The Epilogue.
"You understand what we're going to do, then?" Jeff asked his youngest son as the two sat alone in Alan's hospital room.
Alan sat on the edge of his bed, dressed in regular clothes. The past two days had been horrific. He was so glad to be reunited with his family. But the emotional scars lay deep. The nightmares, the panic attacks and his fear of being alone had prompted his father and brothers to organise the return trip home ahead of schedule. Alan wanted nothing more than to leave.
His father, who had been surprisingly in tune with his fears about going outside for the first time after his abduction, had explained every detail of their journey. Both of them hoped this preparation would keep Alan calm.
"Yes, I understand," Alan replied, softly. He felt tired and sore. His release from hospital had been allowed on the condition that he be kept under constant supervision in the infirmary on Tracy Island. Although his chest pains had lessened, his shoulder still throbbed, even though ithad beenimmobilised by resting his arm in a sling. Apparently, that was to be expected, according to Virgil.
Jeff brought a wheelchair beside the bed and gently held his arm to help him into it. But Alan pulled away. "I want to walk," he said. He wanted to walk free again. He wanted to hold his head high. He wanted his dignity back and to achieve that he had to at least try to face his fears.
Jeff nodded silently, pushing the chair away and once again placing a hand under Alan's arm to help him. Alan got to his feet rather unsteadily, his stomach churning. He was about to take a step but he hesitated.
"It's alright," his father murmured. "I've got you."
Alan nodded, swallowing his fear. He was so grateful when Jeff put an arm around him. He allowed himself to be led through the door and into the admin area, where Gordon and Virgil were waiting.
"The car's are waiting outside," Gordon informed them.
"Press?" Jeff asked, softly.
"Don't worry, Scott's got half the state's police force out there," Virgil said, attempting a smile.
Alan couldn't seem to keep his eyes off the floor in front of him. It was as if he was afraid of looking up; afraid of what he would see. He jumped when someone's hand rested against the side of his face.
"Hey, sprout." Gordon's face appeared in front of his. "You ready to go?"
Drawing in a ragged breath, Alan nodded.
"Good boy," Jeff softly commended.
They began to slow walk to the car. When the hospital doors slid open and the sunlight shone into his face, Alan almost bolted back inside, but his father's embrace kept him close. Scott and John stood waiting for them beside the two cars that were to take them to the airport. Virgil had been right; Scott had pulled half of the state's police force. They stood in lines facing outwards. Alan suddenly lurched back in fright at not being able to see any of their faces. Jeff held him firmly, pushing him forward. "It's alright," he assured.
Alan thought it best to return his eyes to the floor until they reached the car.
Scott took him from Jeff's hold to help him inside. "It's ok, Alan," he said, comfortingly, wrapping his arms around Alan and seating him in the middle of the backseat. Scott pointed to the silhouette that sat in the driver's seat. "Alan, this is Rick. He'll be driving us to the airport," he told him. The figure turned around and Alan gasped, lurching backwards in fright. But the man's face was not the face he had expected to see. No piercing eyes. No terrifying smile.
Scott held him. "Hey, it's ok. Just relax. He's not going to hurt you," he said. Jeff slid in next to Alan a moment later, a look of question upon his face when he saw him huddled in Scott's arms. Alan only mumbled, "Sorry."
The doors were closed and the engine started. Alan suddenly shivered. "Where are the others?" he asked, fidgeting in his seat, worriedly.
Scott put a hand on his shoulder and Jeff held his other hand. "They're in the car behind us. They're fine," Jeff gently assured.
Still feeling rather tired, Alan rested his head on his older brother's shoulder, taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes.
The next time he awoke, he was settled comfortably in a plush chair aboard Tracy One, the family's private jet. A warm blanket was draped over him and the light of the setting sun was streaming in through the window.
Alan looked around to see Scott sitting next to him, like a watchdog. Virgil and Gordon were asleep and John was no doubt piloting with Jeff.
Scott seemed to notice that he was awake. "Hey," he said with a warm smile, crouching down next to him.
Alan replied with, "Are we there yet?"
Scott's smile broadened at Alan's question; one that had always been regularly heard during flights and had always annoyed everyone else. "How are you feeling?" he asked, softly.
"Tired…the usual," mumbled Alan, not wanting to go through his symptoms.
Scott nodded his understanding. "Just another hour to go and we'll have you home," he assured.
Alan nodded. After a short silence, he asked, "Things won't ever go back to the way they were, will they?"
Scott looked at him sternly with his dark blue eyes before shaking his head. "No," he replied.
Alan was startled at his brother's bluntness.
Scott rested his hands on Alan's arms. "But have you ever considered the possibility that things might get better? We all suffered and we've all learned from this. We're all going to get stronger, it'll just take a little time. Already we're improving." Scott's smile returned, slyly. "I mean, you haven't fought with Dad in about a week. That's gotta be a record of some kind."
Alan smiled sheepishly as Scott cradled the side of his head, fondly. His brother pulled up the blanket in a very motherly fashion. "Get some sleep," he instructed, softly.
Obediently, Alan closed his eyes. Scott's words had definitely comforted him, yet had not banished his fears of waking up to find himself locked in a cabin in the middle of nowhere…a pair of cold eyes gazing at him…a voice that invoked such terror from within him…
"It's alright, Alan…I'm still here…"