gaze turned worried as he looked to the lovely older lady seated beside Alan. John had picked their grandmother up from the private airport in San Francisco after dropping Scott off in San Diego. When he had arrived to fetch her, Grandma had been the same strong, confident woman that he always looked to when something horrible happened, reassuring him as they flew the short distance south.
That had changed when she saw Gordon. John had gone along with her to Gordon's room to shield her from the shock of seeing her grandson for the first time. After only a couple of minutes, he had escorted her from the room, soothing her, as she cried against him. Now she sat staring at the tacky painting above Virgil's head, with absolutely no expression on her face. It was frightening to see her like that.
He felt better when Alan reached over and took her hand. Grandma was drawn from her distant thoughts and focused on him. The needs of her grandson outweighed her own and gave her something to do besides feel sorry for herself. Her face broke out in a sad smile as she reached for Alan and rested his head on her shoulder. Grandma stroked his blonde hair as Alan's eyes closed.
At least his youngest brother was calming down. John had never seen him so upset as when the doctor talked to them after Gordon came out of surgery. It had taken hours to stop the internal bleeding and restore some blood circulation to Gordon's damaged spinal cord. After he was stabilized, his doctors would consider completing the first of many surgeries to repair the vertebrae and the delicate nerves. The doctor seemed to think it was a moot point anyway, given the trauma to the head Gordon had sustained.
It was that attitude that had put Alan on the verge of hysterics. Dr. Ames had been one of those guys that just laid out all the facts. No compassion had registered on his face as he gave them every detail about their brother's condition. Scott had taken all the news with his usual calm seriousness, making decisions in Dad's absence.
John knew Scott was strained. He was feeling their father's absence more than the rest of them. It wasn't fair; Dad should have been there. Instead he was off somewhere on the tundra, chasing his dreams.
He squashed the feeling of anger he felt, labeling it as childish overreaction. His father was doing his best to get to them. He would be here soon.
Virgil broke the silence. "What is with all the blue in here?" he asked suddenly, apparently searching for a safe topic of conversation. "I think I'm going to hate the color blue when we leave."
John looked around at the lounge they occupied. The walls were a dark blue, an antithesis to the stark white of the rest of the hospital. He shrugged. "It's supposed to be a very soothing color."
"I wonder if they have a survey I could fill out. It's not doing much for me."
"Me either." John smiled, despite himself. Virgil had a knack for making his brother's smile in the worst situations. It was a trait John was thankful for.
Virgil was silent for a minute before he turned serious. "There was nothing you could do to stop this, you know."
John looked over at him. "What are you talking about?"
"C'mon, Johnny," Virgil said, gently. "You know what I'm talking about. You've had Overprotective Brother Syndrome since you were six years old, especially when it comes to Gordon."
"Maybe that's because Gordon is in constant need of an overprotective older brother." His next youngest sibling had a habit of getting in to the most unusual situations.
"That's my point." Virgil grinned. "You've been looking out for him ever since the day Grandpa's geese trapped him under the station wagon." John laughed a little at the memory of a two-year old Gordon, on his belly, screaming at the top of his lungs from beneath the family car.
"It's always been John to the rescue." Virgil continued. He sighed. "And this time, there was nothing you could do to help him. Am I right?"
John leaned back on the cushions. "Yeah, I guess so."
"There's no 'I guess so' about it." Virgil corrected him. "I'm speaking from experience here."
John knew what he meant. Though he was the most thoughtful of the five brothers, John had done things in his lifetime that he was sure made Virgil crazy. Falling off the roof of the farmhouse in the middle of the night sprang to mind as an example. His zeal to observe a meteor shower had resulted in a broken ankle and a major chewing-out by his teenage brother. Of course, John had just used the safety harness from the rock-climbing equipment the next time.
Virgil pushed his hair back from his face. "It's not an easy job, playing big brother." He looked across the room where their brother was now asleep again. "I can't even imagine what it's like for Alan. He must be going through hell."
The sound of a doctor being paged to the ICU caused John to nearly jump out of his seat. Virgil put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "If it was for Gordon, Scott would have been back out here by now."
John flopped back down on the burgundy couch cushion. "How long has Scott been in there?"
Virgil consulted his watch. "About five minutes. Relax," Virgil backpedaled when he saw the look on John's face, "as much as possible."
