DECEPTIONS
By Spense
CHAPTER NINE
Alan was just finishing the last part of his morning run. The morning was bright, and the sun sparkled on the crisp, deep coating of gleaming white snow, making him squint. He should have worn sunglasses. He slowed to a brisk walk and headed up the walkway to the house when, out of nowhere, a snowball hit him in the back of the head. Startled, he looked around with a exclamation.
"Gotcha!" A familiar voice called.
At the sight of his red-headed brother, Alan let out a whoop, and quickly bent to make a snowball in order to return fire. A quick volley followed, with snowballs flying wildly, thick and fast, until Gordon caught Schaeffer's wordless motion, and brought the impromptu battle to a halt.
"I give, I give," He said, putting his hands up beseechingly.
"Say Uncle," Alan taunted, another snowball ready to fire.
"Uncle. Come on Alan, be a sport, Uncle!" Gordon laughed, throwing an arm over his brother's shoulder, and knocked the snowball out of his hand as they moved up the porch steps.
"Man, Gordon. You've become a real wuss," Alan complained as they entered the hallway, Tina holding the front door open for them. She grinned at their red, laughing faces.
"You never used to give up that easy."
"Well, that's because we usually had Scott, Virg, and John all ganging up on us," Gordon pointed out. "It was self-preservation."
Alan conceded to his logic. "You've got a point. At least sometimes John was on our side," he commented.
"Yeah, but was he ever any real help?"
"Well, actually, no," Alan laughed at that, as he divested himself of his damp outerwear. "Maybe he was just a plant. A mole to get our strategy," He mused thoughtfully.
"Nah. You'd have told him if he asked you. He didn't have to be secretive about trying to find out," Gordon snickered.
"Oh, shut up!"
Tina broke in, enjoying the banter. "Hot chocolate in the family room. That will warm you up."
"Great!" Alan said beaming at her. Tina was shocked. This was the most open Alan had ever been around her.
"That sounds terrific. Thank you!" Gordon grinned his 'Tracy smile'. It was a devastating weapon, and he planned on blatantly using anything he could to make all the points he could while he was here.
"Your welcome," she said laughing, indicating that they lead the way. Alan's two older brothers certainly knew how to use their charm to their advantage.
Following the teasing brothers through the hall into the back of the house, Tina was more than a little bemused. So this was the brother who had hit Alan so hard that he'd broken his nose, and left him sporting that now very interestingly colored black eye. She had specifically requested that Sylvia change the visitation schedule from Virgil to Gordon for today. After her observations of Alan and John, she really wanted to see how Alan reacted to the brother who had caused such damage to his face and ribcage.
She joined the social worker - Bennett ,her husband, and Mr. Bradley around the table once again. She noticed Trevor keeping an eye on the two brothers just as she was. Knowing her husband as she did, she knew he was seeing what she was – the real Alan Tracy. She was beginning to realize just how few glimpses they had had of him while he was here. The only times really, were when he was in the company of his brothers.
Tina was used to dealing with foster children who were closed off emotionally, or distant, much as Alan had been during his time with them so far. Usually that behavior was in response to trauma, and most of the kids they'd taken in came around and blossomed during their time with her family. The combination of a warm loving environment and a safe home was usually all it took. Alan was different – he was becoming more closed off, rather than less. And she was now beginning to think she knew why.
Tina noted that Alan was certainly not any more afraid, or cautious around Gordon than he was of John. And this was the brother who's actions had started the whole ball rolling. Tina trusted her gut instincts, and right now they were telling her more strongly than ever that this whole situation was backwards, and that her family and CPS had no business being involved here at all. Unfortunately, the choice wasn't hers, but she could certainly make her feelings known. In the meantime, she would do her best to help Alan cope, and offer whatever comfort he would accept. It was all that any of them could do.
TB TB TB TB TB
Much later that day, Schaeffer Bradley and Virgil Tracy were seated in front of the same party of players that John, and Gordon before him, had met. Virgil was no longer as confident as he had been with Scott. Everything had been going fine until Sylvia brought up an incident that floored Virgil. He had all but forgotten about it.
