Saving Alan Chapter 5
Trigger Warning: Abuse of a student by a teacher/authority figure, suicidal ideation, self-harm
The final day of the quarter couldn't have come too soon. It was Friday, and Alan had taken three exams the day before leaving two remaining for that day, which he had graciously gotten out of the way in his morning classes. He had been lucky to avoid having to stay after class to face the wrath of Dr. Smith the day before, as he had completed his physics exam quickly and with ease. Since so many students were still in the classroom when Alan was ready to turn in his paper and leave, there would have been too many witnesses to Dr. Smith's typical berating and abuse of Alan. So of course, he couldn't be so lucky that day to pass by without incident. It was his last class of the last day of school before spring break, and while everybody else was feeling jovial and getting ready to celebrate, the nausea was creeping through Alan's body.
It began with a silent signal to Alan to stay after class. When the bell rang all the other students scooped up their books and papers and began to form a mob at the doorway. But before Alan could even think about sliding from his seat, Dr. Smith was there blocking his exit. He stealthily slid two pictures of Alan's family onto the desk, one was of Virgil leaving from the choir concert earlier that week with crosshairs overlapping his head. The other was of his father and brother Gordon having dinner near Tracy Towers in New York. Alan wasn't certain when that picture had been taken, but he knew his father and Gordon had gone to New York on Tracy Enterprises business a couple weeks before. The point was loud and clear, as usual; do as I say or your family will pay the price. So Alan stayed still while the rest of the school ran back to their dorms to grab their belongings and get ready to flee the school for a couple of weeks.
And what was even the point of this? Over the past weeks it seemed to be the same old song and dance. Dr. Smith attacked Alan verbally, insulting him, breaking down his hopes, preying on his insecurities. He attacked him academically, pretending to lose Alan's homework and projects, calling him stupid. He attacked him physically shoving him around, throwing a few punches. Alan had to wonder what the guy was getting out of this. What was the payoff in tormenting a student, and why did he single Alan out? His wonderings did nothing to save him from his current predicament, though.
That afternoon Dr. Smith slammed Alan to the ground hard and toppled a desk across his ribcage, pinning him to the floor.
"Remember, I own you," Smith snarled into Alan's face, "You say one word and your family suffers. Don't worry Tracy, I'll have what I want soon enough."
And with that, Alan was free to go.
The hallways were abandoned by the time Alan was released. He made his way gingerly to his dorm room, every step inflaming the damage he'd just sustained to his ribs. He was certain he had cracked a few, if not worse. What was he going to do? Was this an injury that he could wait out? He'd have to concoct a darn good story if he couldn't. He didn't have time to dwell on his plight, he'd arrived at his dorm and Fermat was staring at him worriedly. He put on his best (fake) reassuring smile, grabbed his already packed luggage, and slung his free arm (with immense pain) over Fermat's shoulders. They were finally going home.
They headed down to the North Hall of campus where parents were meant to pick up students. He wasn't looking forward to having to see a therapist or any of that garbage, but he knew his dad had said he wanted to pick the boys up himself. Alan couldn't wait to see his family. Sure, they picked on him and gave him grief, and it was true that Alan felt immensely inadequate around them. But they were his family and he missed them dearly. He felt himself tearing up at the thought, but refused to let the tears surface. He'd done far too much crying that semester, in his opinion. Alan used to be someone who never let a tear grace his eye and now he was finding it to be a nightly occurrence. No way he was going to succumb to tears of sentiment on top of everything else.
They were in for a surprise when they got to the North Hall; the students who had not yet been picked up were crowded around the television set hooping and crowing about the Thunderbirds. The reality of the situation hit Alan in the stomach like a lead balloon. He realized two things almost instantly: First, that his brothers were once again in an impossibly dangerous situation and he had to watch on, pretending that he wasn't personally invested in their making it through this rescue alive, and second, that his dad would not be picking them up after all.
