Saving Alan Chapter 10
Trigger warning- there is a little talk of abuse and a little depressed thinking
Scott didn't want to go back to Tracy Island, something was bothering him about having Alan on the mainland while Dr. Smith was free. Jeff Tracy was a force to be reckoned with, and nothing was more important to him than his sons and their safety, so Scott knew that he would be watching Alan like a hawk. Scott would have felt better, though, if he could stay as an extra layer of protection. He knew that his dad wanted him to be working on putting a case together against Dr. Smith and finding his associates. That was the number one priority. They couldn't just wrap Alan in bubble wrap and surround him with body guards his whole life. It would be better for everyone if the threat was neutralized as soon as possible. Scott made up his mind, he wouldn't rest until that monster was behind bars (and maybe Scott would get a few punches in before that happened).
Scott was up and raring to go at 6:00 that morning, as usual. As far as he was concerned, the sooner they got back to Tracy Island, the sooner they could get their investigation underway, put the monster away for good, and get back to New York to help their brother through this time in his life. But that couldn't happen if Virgil slept until 11 like he normally did. Well, maybe Scott would employ Gordon to wake him up and get him moving. No doubt Gordon could wake him up with creativity and flair. That is, if Gordon got his own butt out of bed any time soon. He decided to get some Tracy Enterprises work out of the way to give his mind something to focus on.
His father seemed to have similar ideas, as Scott entered the living room with his laptop in hand, he found his father already in the thick of work.
"Whatcha workin' on?" Scott asked, as he settled into a chair across from Jeff.
"Something concerning." Jeff seemed distracted. "Smith is such a common name that we needed a starting place. I logged onto the parent pages of Wharton's website to get a little more information to go off of. It seems that Dr. Smith is Quincy Smith, who apparently graduated from Wharton's Academy the same year I did. But I don't remember the guy."
"So it sounds like this isn't just some random person assuming the Tracy family is rich and spoiled, this might be a very personal grudge?" That was worrying, they had plenty of practice with their fame getting in the way of a peaceful life. People often assumed that they were rich and arrogant or spoiled. It had sounded like that was Dr. Smith's grudge with Alan. It was totally out of line, their father had worked hard for every penny he ever earned and he had made sure his sons held the same values. But it didn't matter, if this Quincy Smith had graduated from high school with their dad, maybe it stemmed to something deeper.
"I can't imagine what grudge that would be. I really didn't have any beefs in high school. I got along with everybody, at least I think I did…." Jeff was lost in thought, but an idea came to him as he wandered over to his bookshelf and began searching for his old high school yearbooks.
Scott could see his dad getting along with everyone, he had always been fair and diplomatic. He had taught his sons the value of mediation and holding healthy discussions instead of arguments, and he certainly had never tolerated any form of violence (physical, verbal, or otherwise) from any of them (even with situations like The Hood, the fight was initiated by The Hood himself and the Thunderbirds only fought back insomuch as it would take to bring him into the proper authorities). Scott couldn't remember a time when his father had been more disappointed in him than the time he had gotten in a fight in 7th grade.
"I'm going to have to speak to him today," Jeff continued. "And I don't have any recollection of the guy. It's going to be a dangerous balance."
Scott disagreed; he didn't think his father should speak to Alan's teachers today. He wanted his father to wait a couple of weeks to the end of Alan's spring break. It would give them a chance to gather info on Smith's associates and build up their case. But today was the day that was open for parent teacher conferences. Jeff had been fuming over Alan's physics grade before he realized what the problem was. Any other parent would have made the conference, especially since Thunderbird's business had kept him from attending at the end of last semester. His father insisted it would look suspicious if he didn't go. Jeff planned on attending the conferences with each of Alan's teachers and telling them about his upcoming leave of absence from school at the same time so that he could deliver Alan's completed spring break homework and make arrangements to pick up and deliver any future assignments. In the case of Dr. Smith Jeff was going to feign ignorance. He would act like any other parent angry at their kid for failing a course. He would pretend to agree with Dr. Smith that Alan was being lazy. They didn't need the man to cotton on to the fact that Alan had told them anything at all.
Now that their father had pulled up Smith's full name and general age, Scott could start to run a basic search on him. Meanwhile his father searched through the yearbooks to try and find anything of use. The guy seemed like a narcissistic personality, it would be to their benefit for Jeff to pretend to recognize him at conferences.
The search didn't turn up very much info, other than so far Quincy Smith was rather unremarkable in high school. His father studied the one picture he could find of the man in the yearbook, and vaguely remembered seeing a face like his, but it was so long ago that the memory was fleeting at best.
