Who's In Trouble Now?

By Spense

Chapter Ten - Endgame

Alan's memories were very confused. He felt like he was living in a continuous nightmare. He was alone, and there was nobody anywhere. He was in New York, and it was completely deserted. Or he was running from people who wanted to harm him, and he couldn't escape. Or else he was locked in a dark basement room. He would call for his father in a panic, forgetting that he wouldn't be there, that nobody wanted him.

But then his father would answer, speaking softly to him, assuring him that he was safe, he was fine, and that he wasn't alone. Alan would cling to him, or grip his hand, feeling the strong grasp and would know he was safe. Or sometimes it was Scott who answered, providing a firm bulwark against the nightmares, as always.

At other times, Alan thought he heard Virgil, Gordon, or even John's voice, talking to him, soothing him, urging him to sleep. He even thought he recognized the sounds of the island around him. But then he would remember that he was in a room in the basement of a library, and it wasn't possible that he could be hearing these things. He was imaging his family being there. But again, one familiar voice or another would tell him that everything was alright, and he was safe, and to just go to sleep. And he would do as he was told, surrendering gratefully into darkness, only to begin the cycle once again.

TB TB TB TB TB

One more time Alan swam up out of the darkness of a nightmare with a strangled gasp, the dream still haunting him as he breathed heavily into the black night. A hand touched his shoulder gently, startling him.

"Easy Alan, shhhh, it's okay. It's just a dream," John's voice said softly, turning the darkness of the night from cold and lonely to warm and cozy. "Easy now . . ."

Alan lay back bonelessly with a sigh, suddenly realizing he was on a real mattress and had a nice comfortable pillow. 'What . . .?' He shook his head to clear it, then croaked, "John . . . ?" in a voice that didn't sound like his.

There was a startled moment of silence, then John's voice again out of the dark. Alan could practically hear the grin in it. "Well, well, well – look who's finally gracing us with his presence! Hang on, I'm going to turn on a light."

Alan shut his eyes in anticipation, then squinted them open, carefully guarding against the dim light. The faint glow threw the familiar sight of the Tracy Island Infirmary into deep shadow. And with it was the John's smiling face.

"Welcome back," his brother said, grinning at him.

Alan looked around, puzzled, then back warily at John. He opened his mouth to speak, failed, cleared his throat and tried again while John waited patiently. His older brother was comfortably ensconced in blankets and curled up in a large arm chair, pulled close within reach of Alan's bed, where he had apparently been spending the night.

"How did I . . ." Alan began, then broke off with a cough. "When . . ." Alan finally just gave up. Obviously they had found him, but when, or how, he didn't have a clue. He didn't remember anything. He did remember having a headache, and going to see Pastor John, but anything else after that was a real mess.

John took pity on him and leaned forward, brushing Alan's hair out of his eyes. "Yes, you're at home. The pastor at the mission called the number Dad had left with him after you collapsed," he said, a permanent smile seemingly affixed to his face. "You sure do know how to make an entrance." He shook his head. "Dad and Scott broke speed records getting to you. You've been really sick. As soon as you were stable, they brought you home. That's the short version."

Alan assimilated all of this. It still made no sense to him. He didn't remember a thing about what John was telling him. Besides, why would they be worried about the family screw-up? It was then that he noticed that John's expression was changing from delight to stern. 'Uh-oh . . . '

"Why the hell didn't you call, Alan? At least me? I wasn't involved. Didn't you have any idea what we were going through. . . ?" John broke off as he saw Alan shrinking back against the pillows at his words.

"Oh Allie, I'm sorry. It's just, well, we've been frantic. Dad's been beside himself." He reached out to gently rub Alan's shoulder. "God, I've missed you."

"Have you really?" Alan asked in a small voice, exhaustion and illness destroying all of his defenses. He just had nothing left to dissemble and protect himself with.

John closed his eyes in pain for a moment. "I can't believe you even have to ask that. Of COURSE we've missed you. I swear Dad's lost 25 pounds. Scott's not much better." Blue eyes met blue eyes, and Alan could see the truth behind the pain.

"But I heard . . ." he began, but broke off. He didn't even want to put it into words.

John reached out again. "I know what you heard. And it wasn't true. I know three brothers who are just itching to talk to you and explain. And above all, apologize." He looked intensely at Alan. "I promise."

Alan thought about this for a moment. It was almost more than he could comprehend right now. But there was one more thing he needed to know. Had to know. "What about Dad?" he asked quietly. "How mad is he?"

John laughed mirthlessly. "Mad? Are you kidding? At you? No way. He's been frantically looking for you for two months. He's had detectives, the police, even the FBI out hunting for you."

Alan's jaw dropped at that.

John snorted. "You idiot. He's been so worried. Mad? Furious at certain brothers of ours, yes, but not at you. As a matter of fact, he's going to be pretty upset that he wasn't here when you woke up. We've had to pry him away from you just to sleep ever since we got you home."