Alan loved International Rescue, so he always knew that rescues were of vital importance. He wouldn't expect or even want his father or brothers to shirk this duty for the pathetic purpose of gathering Alan from school. But something inside of Alan was disappointed and hurt that the Thunderbirds once again came before him. He was at war withing himself, knowing that International Rescue was extremely important in one corner and that he shouldn't think selfishly, in another recess of his mind he knew he wasn't worth his family's time, though he wretchedly wanted to be, and in a third corner he wished fervently that his dad would miraculously still be the one to come.
He valiantly buried his disappointment when their dear family friend, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward arrived with her chauffer, Parker. He liked both Lady P and Parker immensely, and they had a way of brightening Alan's day every time. But today he was down. He tried to be a lively conversationalist on the flight home, but his mind was obsessed over whether his brothers were safe, how he was going to survive Dr. Smith's latest threat, whether or not he'd get along with his family over break, and how on Earth he was going to explain his physics grade to his father.
He didn't have to wait long to see his brothers safe and sound. As Parker navigated Lady P's pink Rolls Royce expertly through the air they were met with a glorious sight! Thunderbirds One and Two sped through the air and were soon gliding on either side of the Rolls Royce. They shared a playful wave with each other, Scott showed off with some aerial trick in Thunderbird One, and the two birds sped off gracefully. A small weight was lifted off of Alan's shoulders as he knew that his brothers were safe and on their way home.
His brothers and dad were debriefing the mission when Alan and his fellow passengers touched down on Tracy Island. As Fermat excitedly reunited with his dad, Alan sought refuge in his bedroom. He was horribly tempted to lie down in his bed and sleep for days, but he knew that if he did lie down now he really wouldn't be able to get himself up in time for dinner.
It wasn't long before he heard the unmistakable sounds of his three older brothers barreling down the hallway toward the outdoor dining patio. Alan braced himself, embarrassingly wanting to cry yet again, but once again winning the battle. He didn't even know why this time. He was filled with excitement at the idea of going to greet his family, but at the same time he felt so down inside and so worried over…well, everything. On top of that, the pain in his ribs was positively throbbing, he wasn't sure he wanted to move at all.
Knowing that if he didn't meet up with them soon they'd come looking for him, Alan made his way out toward his family. Upon finding them, there was a look of uncertainty that passed across his brothers' faces. He knew why, after all, each of them had told him flat out that they thought he looked awful. Alan knew it too, but he didn't think there was much he could do. Though he spent all of his free time in bed these days, he rarely slept. And his appetite was non-existent. He'd seen a mirror, he wasn't ignorant to any of this. Nevertheless, the moment passed and soon his brothers were all patting him on the back and scruffing up his hair (actions that would have been far better appreciated if he wasn't in so much pain). It's the hug from his dad that he especially took comfort in. And much like the day he left for school, he found that he wished his father wouldn't let him go. Instead, Jeff held him out in front of him and gave him a long, searching look up and down. Lines of worry weaved themselves across his father's brow, but he soon shook his head and the look was replaced with one of pride "You've grown some more," was what he said, but it seemed as though other words were bubbling just under the surface. Thankfully, Onaha chose that moment to corral them all around the table for dinner.
Of course, "thankfully" was a loaded word. Alan hadn't been hungry in two months, and now his ribs were searing beneath his skin. Virgil took the liberty of loading his plate up for him and placing it in front of him with a look that promised retribution if he didn't eat every bite. That told him something. It was usually Scott who played the part of Mother Hen to all of his younger brothers. But when it came to matters of health and medicine, trust Virgil to not let them out of his sight. Virgil was obviously concerned for Alan's health if his own Mother Hen was surfacing. Alan would have eaten the whole plateful and more if his stomach would have allowed for it. He loved Onaha's cooking, and being back at the island was the safest he'd felt in the entire two months of this semester from Hell. But it just wasn't meant to be; his stomach roiled and protested. He was dangerously close to vomiting up the two bites of food he had managed, and he couldn't keep down another crumb. Deftly avoiding Virgil's steadfast gaze, Alan turned to his father and asked for dismissal. His father granted that permission cautiously. Everybody was treating him like an egg that was about to crack, and they were staring at him like a bug under a microscope. He was never going to make it through spring break with his secrets in tact, didn't they know he was trying to save their lives? Suddenly he had to run, had to get out of there.