Unfortunately, Alan recognized the yearbook picture immediately when he walked into the room. He had still donned his pajamas and bedhead, they weren't sure he was even fully awake, when a glance at the book had him freezing in his tracks in horror. Of course Alan had known about their investigation, but they had planned on keeping him as removed from it as possible. The look on his face as he gaped at the picture before him solidified in their minds that they had made the right choice; Alan did not need to suffer through the brunt of their search.
"Son, don't think about it," Jeff said as he closed the yearbook. "Just let us take care of it. You know he can't escape the Thunderbirds. Heck, even if we weren't the Thunderbirds, you know he'd never escape the wrath of Big Brother Scotty." Jeff tried to joke, but the look of ire and steel in his eyes couldn't be hidden. It was that very look that convinced Alan more than anything that they would be safe. All joking aside, he knew all of his brothers were out for blood, and his father more than all of them put together. Smith had threatened three of Jeff's sons directly and the rest of the family indirectly. The man was about to wish he'd never been born.
With a little more prompting Jeff had gotten Alan to go get showered and ready for his first day of the outpatient program. Alan wasn't feeling as nervous as he thought he would be; he honestly wasn't feeling anything at all. He didn't exactly like it, but he had a grudging appreciation for the days where he went emotionally numb like this, it was a reprieve from the onslaught of pain and negativity that he normally felt.
By the time Alan was showered, dressed, and ready to go, the rest of the family had awoken (or BEEN awoken…Virgil had apparently suffered a water balloon attack in his own bed at the hands of an over-eager Gordon). They tried to convince Alan to grab a bite to eat, but he was feeling especially nervous for his first day and all their pleading and admonishments went unheeded. By the time Alan would return from the hospital his brothers would be well on their way back to Tracy Island, so they all said their goodbyes before they left. It was a flurry of hugs and noogies and good-natured shoving that saw Alan off for his first day. John would be staying an extra night, as he had a meeting to attend for Tracy Enterprises. He would be taking Tracy 2 back to the island the next day. Gordon and Scott each had Tracy Enterprises business to attend to the next week, so they would both be arriving on the following Sunday night, but it would be a couple weeks before he next saw Virgil. He was a bit sad, but he had been bolstered by their hugs and rough-housing, and found that he was more ready to face the day than he had been before.
Jeff felt like he was dropping Alan off at kindergarten all over again. He knew this was good for him, he knew Alan would be safe, but he wished he could stay here and hold his hand through this. As they arrived at the adolescent psych unit Jeff made to give Alan a hug and a kiss on the head, but an embarrassed muttered "Da-ad" from Alan (while other teens walked by with their parents) made him reconsider and settle for a manly pat on the shoulder instead. Jeff had to chuckle to himself at that, okay, so it wasn't like dropping off a kindergartner, Alan was very much a teenager!
Jeff reminded Alan that he was going to be late since he'd be flying to Massachusetts and back for Alan's conferences. Alan would get picked up at 3:00 on the dot by John and wasn't to leave the safety of the psych unit (which was locked down and easily the most secure unit in the hospital because of the nature of the situations that they tended to deal with on a daily basis) until he actually saw his brother through the window that peered into the hallway.
Once Alan had been checked in Jeff steeled his nerves. He had to put on a brave front for his boy, but this whole situation with Smith made him nervous and ill. Jeff had an easy flight from New York to Massachusetts. It was only a 10 minute drive from the small airport to the school, and he used that time to review what he wanted to say to Alan's teachers, especially Smith.
The headmaster at Wharton's was a friendly acquaintance of Jeff's. Jeff had sent all of his sons to high school there. He supposed that was the reason they were so willing to enroll Alan after his little chem lab explosion accident in middle school. It had been exactly that, an accident, but he had been worried at the time that it would impact his chances of getting into a good high school negatively. As it was, Wharton's was the only one which had offered him acceptance (which was just fine with Jeff because Wharton's was his first choice anyhow). Dr. Lyzak greeted Jeff warmly as he stepped into the office. They shot the breeze for a couple minutes before Jeff got down to business. He first told him about Alan's psych stay (knowing that medical information would be kept confidential, but that the headmaster would need to know the nature of what was keeping Alan out of school for so long), and then talked to him about his concern for Alan's physics grade.