John let out a frustrated breath. He hated Navy regulated hospitals. The rules of the Intensive Care Unit allowed for only one family member to sit with a patient at a time. This meant they had to take turns sitting with Gordon alone.
It left John dreading when he would have to go back to that room again. The only sounds to be heard were that of the respirator and the monitor as it tracked every beat of Gordon's heart. He would have given anything to have Virgil or Scott with him. Their strong presence would help fill the empty space.
As daunting as the thought was, John still found himself waiting impatiently for that time as well. He knew Gordon was still alive in his little white cubicle, but there was one part of him that wasn't satisfied unless he could verify it personally. Even if all he could do was sit there, hold Gordon's hand, and talk to him. His love for his brother outdistanced his apprehension by miles.
John stared out of the door and into the hallway. He recognized a few people standing against the wall, dressed in WASP fatigues. They were talking quietly among themselves, and every once in a while, Gordon's name was mentioned.
A steady flow of people from Gordon's WASP squadron had been running through the hospital since the accident, a few of his closer friends even asking to sneak back for a chance to visit with him. The Tracy's obliged them as much as possible, pushing the nerves of the nursing staff to the breaking point. One intern even commented that they should install a revolving door at the entrance of the ICU.
Virgil tugged on the sleeve of his sweatshirt to get his attention. "Grandma is going to want to go back again." He said in a low voice.
"She can't go alone," John matched his brother's volume. "Maybe one of us should try to talk her out of it."
"I wish you the best of luck, Johnny."
Virgil was right. They couldn't talk Grandma out of anything. "Then one of us will have to go with her again."
Virgil frowned. "I don't think the management is going to like that."
"They'll have to live with it," John hissed. "Grandma has a right to see Gordon, and I for one, am not going to deny her that."
"We'll talk about it when Scott comes back out. He or I can go back again for a little while."
John didn't argue, as much as he wanted to. He didn't know if he could stand to see his grandmother crying like that again.
The mobile phone rang on the table next to them. Usually, Scott kept it to stay in contact with the company when his father was gone. It was the only way anyone outside the family could get in touch with him.
For now, it was their link to Brains back on the island. The young scientist had been very distressed when he heard about the accident. They had only met a couple of times, but Brains had taken an instant liking to Gordon. His brother had a tendency to make a lasting impression on all the people he met.
John answered the phone after three rings. "Yeah?"
"Mr. Tracy?" The strong male voice on the other end of the line was not Brains, or their father.
"You're going to have to be a little more specific than that." John said. "This is Scott Tracy's phone, John Tracy speaking."
"Are you any relation to Jeff Tracy?" Conversations that started like this were never good.
John got up quickly and went into the hall. "He's my father."
"This is Ted Malloy with the American Consulate in Toronto." The man went on. "I got this phone number from the Tracy Corporation offices in Chicago. We were asked to contact you by the law enforcement officials of High Level, Alberta."
"What's the problem, sir?" John's cool head took over, realizing that this man was simply a messenger. A request for him to get to the point would probably earn him a longer delay.
"I am sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm afraid the plane that your father chartered to reach Edmonton is hours overdue and believed to have gone down. The local police department began to mount an aerial search effort, but a line of strong thunderstorms is moving over the area and they are expected to continue through this evening. The planes can't take off, and until they canvas the area, a ground search is impossible."
"Nobody has any idea where the plane went down?" John felt sick. Virgil had joined him in the hall and was now looking at him with a mixture concern and confusion.
"I'm afraid not, son." The man was at least sympathetic. "There is still quite a bit of wilderness along that part of the province."
"When will they begin the air search?" John asked, trying to keep his voice down. He motioned for Virgil to look back into the room. His brother shook his head at him. Neither Grandma nor Alan had heard the conversation.
"They will start first thing in the morning."
A strange, unexplainable calm had fallen over John. "Thank you for notifying us." He said quietly.
"You're welcome, Mr. Tracy." He cut the connection.
"What's up with Dad?" Virgil asked anxiously. "John?"
Still, John did not answer. Instead, he stood, feeling the weight of the phone in his hand. There was no way he could have had that conversation.
No way.
It wasn't possible.
His father was on his way here, to see his son. He hadn't crashed.
Something snapped. With no warning, John screamed and flung the phone down the hallway. It hit the wall and shattered into pieces on the floor.