In the future, looking back at that night would always make Alan cringe and squirm at his own selfishness and ignorance. All he had really wanted was someplace to hide away from it all. When Alan was just a mite of a child, toddling around at his father's ankles, he used to come and sit in the silos as his father and brains worked tirelessly perfecting Thunderbird 3. He remembered simpler times sitting in his father's lap inside the great bird while his father explained what each part of the control panel did. He wanted that time back so badly. Could it be any wonder, then, that he found himself escaping to Thunderbird three? He felt a sense of being truly home and relief instantly washed over him at the familiarity of it all. He knew he shouldn't have messed with the controls, he knew that, why did he have to be so stupid all the time? Why was he always doing stuff like this? He didn't know, but what was done was done. A voice came over the comm system, "Alan! My office, now!" All the good feelings of familiarity and relief drained from his being until they settled with a thud in the pit of his stomach. It was time to face the music.
Jeff was trying. Man, he was trying. Being a parent to a teenager was not for the faint of heart! He knew Alan needed extra understanding and support to get him through whatever it was he was battling against. But knowing and carrying through are two different things when dealing with an adolescent who seems to know exactly how to push every button you have.
Jeff had big plans for Alan that break, and none of them were things Alan was particularly looking forward to (or would approve of if he knew they were about to happen). He had set up an appointment with a mental health care team for later in that week to talk with Alan. That part, Alan was aware of. They'd be flying into New York on Monday morning. What Alan didn't know was that he would be seeing his pediatrician for a full physical and work up while they were there. The psychology team had wanted a full blood panel done to determine whether his mental health issues could be part of an underlying illness. Frankly, Jeff thought a physical was a good idea. It hadn't been a full year since Alan's last physical, but his little boy looked so tired and sick and frail. Jeff would move mountains to get his boy healthy again, a physical was the least of it. Alan wasn't going to be happy. He wanted so desperately to be seen as an adult, to be independent, to be his own man. He was on the way to that, but the truth was that he was still fourteen. His mind may have wanted to be strong and independent, but that couldn't change the reality of the situation that he was a child who still had learning and growing to do.
And these were the things that Jeff calmly tried to remind himself of as he sat seething in his office. Jeff had gotten Alan's report card earlier in the day. It was the same old, same old. Alan was an impressive student, but his teachers still insisted that on the best of days Alan's mind was up in the clouds. And, of course, there was that horrifying physics grade. Jeff just didn't get it. He knew his boy was facing something difficult, whatever it may be, but that grade simply grated against him. He held it together. Alan needed him to be compassionate and understanding. Then he watched at dinner as Alan distanced himself from the family. He looked at how weak his son had become. That didn't grate on him, that worried him senseless. It was March already and he had held his patience for over two months waiting for Alan to confide in him to tell him what was bothering him, but it wasn't happening and in the meantime Alan was obviously making himself physically ill! A father can handle a lot of things, but watching his child self-destruct wasn't on that list! He needed to keep his patience, he needed to keep his patience, he needed to keep his patience…but why couldn't Alan just be honest and tell him what was going on!
In reality, it was his desperate worry for Alan that was bubbling up and festering beneath the calm façade of his attitude. Alan fooling around in the Thunderbirds was only a single straw stacked up in the bundle of worries and frustrations that he had for Alan's current situation. But it was that straw which broke the camel's back. His son stood in front of him making excuses, begging to be seen as an adult, denying that anything was wrong. Whatever was going on with him needed to be dealt with, because this was serious! He could have been hurt messing around in the silos by himself, let alone in the Thunderbird. He could have blown the secrecy of their whole operation and gotten his family hurt. And all of this on top of whatever mess that was burdening Alan's soul that Jeff couldn't possibly begin to understand yet. He just wanted Alan to get it, to understand that things needed to be dealt with. But Alan didn't get it, he couldn't get it, because as much as he wanted to be seen as an adult, he was still just a kid. Well, if he wants to be seen as an adult….