Dr. Lyzak was not surprised to hear about either of Jeff's concerns. Alan had been a stellar student. He was easy going, polite, he was involved in a healthy variety of extra-curricular interests which he excelled at, and for the most part he pulled very good grades. He was the type of student that Wharton's was proud to call their own (just as all of the Tracy boys had been). But he had noticed that Alan was becoming more and more withdrawn and ill looking as the year went on. Jeff had called a few weeks before spring break to talk to him and arrange meetings for Alan with the school nurse and the counselor, and Dr. Lyzak was relieved to hear it. And as for that physics grade, well that was concerning too. He didn't know the youngest Tracy as well as the others yet, but it just didn't seem to align with his other grades and the drive he seemed to have in other areas of school life. Nevertheless, his lack of surprise didn't mean he lacked concern.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Jeff. Alan is a great kid. I hope he's feeling better and back to his old self soon. In the meantime, we'll do everything we can to help him continue to succeed in his classes. In addition to his teachers, you might want to speak with the coaches and directors of his extra-curricular activities, I know they'll be gutted to hear that he'll be out for so long, he really is an incredible asset to every team and club he's a part of. I'm not sure if they'll be able to hold his spot on the track team, but I'm sure he can jump back in next year."
This threw Jeff for a loop. He hadn't known Alan was involved in any extra activities. He didn't show it, though, and that was only due to years of being a business man, he knew how to hold his cards close. "Could you tell me their names and where I can find each of them?"
Headmaster Lyzak gave Jeff the information he needed to find all of Alan's classrooms and activities. As Jeff went from class to class and coach to coach, he felt his chest swelling with pride. Sure, sometimes Alan spaced out a bit in class (Jeff had to factor in the realization that stress, anxiety, and depression would play a part in that), and sometimes he couldn't help himself from talking to Fermat or another classmate during class (Jeff inwardly groaned a bit at that, Alan had always had a bubbly and carefree personality, and his excitement got him into trouble from time to time), but overall his teachers thought he was a smart, well-rounded student with a lot of promise for the future.
Jeff was intrigued by the robotics club that Alan had joined. The purpose of the club was to create robots who would ultimately try to defeat each other. This made sense to Jeff-Alan had always taken an interest in anything that had a motor. He loved racecars and trying to make things go faster, like the hoverboards on the island. Jeff knew Alan also had a frightening aptitude for computer programing. Honestly, he couldn't think of a club better suited to Alan's personality than this one. It seemed that the teacher who headed the club couldn't agree more.
Though the choir teacher hadn't meant to shame Jeff for not coming to any of the performances that year, that is exactly what Jeff felt when the Dr. Hirsch mentioned not having the pleasure of meeting Jeff at any of the concerts. Jeff asked if any of the performances had been recorded and was elated to hear that one of their fundraisers included selling DVD's of their concerts. Jeff bought a copy of each of them. The teacher gave Jeff some of the music that they would begin working on in the new quarter and asked Jeff to pass along his well wishes to Alan. He hoped that Alan would be back in plenty of time to join them for their summer concert.
Mr. Dupree was another friendly acquaintance of Jeff's. He had been the athletic director when all of his sons went through Wharton's, but he specialized in track. John had been a track star, and it seemed as though Alan was following in his footsteps (literally). The season had already started as far as practice was concerned, the team was meant to have their first meet after spring break. Mr. Dupree was disappointed that Alan wouldn't be joining them, it seemed he was shaping up to be quite an athlete and the team had high hopes that he could help them leave their competition in the dust! But Mr. Dupree had also noticed how ill and withdrawn Alan had become. So far all of the teachers and instructors Jeff had spoken to had noticed the same thing. Mr. Dupree, however, was the only one to ask about self-harm. He had noticed that Alan always wore long sleeves, even when they worked out in miserably hot, sweaty gym, Alan wore thermals under his shorts and short sleeves. Most guys only wore those when they ran outside on a colder day. And Alan had a tendency to change in a toilet stall and always opted to shower in his dorm room. If he was hiding damage to his body, that would explain it. Mr. Dupree hadn't been sure that was the case, and had been trying to keep a close eye on the boy's behavior. He hadn't wanted to push Alan away by accusing him of self-harm when nothing was going on. Mr. Dupree wasn't sure he could guarantee Alan's place on the team for that season when he came back, but he was quick to say Alan would be welcomed back to the soccer team in the fall. Another surprise for Jeff.
Jeff's heart broke that everybody had seemed to know that Alan was struggling, but nobody had said a word to him. He was the one who had initiated the meeting with the school nurse and guidance counselor, but from the sounds of it, somebody else should have said something long before. Of course, it wouldn't have mattered too much, as Jeff had already been aware and monitoring Alan himself.