Alan was horrified as his eyes filled with tears. He was too old to cry . . . at least in front of anybody. But he so badly wanted to see his father, and he was so tired. . .

John looked at him seriously. "Do you want me to get him? I'll need to leave you for a moment . . ."

Alan panicked. "NO!" He grabbed at John. He didn't want to be alone – not for one minute – not with the nightmares.

"Shhh, okay, okay, I won't leave you," John's voice slipped back into a soothing rhythm, as he settled Alan back on the pillows and straightening his covers. Alan was grateful, John seemed to understand. "Go to sleep, Allie. I promise, Dad will be here when you wake up again. I won't leave you."

John's quiet voice relaxed Alan further, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. "One of us has been with you all the time – you won't be alone." On that quiet promise, Alan faded out.

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The next time Alan woke up it was daylight. As he opened his eyes, he saw his father reading, occupying the same chair he'd last seen John in. As he felt Alan's gaze on him, Jeff looked up and met his son's eyes – clear for the first time.

"Alan," he said with a sigh, his voice deep and rich, resonant with emotion, as he dropped his magazine and shifted to sit on the edge of Alan's bed. Reaching down, he gathered his unresisting youngest son to him. Wrapping his arms around him, Jeff pulled him to his chest and hugged him hard.

Alan buried his face into his father's shoulder and felt all of his defenses crumble. He let go of the hurt and anguish, and all of the loneliness and began to cry. How could he have ever believed he was unwanted?

Jeff just held him close, rocking him gently as he talked to his son, telling him softly how much he loved him, and how much he had missed him.

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan was exhausted by the time he finally finished sobbing out his emotions of the last two months into his father's shoulder. He was content to just rest against his Dad for awhile.

"Better?" Jeff finally asked softly.

Alan just nodded into Jeff's shirt, then closed his eyes and relaxed bonelessly into his pillows as Jeff carefully let him go. He felt the mattress move as his father got up, but before Alan could panic, Jeff was back, settling on the edge of the bed once again, and began wiping Alan's face with a cool, wet cloth.

"I know you're tired," Jeff said gently once Alan opened his eyes and was looking at him again. "And you need to sleep, but I want you to understand something first. You were not a 'mistake' as you so unfortunately heard. You were, and always have been a very important member of this family. Losing Lucille was very hard, but losing you as well would have been even more devastating. You are such a part of her." Jeff paused for a moment, smiling at his son, who was watching him intently.

"Yes, Lucy and I had planned to stop at four children. But don't ever, EVER think that you weren't as welcome as the others once we knew she was pregnant." Jeff moderated his tone slightly at the wince on Alan's face as his headache was exacerbated. "We would have welcomed any more children who came our way as well. As for your brothers, well, they've been beating themselves up more than you could possibly know. The day you overhead their conversation, they had just come in from spending nearly 10 hours repairing Thunderbird 2. And incidentally, the damage wasn't all from you, it was from Transom and the Hood and Fermat as well. None of you had had any training, and of course damage was going to occur. But your brothers were exhausted and said some things they didn't mean."

Jeff paused, knowing by looking into his son's face that his words were getting through to him. "Not like you haven't ever been guilty of that," he finished with a smile. Alan smiled in return, the tension in him easing. Jeff gently stroked Alan's hair back off his forehead. "That doesn't excuse their behavior, but it does explain what happened. You have no idea how hard they've been looking for you. Scott told me how relieved he was when you recognized his voice and didn't turn away from him." Jeff turned away for a second and cleared his throat, thinking of Scott telling him that. Of the naked relief in Scott's face, feeling like he'd been given another chance.

Alan watched in slight puzzlement. What was that all about? He didn't remember a thing. Jeff turned back and noticed his look with a smile. Instead of explaining, he continued. "Just remember Alan, actions always speak louder and truer than words. Remember all the loving and caring things your brother's have done. You'll see how much they care about you. And I just want one thing from you," he finished.

As Alan looked at him warily, Jeff continued. "I want you to promise me that you'll never run away again. Talk to me, or one of your brothers, or Penny, or SOMEBODY before you do anything like this again." Jeff's voice broke as he locked eyes with his son, willing what he was saying to be understood. "I can't . . . go through something like this ever again." He nodded at Alan. "I want your word."

Alan didn't even have to think. "I promise," he said firmly.

"Thank you," Jeff said quietly. His gaze softened as he looked at his exhausted son. "Now go to sleep."

Alan was out practically before Jeff had finished his sentence. Jeff just sat and watched him for awhile, glad that he was home. That Alan had agreed so readily and willingly to his request was a measure of how deep the scars of the last two months went in his son. Jeff knew that they'd be dealing with the fallout for sometime, but that was fine. Alan was home, and safe, and in one piece. They could fix anything from here – as a family, they'd get through it.