"Mr. Tracy, according to Alan's medical records, approximately eighteen months previous, in, I believe it was June, you brought your brother to the hospital emergency room from Tracy Island. Alan had a twisted knee, a severely sprained ankle, along with some minor tendon damage, and a badly bruised hip. In addition, he other minor scrapes and bruises. However, there was also a bruise to his shoulder that the doctor reported looked as though it had come from a hand."
She looked at him for a moment, then returned to her notes. "According to the report, you told the Emergency Room nurse that Alan had fallen from an aircraft you were repairing at the time. Per the report, the nurse had noted that you had seemed angry at Alan. Please tell us exactly what happened."
Oh, man. He'd completely forgotten that one. Where on earth had they dug this up from? This was going to be trouble. It hadn't seemed that big of a deal at the time, and yeah, he hadn't been real happy.
Virgil had spent the day working on repairs on Thunderbird Two. He'd lowered the struts over Pod One, trying to correct a fault where the pod and TB 2 joined. Virgil was sitting on the top of the craft working on the problem, joined by Alan. Jeff usually kept Alan away from the Thunderbirds unless somebody was with him, so when one of his older brothers was anywhere in the vicinity, Alan was almost always in evidence. The machines fascinated him.
"Alan, be careful! It's a long drop," Virgil said, annoyed, looking up to see Alan peering over the edge.
"I'll say," he said, looking over again, then backing away to a safer place on the sloping dome of the pod.
"If you don't sit down and stay in one place, I'll make you put on a safety harness," Virgil threatened.
Alan looked mutinous, but came over to where he was working and sat down heaving a martyred sigh.
Virgil shook his head and returned his attention to his work. Unfortunately, he was stuck with Alan. Gordon was off on an ocean swim, building up his stamina, Brains was off on a research trip, and Scott and Jeff had left for a short trip to the mainland. His father had taken Virgil aside and asked him to keep an eye on Alan. Virgil had not been pleased.
"Dad, come on. He doesn't need a babysitter! Besides, it will take me three times as long to get anything done with him interrupting me every five minutes with questions."
Jeff's eyes narrowed in irritation. "You are correct, your brother doesn't need a 'babysitter' as you so eloquently put it, but he is bored with everybody gone or busy. And I'm sure I don't have to remind you that a bored Alan is an Alan in some kind of trouble."
Virgil grimaced. His father was correct on all counts.
Jeff continued. "He'll hang around if you're working on Thunderbird Two, so just keep an eye on him please." It was not a request, and they both knew it.
"Fine," Virgil said grudgingly. "But he'd better not hold me up. We can't have Thunderbird Two out of action for long."
So now, here he was, breaking his concentration every few minutes to answer a question, or look at something, or just to keep his brother from breaking his fool neck.
"Alan," he growled through gritted teeth after what seemed the fiftieth question, "Look over at the joins on the tail section for me. See if you can spot anything that looks out of line." That should keep him busy. Virgil went thankfully back to work as Alan cheerfully agreed and began to make his way stern.
His concentration was broken once again by a startled exclamation, and Virgil looked up just in time to see his brother slide off the side of the great green aircraft.
Fear making him move quickly, Virgil was over to where he had seen his brother fall, shouting Alan's name. Looking over the side, he was incredibly relieved to see his brother right on the edge of the wing, which had apparently broken his fall, hanging on for dear life. "Hold on Alan, I'm on my way," he said in concern, beginning to carefully climb down.
"'Kay," came the shaky reply.
Virgil hadn't gotten more than a few feet, when Alan gave a startled yelp, and slipped off the wing, falling the remaining distance to the concrete floor of the hanger. Virgil watched, horrified for a frozen second. Alan's moan, and the way he curled in on himself, brought him back to instant awareness and he started to move forward towards the ladder. "Hang on Alan, I'm coming down. AND DON'T MOVE!" Not hearing a response made him move even quicker.
Virgil made it down to his little brother's side in seconds. Alan had obeyed him (that was a first) and was lying motionless on the concrete, looking stunned.
Putting a hand lightly on his shoulder, he started to visually go over his brother. "I'm here, Al. Are you okay?" Dumb question. "What hurts?"
Alan answered in a small voice, sounding shaken. "Only my left ankle. I think I'm okay."