The final meeting of the day was with Smith. Jeff had to summon every iota of calm and patience within himself to keep his temper in check. It would not do to blow their cover just yet. If Smith was to pay for his actions, and if his family was to be kept safe, Jeff needed to keep his cool. He found a nearby restroom and splashed some cold water over his face, then breathed in and out deeply for a couple of minutes. When he felt that he could face the man who hurt his son without blowing his top, he headed toward the classroom.
Another parent was just walking out as Jeff reached the door. Smith had shaken her hand cordially with a longsuffering look of overexaggerated patience on his face. But the moment he caught sight of Jeff, a look of malice passed through his eyes. He tried to stifle it and hide it behind a falsely cheerful greeting, but he was unsuccessful. Jeff could read the best business and poker faces in the industry, and this man had nothing on them. Jeff understood why Alan had reacted so immediately and so violently upon seeing the yearbook picture that morning. The man had apparently not changed all that much in 30 years, and Jeff recognized his face from the picture instantly.
Jeff began his charade. "Dr. Smith, it's good to finally meet you...although, we've already met before. You might not remember me, but I think we went to school together. Smith is a common name, I didn't make the connection until I saw your face." Jeff was lying, of course, the man's face was really as unremarkable as his high school career had been.
Smith was short in his responses, obviously having a harder time keeping his patience than Jeff was, which was impressive, really, since Jeff wanted to absolutely destroy the man. Jeff found he had to carry the weight of the conversation, making it even harder to keep up his charade of obliviousness.
Jeff used the man's quiet anger to fuel his plan, "Look, Dr. Smith, you must think I'm an awful parent. But it hasn't escaped my attention that my son is doing miserably in this class. He nearly failed last semester, he's on the same path this semester. I don't know what has gotten into him, I really don't. He usually gets his assignments in, and that's obviously his downfall in this class. I know he's understanding the material, because he seems to be passing all of the exams. I'm not sure what to do. Do you have any suggestions?"
If Jeff needed anymore confirmation that the man was not suited for teaching, or that the man despised him, he got it next, "I want to make something perfectly clear; I don't give free rides in my class." Jeff hadn't been asking for a free ride, he'd been asking for professional advice (though he would have disregarded it because he knew the truth of what was happening with Alan's grade). "It is my job to grade the material, it is his job to do it and hand it in. Perhaps he has lacked any sense of boundaries or consequences up until now." Jeff was going to hit him, Jeff was going to hit him, Jeff was going to hit him….
"I'll certainly take that into consideration," Jeff said as calmly as he could through gritted teeth.
The rest of the very short conference proceeded much the same. Jeff wished he had taken the winter conference, even without knowing of the abuse that Alan had suffered at his teacher's hands, he would have discovered that the man was cold, incapable of offering professional advice or any constructive suggestions, and frankly unsuited for teaching. Jeff wondered why the man was teaching at all because the longer he spoke the more Jeff realized that the guy hated working with teens, especially teens from financially privileged families (which was what the majority demographic was at Wharton's).
Jeff still had to break the news of Alan's absence. He assumed the professor would be giddy with the realization that his apparently least favorite student would be out of his hair.
"You will not have to worry about Alan acting up in class or missing any more assignments. He his been taken out on medical leave and will be away for at least a month. I have cleared this already with the headmaster. I will be turning in his assignments and picking up new work for him to complete. In fact, I have his spring homework right here. I looked it over, and it seems to be in order. Again, I'm very sorry for his missing work and attitude in the class thus far."
But the man looked livid. Jeff wasn't sure why, was it because now that Jeff was handing in the homework the man couldn't falsify Alan's grades anymore? Was it because he enjoyed having Alan in class to torture him? Jeff had originally thought that Alan's description of molestation seemed to be a sick act of power rather than some sort of twisted pedophiliac fantasy, but it was possible that taking Alan away also meant taking away the man's obsession. Jeff had to concentrate hard to swallow down the bile at the thought, as it was he swayed on his feet slightly with dizziness.
Instead he soldiered on, "Is there anything that Alan can be working on in the next month? I will be making weekly stops at the school beginning after spring break to pick up new homework and drop off completed work. Headmaster Lyzak has said that he will arrange appropriate methods for quizzes and exams with each teacher individually."
Smith looked like he was about to spit venom. "I will not be handing him any advantages. He can complete his work at the same time as everybody else. I will give you his next assignments the next time you come."
The meeting ended after that, and not a moment too soon, Jeff was ready to punch a wall. And Smith seemed to be in a similar state. At least the man didn't seem to be fearful, which means he had bought Jeff's act and didn't realize that Jeff knew about everything from the refused homework to the physical abuse.
