Chapter Fifteen: The Road to Recovery

Alan Tracy had done many difficult things in his life. He'd grown up without a mother, in the shadow of four strong-willed older brothers. He'd helped to save the world at age fifteen. He'd survived High School.

He never would have imagined that getting out of bed would have become the fourth entry on the list.

Gritting his teeth, he willed his stupid body to move. His hands balled into fists, his legs shifted slightly towards the edge of the bed but aside from that, nothing else happened. Alan strained, his face turning red from the effort and his legs finally slid across the bed and thumped onto the floor. The sudden drop of his deadened legs pulled him off balance and he almost pitched forward onto his face. Swearing loudly, Alan gripped the side of the bed and came to a standstill, his legs on the floor and his arms struggling to support his bodyweight. He wavered there for a moment and then the muscles in his arms gave out and he slid to the grown with a crash, knocking the clock off the table as he fell.

"Alan?"

Seething with frustration, Alan tried to push himself up again but this time his arms couldn't even raise him off the ground. He sagged back against the bed, panting. His blond hair fell into his eyes but he didn't even have the energy to push it aside.

"Alan!"

In the next instant, Virgil was there, strong hands wrapping around his waist and heaving him back up onto the bed. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?" he demanded, straightening the bed-sheets and retrieving the digital clock from where it had fallen.

Alan glowered at him. "I was just trying to get out of bed."

"Alan, you know it's too soon. You can't keep pushing yourself like this. You want to get better? You've got to give your body time to build up its strength again."

Alan sighed and stared up at the ceiling. It was the same spiel he'd been hearing since he'd finally awoken from the coma. Take things easy. Don't hurt yourself. You need to give your body time to heal. They'd even put a watch on him for the first few weeks – to make sure he didn't try and sneak out of bed before they thought he was 'ready'.

He was so sick of it.

He'd barely had a moment to himself since waking up. And then, even when he was left alone, he couldn't actually do anything except lie in the bed like some useless lump. Every day it was the same old, boring ritual. Wake up, do his exercises. Eat lunch, do some more exercises. Eat dinner, do some more exercises and then go back to sleep again. All from the comfort of the same dull bed, in the same dull room, with the same dull faces. Day after day after day.

And Virgil wondered why he tried to escape.

"Alan," Virgil pulled a chair over and settled next to the bed. "Alan, you've gotta stop doing this."

" 'I'm just slowing my recovery'," Alan mimicked sourly.

Virgil's sympathetic expression faded. "I don't just say that for my own good, you know. It's true. You've been in a coma, Alan. You're limbs have atrophied through lack of use. You need to build up your muscles again."

"And how long's that gonna take?"

"It's not an exact science. Could be weeks, could be months."

Great, Alan thought bitterly. "So I could be stuck here until I'm thirty."

"Or you could still be in the coma," Virgil returned shortly. "Maybe you should be grateful for what you've got and should stop moaning."

"And maybe you should try sitting in his damn room, each and every day," Alan snapped.

"Oh grow up, Alan!" Virgil stood up, looking irritated. "Or next time you fall I won't be here to pick you up again." Casting one last glance at his younger brother, he strode out of the room.

Alan glared after him, full of self-righteous anger and trying to ignore the fact that he knew he'd just acted like an idiot. What did Virgil know about anything? He wasn't the one who'd just woken up from a coma.

Ten minutes later, Alan's anger had completely faded and he regretting snapping at his brother. Virgil had only been trying to help him after all, and as the family member that was in charge of his recovery and exercises, Virgil had been getting the brunt of his frustrations recently. He figured he probably owed his brother an apology.

The problem was unless Virgil returned sometime soon, he wasn't going to get one.

Alan sighed again and rolled over clumsily, pressing his cheek into the cool fabric of the pillow. Things had been … difficult since he had woken up. His family had been smothering him, asking questions, checking his health. In one more person asked him how he was feeling, Alan thought he was going to scream. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his family's concern … the problem was, he didn't really understand what they'd gone through during the last few months.

Waking up and finding that he'd missed a chunk of his eighteenth year had been a shock. To make matters worse, his memory of events leading up to the accident were sketchy at best, so he struggled to understand exactly what had happened. With some prompting from his brother's he'd remember the call-out to Wales, but the actual details of the rescue escaped him and he'd even lost some of the days leading up to the accident. Even now, several weeks on, things were still hazy in his mind, like memories of childhood that he couldn't quite hold on to. And as with childhood memories, half the time he couldn't work out whether he was recalling a true event, or whether it was just something one of his brother's had told him.