Virgil looked at him in disbelief, then back up to the wing of the mammoth green aircraft. Thank heavens Alan had been so close to the wing when he slipped. That fall probably would have killed him had he gone straight to the ground.
Alan was trying to sit up. Virgil shook himself back to reality, and moved to steady him. "Are you sure? That was quite a fall."
"No kidding," Alan agreed, his voice growing steadier. "No, I'm okay."
"Uh-huh, sure. Look at me," Virgil ordered, and peered at his pupils. He then followed with a quick once over of his brother. One ankle was tender when he touched it, but that seemed to be it. He couldn't quite believe it, but amazingly Alan really looked like he was okay. Talk about a miracle. He moved to activate his wristcomm.
"What are you doing?" Alan asked suspiciously.
"Calling Dad, what else?" Virgil said wryly, his adrenalin levels finally beginning to drop as the danger appeared to be over.
"Oh, man," Alan said in disgust. "Geez Virgil, you worry too much. You can tell Dad when he gets home. I'm fine!"
"Yeah, right. Sorry sprout. Time for a reality check - I'm not laying myself open to Dad's wrath by waiting, got it? If it comes to having you mad at me, or Dad mad at me, I'll take you any day," He said as he looked at his wristcomm, waiting for his signal to be acknowledged.
Alan started to get up in disgust. Virgil clamped a hand on his shoulder and forced him back down again. "Sit," he ordered. He didn't release him, knowing Alan's tendency to bounce around like a Jack Russell terrier. He could keep him in place this way.
"Yes, Virgil, what is it?" His father picture appeared, and Virgil related the incident quickly.
"You say he's okay? Let me talk to him," Jeff asked in concern. Virgil passed the wristcomm over to Alan who assure his parent that he was fine – no harm done, then passed it back to Virgil.
Virgil was finally believing Alan. His color was coming back and he did look fine. Talk about lucky. However, his father's next words doused his good mood.
"I want you to take Alan to the hospital. I want an x-ray of that ankle, and I want him checked out. That's a long drop to a concrete floor."
Both brothers disagreed vehemently with that declaration. Alan had no desire to go to the ER, and Virgil, now that the crisis was over, and sure his brother was fine, had no desire to tie up the remainder of the afternoon playing ambulance service.
"Dad, I can just get ice on his ankle. That's all they'll do anyway," Virgil said, all the while thinking that Alan would then stay in one place and he could get back to work.
"Dad, I'm fine!" Alan griped.
"No." Jeff's voice came through clearly with the tone of voice that shut down both arguments instantly. "You're both going and that's final. Call me when you get there," he said with finality.
It was two very disgruntled brothers who sat in the plane on the way to the mainland, Alan with his ankle packed in ice.
"Nice going Alan," Virgil muttered.
"I didn't do it on purpose," Alan pointed out.
"No, you were just careless, as usual," Virgil replied icily.
"No, I wasn't!" Alan shot back.
"Now Thunderbird Two's going to be out of commission that much longer," Virgil muttered, actually, more to himself, but Alan caught it.
"Well, don't blame me! Blame Dad. I don't want to be going any more than you do."
"He worries too much," Virgil muttered.
"I'll say." It was about the only thing they agreed on that afternoon.
They continued the argument sporadically throughout the remainder of the plane trip, and on into the ER.
Virgil reflected how badly he had felt when it became apparent that Alan had not only done some tendon damage to his left ankle, but had also badly twisted his knee and bruised up his hip. And Virgil's grip on his shoulder to keep him quiet had left a large bruise as well. Virgil had had to agree that his father had been right to insist on the trip to the ER. But how exactly was he going to explain this one?
Virgil opened his mouth and began to describe the incident. He omitted Thunderbird Two, and instead substituted Tracy One (the biggest aircraft in their hanger he could think of that he could talk about) for the aircraft in question. He also omitted Alan hanging off the wing and just talked about him sliding off the top.
"That seems an awful lot of damage for a slide down the side of a jet," Sylvia commented.
"I know, but that's what happened," Virgil commented.
The disbelief in the room was palpable, and there was absolutely nothing Virgil could do to dissolve it. His heart sank as he realized that he'd just added another nail to their coffin.