Jeff needed to get home, he needed to see his kid. He wanted to know how his first day of therapy went, but mostly he just wanted to hold him tight and see his face. It was the only thing in the world that could calm his nerves at that moment.
Quincy Smith was seething. He had been on edge all day, knowing that Jefferson Tracy was on his conference schedule for the middle of the day. Tracy's face alone could drive Quincy to the edge of his sanity, but having to conference with that arrogant wretch was his limit.
The worst part was that Quincy had been planning Alan's abduction. He had it all planned out, he was going to hold the brat for ransom and use the money to retire away in paradise somewhere. He had been pulling money out of his bank account bit by bit over the course of the last few months, and finally withdrew it all then used his meager life savings to pay cash for a crappy hideaway hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere to stash the kid while he waited for the money to come through, then he was going to kill him when he got the money just so that he could finally make Jefferson Tracy suffer. He had been covering his tracks and putting everything in place.
But the whole plan was worthless if he didn't have the kid. He had to think of something.
He had a source, it wasn't a particularly helpful source, but he served his purpose once in a while. Quincy would call him to tell him when any of the Tracys were in town, the man was a photographer looking to make a quick buck off of the Tracy's fame. It was how he got the pictures of the other two Tracy sons to threaten the little weasel with. He had told the kid that his associate was a professional assassin. The little lie had served to make the kid especially unresistant. He could give the photographer a quick call, tell him that Tracy was at Wharton's, and have him followed to whatever 5 Star Hotel the man was staying at.
Back in New York Alan was overwhelmed and mentally exhausted. Therapy had been okay, he supposed. Group therapy was a strange experience for him. It was a bunch of kids his age just sitting in a huge circle. Each day there would be a different prompt. Today the prompt was about changing thought patterns. The counselor had called it Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. Each participant was supposed to identify a negative thought that they had. Once they identified it they had to map out whether it was a reality or whether it was a cognitive distortion. Once identified, they also had to think of other thoughts that could have been realities. The example was "I made a mistake at school in front of the whole class, now everybody in the class is laughing at me in their heads." The reality was that a mistake was made. But the thought distortion was that everybody was laughing in their heads. That can't be known, and it is actually pretty unlikely. The other options are that a couple people may have laughed, but most people probably didn't care and even if they did it will be forgotten soon. Alan thought the exercise was dumb at first. A lot of the kids thought so. But they mostly all participated when it came to be their turn. Alan paid attention to each person, he found that some of what they said was close to what he experienced. If those were destructive and false thinking problems, then maybe his own were as well.
Alan had this problem that whenever he spent time with his family he had a really good time. He knew they loved him. But as soon as he was alone he felt as though he was a burden and a failure and they only spent time with him because they had an obligation to the family to do so. And so that's what he thought he boiled down to, a burdensome obligation. He used that as his example. The counselor and the group worked with him on it. They said that the alternative option was that his family didn't see him as a burden at all and they actually liked spending time with him. Alan understood the concept in cognitive behavioral therapy, but he couldn't help but think that the negative feelings weren't always untrue. Somewhere in the world somebody really was a burden to their family and the positive thought process was untrue. Alan was convinced that the somebody somewhere was himself. The counselor gave them family homework to think through ten of these negative thoughts and map out the positive alternatives before family counseling that week (family counseling happened on Thursdays for half the students and Fridays for the other half of the students, Alan's family time slot came at the last hour of the day on Fridays).
Alan wasn't sure he wanted to or even could mentally get through ten of these; he was still morosely stuck on the one he brought up in group today (if he was honest, it was the most painful thought pattern in his life, that he was a burden to his family). And even if he was able to work through them, he wasn't sure he was ready to share them with his family. He supposed he could work through ten fairly innocuous thoughts that bothered him only a little and he wouldn't be embarrassed to share with his dad and brothers. One of the strictest rules of any of the therapy sessions whether it was individual, family, or group was that what was said during the session didn't leave the session unless the patient specifically said it was okay. Alan knew they wouldn't bring up the fact that he thought he was a burden to his family unless he specifically said it was okay to talk about during family counseling. But then he DID have to think of ten other thoughts to map through with cognitive behavioral therapy that he found safe to share.
Alan was glad to see John's face through the window at 3:00 that afternoon. He felt completely drained of all energy. When John asked him how his first day was all he could do was helplessly shrug. Thankfully it was John who had picked him up, because John always seemed to understand these things.
"Let's get you home then. Dad won't be back until about 5, you can have some rest before dinner. How does that sound?"
Alan breathed a sigh of relief, "Nothing in the world could sound better right now!"