Then, of course, there was the other confusing central factor in his life. Then there was Tin-Tin.

Something was going on with Tin-Tin. She'd been acting weirdly since he'd woken up. At first Alan had thought it was probably because she didn't know how to act around him but as the days had passed and her behaviour hadn't changed, he'd begun to think there was something more to it. Sometimes he'd catch her watching him with an unreadable expression on her face. Other times she'd spend hours alone with him, only to avoid him for the next few days. It was maddening, but every time he tried to talk to her about it, she changed the subject. A comment that Gordon had made a few days before had made Alan wonder if something had happened between him and Tin-Tin before the accident but if it had, it was one of those memories that refused to be found. If he wanted to know what was really going on, he was going to have to pin Tin-Tin down the next time she came to visit him. Maybe he could rig some way to lock the door mechanism from his bed, so he could stop her leaving the room until she would talk about it …

A knock on the doorframe caught Alan's attention. He looked up to see Gordon grinning at him. Alan found himself grinning back as his copper-haired brother sidled into the room. It was difficult to be moody when Gordon was around.

"Hey Al. How's it hanging?"

Alan waved one of his hands weakly before letting it flop back onto the bed. "Thrilling as always."

"That good, huh?" Gordon dropped down onto the bed beside him, taking care not to sit on his outstretched legs. "Virg said you took another dive."

Alan pulled a face. "Bet he went straight to Dad, didn't he? Or even worse – Scott."

"Nah – I'm pretty sure he just told me. He asked me to take your physio session this morning."

A wave of guilt flashed through Alan. He must have really pissed Virgil off.

"How mad is he?"

"You remember that time you put those beetles in his piano?"

"He's that mad?"

Gordon leaned forward and ruffled his hair. "Nah, not really." Alan scowled at him but Gordon merely grinned. "He just thought it would be a good idea if I took over for today."

Alan watched his brother face. For all Gordon's light-hearted words and joking around, there was an edge to his actions that Alan wasn't used to. It was something that he'd recognised in all of his family since he'd woken up; a slight hesitancy, veiled looks from the corner of eyes, carefully chosen words. Only someone who knew them as well as he did would notice. Alan wondered if his brothers or dad were even aware of it. And more importantly, what did it mean?

"So you ready for your workout?" When Alan didn't reply, he became concerned. "You okay, Al?"

Alan's eyes traced the lines of the ceiling tiles. "How bad was it?"

"What?"

"When I was … it was really serious wasn't it?"

Gordon was silent. When Alan looked across at him, the edge was back.

Gordon caught him looking and tried to shrug it off with a smile. "I've always said you're a deep sleeper, Al."

"Gordon –"

"Anyway, I haven't got all day so are we going to do this or not?"

"Gordon – just tell me."

Gordon's face dropped, the edge fading. For the first time Alan caught a glimpse of just how exhausted Gordon was – just how much this whole horrible experience had taken out of his fun-loving brother.

And with that growing knowledge, he no longer needed to hear Gordon's answer.

"It was serious, okay? Really serious." Gone was the trademark smile. "You can't even imagine … Two months, Al. Two months of not knowing if you were ever going to wake up or – " Gordon cut himself off and dropped into silence. Alan shifted uncomfortably, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut.

"When I walked into that room and saw you lying there …" Gordon continued slowly, " … you know, Al, I've never been so scared. Not even when I had my hydrofoil accident, or when the Hood had all of us trapped on Thunderbird 5. Then thought that you might die –"

Suddenly Alan didn't want to hear anymore. Gordon's honesty was too much. It forced him to confront his own mortality and the realisation of how close he'd come to death terrified him.

Gordon seemed to reach the same understanding because as their eyes met, he grinned weakly. "Look at me getting all emotional. I'm never gonna live this down, am I?"

Alan shook his head.

Gordan patted him on the shoulder. "Come on then, Sprout, up and at 'em. Your muscles aren't gonna get any stronger by you just sitting there."

And just like that, the conversation was over. Alan was glad – it wasn't something he was looking to talk about ever again. But, he concluded as he heaved himself upright, it had been good to hear. Maybe now he could finally start to understand where his family was coming from.

Tin-Tin was sitting in the lounge, trying not to think about Alan, when the object of her non-thoughts emerged out onto the patio, Gordon hovering protectively behind him. Alan was hunched over a walking frame, moving step by tiny step, his face a picture of concentration.

Tin-Tin's fingers tightened around the magazine that she hadn't really been reading. Her dark eyes rose over the top of the glossy pages and she watched as Alan moved painstaking across towards a pair of sunloungers.