"Bottom line, Alan," Jeff finally lost control of himself, "You need to grow up."
"Then let me." And with his parting words, Alan stormed away.
Jeff had managed to ground Alan in that confrontation, but still hadn't broken the news to him that the week would be spent being poked and prodded by doctors and therapists. One day at a time. His boy would make it through all of this okay, he had to, he just had to be okay.
The comms system trilled in his office. Ah, that would be John checking in for the night then. Jeff loved, respected, and relied on all of his sons for one thing or another. They were closer than most families in many ways. They had dealt with the crushing blow of Lucille's death together, they faced the army of reporters who constantly swarmed them together, they put their lives on the line rescuing the world and so trusted each other as a team with those very lives of theirs, they lived together, worked together, cried together, laughed together. But John was the one that Jeff turned to when he couldn't make sense of the world. John was so patient and understanding. He was slow to anger and he had some sort of superpower when it came to deciphering other people's emotions. Jeff's heart softened as he took in the welcome sight of his second eldest son. They allowed for a couple moments of silly banter before John pointedly turned the conversation to what was weighing on Jeff's mind. Jeff was grateful for the refocused perspective and for the reprieve that talking with John gave him.
He knew John was worried for Alan too. John was in space on Thunderbird 5, and so couldn't make it to Wharton's to visit as Scott and Virgil had. But he was the one Alan turned to for advice (just as they all seemed to) and for help with his studies. Thinking about that only added more complexity to Jeff's frustrations, though, because John had said on many occasions that Alan had come to him with help in physics…why ask for help when he was only going to shirk the homework anyway? No, Jeff would not allow himself to get riled back up. It was late, he was tired. John had confirmed that all was quiet on the rescue front. Jeff knew that he should turn in and get some sleep while he still could.
The last thing Jeff did before heading off to bed for the night was to go look in on Alan. He stood outside the bedroom with slight trepidation. But inside he didn't hear a sound. He gave a very gentle tap on the door, so as not to wake his son if he was asleep. He didn't receive a response, so he quietly made his way inside. Alan looked so young lying there. His face was a pale white, and even in sleep the bags outlined his boy's eyes. All the emotions from the past few months rolled into a ball at the back of Jeff's throat. Anguished, Jeff leaned over and whispered so quietly that it was almost inaudible, "I wish you could understand how much I love you." With that, He kissed his son's head, pulled the light blanket more snuggly around his shoulders, and walked out of the room.
Alan had been pretending to sleep as his father came in. His abdomen throbbing not just from the abuse Dr. Smith had heaped on him, but from a series of newly acquired cuts. He had told himself that he wouldn't cut over spring break, there wouldn't be a need because without school his stress would be lessened. The fight with his father had been too much, but his arms had still been so gouged from previous cutting sessions that he had to move on to his abdomen. He was going to have to make every excuse not to go swimming so they wouldn't see, but he would've had to do that anyway with his scared arms and bruised torso.
He hadn't been expecting his father to come. At his dad's soft knock on the door he had pretended to be fast asleep to avoid further confrontation. It took absolutely everything within him not to burst into tears as his father stood over him. Seriously, what was WITH him? Why did he feel like crying all the time now?
Could his father really still love him after all his failures and disappointments? His father was a good man, Alan wasn't sure he was worthy of that love. His ribs didn't seem to hurt half as much anymore, he would protect his father and his brothers with his life if he needed to, so what was a little pain? He felt a new determination to overcome Dr. Smith, to find a way to defeat the man and his accomplices without anyone he loved being hurt in the process. And even in the midst of that determination he felt tired and broken and so alone.