Footsteps sounded behind Tin-Tin and she wasn't surprised when she felt the gentle pressure of her father's hand on her shoulder. For a moment they both watched quietly as Alan and Gordon continued to move across the patio.

"There is something on your mind, my daughter." It was an observation, not a question.

Tin-Tin looked up at her father. She could never hide anything from him.

"I would think that it has something to do with Mr Alan."

Almost against her own will, Tin-Tin's gaze returned to the scene outside. She sighed, knowing it would do her no good to deny it. "You would be right."

"He is the cause of much worry."

"He's been through a lot," Tin-Tin agreed.

"There has been much worry for his family, yes. But there has also been much worry for you."

Outside, Alan dropped heavily down onto one of the sunloungers. Gordon dragged the other one over and sprawled across it.

"I don't know what I would have done if he had died," Tin-Tin whispered.

"You care about him."

"Yes."

"Yet he hurts you."

Surprised, Tin-Tin twisted in her seat so that she could see her father's face. His expression was a serene as always but she detected a slight tightening around his mouth, which indicated he was concerned.

"I don't understand."

"You have sorrowed much these past months. Always your sorrow is caused by Mr Alan."

"He couldn't help what happened," Tin-Tin protested. "The accident –"

"I speak of a time before the accident."

Tin-Tin fell silent, recognising the truth of her father's words. It had been a difficult time – the kiss, the resulting confusion …

"And of a time after it."

"Father?"

"You still sorrow, my daughter. I see the pain in your eyes when you watch him."

Again, an observation she could not deny – and worse, one she couldn't really explain. Ever since Alan had woken up, she had been expecting him to come and talk to her about the state of their relationship; she had been waiting for him to confirm that his feelings were the same as hers. Instead, Alan had remained distant and unresponsive. Now it was all Tin-Tin could do to watch him from afar; spending time alone in his company was becoming too painful.

"He hurts you, my child, and this angers me."

"No, father –" Tin-Tin caught his hands in hers, as if to physically restrain him from approaching Alan, " – he is still ill, still recovering. That he does not feel as I do … it is no fault of his."

"If it is as you say then I believe he is a fool." Kyrano stroked Tin-Tin's dark hair, bringing his hand around to cup her chin. "You are as sweet and beautiful as any woman I have ever seen."

Tin-Tin blushed. Beyond them, the sound of laughter caught reached her ears and she looked back over her shoulder. Out on the patio, Gordon was waving his arms, a brilliant smile on his face and Alan was smiling back. His expression was so open, so happy that Tin-Tin's heart began to thump unpleasantly.

"I wish that Alan agreed with you, Father."

"I am glad that he does not," her father responded, surprising her, "for a fear should you walk down that path, he will hurt you again. To be careless with life and love – it is his nature."

You judge him too harshly, Tin-Tin thought privately as her eyes studied the familiar lines of Alan's face. There is more depth to Alan than anyone has seen.

If only he would let me in.

The moment that Alan laughed, Gordon knew that everything was going to be okay again. Such a small thing and yet it was like the shadow that had been hanging over Tracy Island had finally dissipated, and the sun had re-emerged. Somehow, by just seeing the old, familiar grin on Alan's face, he knew he had his brother back.

Gordon was so intent on this startling realisation that he lost track of whatever story he had been telling. Alan gave him an odd look. "You okay there, Gordy?"

"Uh – yeah. Yeah, so then I put the paintbrush back in Virg's room to throw Scott off the scent and – ah – Virgil got chewed out and I got off Scott-free."

Alan laughed again. "I always wondered about that one."

"So did I."

Both brothers jumped, Alan wincing, most likely in response to his aching muscles. Gordon whipped around to see Scott standing in the entrance of the lounge. He must have come down the stairs without them noticing.

He stiffened unconsciously upon seeing his older brother. He and Scott had been skirting carefully around one another since the night of Alan's collapse. Although part of Gordon admitted that the whole situation was a little ridiculous, and that, as grown men, they really should be able to work out their differences as adults, but another, more stubborn part insisted that Scott owed him an apology and Gordon'd be damned if he'd break the stalemate before he got one. Besides, some of the things he's said – well they'd been perfectly true and he wasn't looking to take them back.

Beside him, Alan relaxed. "Jeez, Scott, you should wear a bell. You scared the life out of me. Are you looking to put me back in a coma?"

"That's not funny." Scott stepped out on to the patio, his expression disapproving.

Alan had the grace to look abashed. Gordon rolled his eyes, wondering when the penny would drop and Scott would stop taking life so seriously. Probably about the time that hell froze over.

"How're you feeling, Alan?"

And here came the Mother Hen routine. Gordon watched Alan's face, taking note of the flicker of irritation that danced across it.

"I'm fine."

"And the physio?"

"Good."

"Virg mentioned yesterday he was gonna try a new set of exercises. How'd they work out?"

Alan shifted awkwardly. "Dunno."

Scott frowned.

Gordon felt he should offer some kind of explanation. "Virg didn't take him for physio this morning. I did."

Scott's eyebrows rose so far they almost disappeared beneath his hairline. Gordon bristled at the instantly negative reaction. "What, you don't think I'm capable or something?" he demanded.

"I didn't say that," Scott's reply was infuriatingly calm.

"No, you just implied it neatly, with your carefully raised eyebrows."

"What are you talking about?"

Gordon's irritation grew. "And here I was thinking subtlety was more along John's line of thinking. I'm impressed, Scott, really."

"You know, Gordon, that clever tongue of yours can be really annoying sometimes. I didn't even say anything and you're jumping to conclusions."

"You didn't have to! You've really got that Dad-imitation down pat – one raised eyebrow and I know exactly what you're thinking."

Scott's expression hardened. "I wish you'd just get over whatever grudge it is you're hanging on to because honestly, I'm getting pretty sick of being treated like dirt. Just grow up, Gordon." He turned on his heel and stalked back into the villa.

Gordon watched him go, anger simmering along every vein in his body. Beside him, Alan shifted and he looked over to see his brother staring at him as if he'd suddenly grown two heads.

"What the hell was all that about?"

"Nothing," Gordon said shortly.

"Didn't look like nothing. You guys never argue –"

"Just leave it, Alan."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I said it's nothing." Gordon's irritation boiled over. "And you know what? Even if it was something, it's none of your business. We're not ten anymore, Alan. I don't have to tell you everything."

The hurt expression on his little brother's face brought him up short. Why was he taking his anger out on Alan? Gordon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Al, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you, I just … Look, it's nothing okay?"

Alan looked unconvinced.

"Scott and me, there're just a few things that we –"

As if to compound the misery of the situation, the warning klaxon chose that moment to sound. Gordon swore fluently in a number of different languages. He stood up quickly, ignoring the impressed look on Alan's face and cast about for someone to help him. There was no way he could leave Alan here, alone – especially not right next to a nice, open pool of water. His Dad, not to mention to rest of the anxious Tracy family, would kill him.

Gordon's eyes alighted upon the slight figure that was rising to her feet in the lounge.

"Tin-Tin!"

The girl turned around, her cheeks colouring. Gordon wondered how much of the argument she'd just heard. He jogged across to her, hanging around the edge of the glass door of the lounge. "Could you look after Alan for me? Get him back to his room safely?"

"But the rescue –"

"Unless it's a big one, I doubt we'll need your help, honey. I'll explain the situation to Dad."

"But –"

"Thanks Tin-Tin. I owe you one." He turned back to his brother. "See you later, Al!"

Without giving either of them the chance to reply, Gordon hurried across the lounge and disappeared into the interior of the villa.

Trapped, Tin-Tin had no choice but to join Alan out on the patio. To walk away would have been rude and besides, Gordon was right. It was too dangerous to leave Alan on his own right now.

The conversation with her father still fresh in her mind, Tin-Tin stepped out into the warm sunlight with a false show of confidence. Her father was right – she was pretty and kind – and if Alan couldn't see that … well then her father had been right again: he was a fool.

She was done with skirting carefully around him.

"Hey, Tin-Tin."

Of course, that didn't mean she didn't have to be polite. "How are you feeling today?" She seated herself carefully on the sunlounger Gordon had just vacated.

Alan shrugged, looking annoyed. "I wish everyone would stop asking me that."

Which equally didn't mean she had to put up with his self-pity. "Oh stop being such a baby. We're just concerned. Would you rather no one gave a damn?"

Alan looked taken aback. "No, I just … I'm not an invalid, you know? I'm still me."

"Alan, you almost died. You can't expect people to just get over that in a couple of days. It's going to take time."

"It's getting on my nerves," Alan muttered.

Tin-Tin felt her patience fading. "Then live with it," she said shortly. "You're lucky to have so much support around you. Even if you don't always deserve it," she added in an undertone.

Unfortunately, the accident didn't seem to have affected Alan's hearing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tin-Tin didn't reply. Across from her, Alan shifted with a grimace and pulled himself to the edge of the sunlounger. When she looked up, he was mere inches away from her, his hands resting on his knees.

"Tin-Tin … have I done something wrong?"

Tin-Tin pulled backwards. She couldn't think clearly when his huge blue eyes were so close. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, 'cos you've been acting kind of weird," Alan told her bluntly. "I mean, I know thing's have been tough and all – and pretty much everyone's acting weird around me in some way but … I dunno. There's just seems to be something – something more with you."

" 'Something more with me'," Tin-Tin echoed bitterly, moving back even further. She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. "I wonder why that would be, Alan."

Those blue eyes narrowed. "Okay, now you're doing that thing where I'm supposed to guess what you're thinking, aren't you? I hate it when girls do that …"

"You shouldn't have to guess anything."

"Oh, so it's something I've forgotten then? Okay, well, I'm sorry for – for whatever I did, or said. But in light of everything that's happened … can't we just let it go?"

Let it go. The words rang in Tin-Tin's mind and she actually felt her heart break. After everything that had happened, everything that she and Alan had shared both before and during the accident and he just wanted to let it go?

Tin-Tin wanted to protest. She wanted to demand that he say their kiss meant nothing – but she was too afraid to hear his answer. Besides, she was going to get down on her knees and beg. She was beautiful and she was proud and if Alan Tracy wanted nothing more to do with her then it was his loss.

So, "Fine," she said quietly. "Let's just 'let it go'.

"Great," Alan looked so relieved that it was all Tin-Tin could do to keep the tears from falling. "So, anyway, could you do me a favour?"

Whatever Alan was about to ask was drowned out by the sudden rumbling that came from beneath them. The ground began to tremble and they turned as one to watch as the lower swimming pool slid away and Thunderbird 1 emerged from the depths of the island. As the rocket shot up into the sky, it was joined by the familiar green bulk of Thunderbird 2, and together the two ships streaked off into the distance and were soon out of sight.

"I wish I could go with them," Alan murmured.

That's what got us into this mess in the first place, Tin-Tin thought uncharitably. You and your stupid need to risk your life.

"Instead, I'm stuck here."

The 'with you' was unspoken but unmistakably meant.

It was at that point that Tin-Tin decided she didn't want to 'let things go' anymore. No, if she had to be stuck here with Mr Alan-Selfish-Tracy then he was going to know exactly what she thought of him for treating her like dirt.

"No."

"No what?" Alan asked distractedly, his eyes still scanning the horizon as if he stared hard enough he would be able to track the Thunderbirds progress.

"No – I'm the one that's stuck."

"Huh?"

"And I'm sick of it," Tin-Tin warmed to her theme, drawing herself up straight and placing her feet firmly on the ground. "I'm sick of feeling like a spare part, of waiting for the smallest sign, the slightest indication that I didn't imagine everything. I'm sick of being walked all over. I'm beautiful and I'm smart and I deserve a damn sight better than this!"

"Tin-Tin –"

"I no longer care if I didn't mean anything to you. Because do you know what? It meant even less to me. And do you know what else, Alan Tracy? I could do so much better- I deserve so much better – than a spoilt child who tramples all over every one else's feelings without even caring!"

Alan gaped at her. Tin-Tin glared back, her dark eyes flashing but a tremendous sense of pride rising up inside of her. Finally speaking her mind … it had been too long in coming.

"So before I 'let it go', Alan, I just want you to know that it was the biggest, most monumental mistake of my life and I'll never understand why I saw something in someone who's so shallow he's almost transparent!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Alan's words only strengthened Tin-Tin's resolve. She laughed coldly, unable to believe that even now he was continuing to deny knowledge and responsibility. "I thought you wanted to 'let it go'."

"I was talking about whatever I'd done to upset you! Not bloody World War Three! Why do you have to be so melodramatic about everything?"

"Melodramatic? Melodramatic? Excuse me, but if my memory serves then you were the one who kissed me! You're the one who started this whole mess. And now you won't even accept responsibility … I can't believe I was ever interested in having some kind of relationship with you!"

Her words rang out into the empty silence. Alan was staring at her, his face even paler than normal, his blue eyes wide.

"Kiss?" he whispered.

"Yes," Tin-Tin snapped. "Don't try and pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Even I'm not that gullible, Alan."

"I kissed you?"

"Yes!"

"When?"

"It was before –" Tin-Tin broke off, a horrible realisation dawning over her. "It was before the accident."

Alan paled even further. He rubbed his forehead, looking upset.

Tin-Tin felt sick – hot, embarrassed and her cheeks burned with shame. "You don't … you don't remember do you. You don't remember kissing me."

His blue eyes met hers. "No," he whispered.