Scott nodded in understanding as the doctor kindly informed him of what had caused his kid brother to blow up to such epic proportions. Dr. Warner felt Alan still wasn't handling the aftermath of the fire well and while Scott could agree, he couldn't see forcing Alan back in to see a therapist if the kid didn't want to. Like Alan had begged them a while back, he just wanted a little bit of independence back. He wanted to feel normal.
"I'll talk to Alan when he wakes up, see if he'll talk to me about what he's feeling. I know some of what he's going through. PTSD isn't new to me, I had it for a week after there was an attack at the base I was stationed at overseas." Scott said as he crossed his legs, while playing with the hem of his scrub pants.
"Your brother was fighting every effort we made to calm him down." Dr. Warner started to say.
"I said I'll talk to him. There's nothing I can do when he's sleeping." Scott said before the doctor left whilst shaking his head. "I'm not going to wake him up just to reprimand him, he's always cranky when he's woken up before he's ready. Always has been."
Picking up his computer, Scott called Gordon so they could talk about how best to handle their brother. Both of them had a taste of PTSD from things that had happened while working for IR and they also had been in the military, so they were familiar with physical trauma related PTSD.
TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB
John sighed and shook his head as he entered the family cemetery plot armed with a blanket.
"Are you trying to kill yourself with pneumonia? Because if you are you're doing a pretty damn good job." John asked snappishly as he approached Virgil and placed the blanket over his hunched but shivering frame.
"Hey John." Virgil replied softly.
"Don't 'hey' me. You're a big boy, you should know not to risk getting yourself sick. You dummy." John said as he sat beside Virgil on the cold ground. "Dad and grandma are asking where you are. I told them you wanted to be alone."
"I needed to talk to mom." Virgil responded.
"You know if you're going out in this weather it'd be wise to wear more than a light sweater." John said as he saw Virgil shake a little harder. Stripping from his warm jacket, John put that over Virgil's frame in addition to the blanket. "How could your little talk with mom be more important than your health?"
"I wasn't cold when I left." Virgil said as he turned his head to look at his older brother.
"Think with your head numbskull, just because you were cozy when you left doesn't mean you wouldn't get cold as you go along. If anything that could be more dangerous. We have enough to worry about right now Virgil and we don't need to add 'Virgil sick on his deathbed with pneumonia' to the list." John admonished.
"I'm sorry! I just needed to talk to mom and I wasn't thinking." Virgil begged as he understood the chewing out he was getting.
"Did mom help you with whatever you needed to work through?" John asked, lightly changing the subject so Virgil would know he wasn't mad.
"She was as silent as the wind…but she listened and let me vent." Virgil admitted.
"I have a feeling that if she were here, she'd be trying to make us understand that what happened to Alan wasn't our fault." John said as he thought about it. "She'd probably be trying to help Alan get better sooner.
"Do you think that if mom were still alive, we'd never have put Alan in a private school?" Virgil asked.
"No, I think they'd still have put us in a private school…I think the only difference would have been that it'd have been a private school close by so we could have gone home on the weekends. I mean mom was in a private school."
"She was in a private co-ed Christian school, that's different from a private all boys' school." Virgil argued. "I just wish dad had listened to Alan when he said he didn't want to go…maybe he wouldn't have gotten so hurt."
"Well you can wish in one hand and spit in the other, see which one fills up faster." John said before he reached across and pulled Virgil into his side. "You can wish all you want but regardless, Alan would have been hurt at some point."
"I just wish he was never hurt at all. I like having him around the island for the most part. He's a good sport when I want to use him as a subject to draw or when I want him to sit and listen to a song I wrote. I just wish dad didn't see Alan as being underfoot or a burden to be dealt with." Virgil said as he propped his elbows on his knees and let his hands cradle his head.
"Hey, that's not true and you know it." John argued. "Dad doesn't see Alan as that at all. He just wants for us that he never had. A sturdy education that can't come from public or homeschooling."
"Don't tell me that seeing dad send Alan to a private school when he was younger than we were didn't make you feel like he was taking valuable time from not only Alan but us and himself. We missed so much of Alan's life because of private schooling and we almost lost Alan altogether." Virgil said.
John sighed in anger but he chewed lightly on his lip as he thought before speaking. "I'll admit, seeing Alan be sent to a boarding school before he went into high school didn't make me very happy…but think about what we were doing. We were working on IR, practice runs, security perimeters, and we were practically in boot camp to train us for real life events. Alan was being homeschooled remember? He spent more time doodling on his homework than he did completing his studies and he just in general wasn't focused. Dad put him in a private school to ensure Alan didn't throw away his education."
"So rather than throw away his education, it was better to almost throw away Alan's life?" Virgil asked in a fit of overprotective brotherly rage.
"Don't go putting words in my mouth Virge. That wasn't what I meant at all." John countered.
"If dad didn't want Alan to throw away his education, why didn't he just send Alan back to come live with grandma? Grandma lives an hour away from the closest private boarding school, Alan could have returned on the weekends and stayed with grandma. Why did he have to be put in the school with that hellion and in Massachusetts? Why so far away?"
"Honestly? That was my doing. Dad told me he wanted to put Alan in a private school for troubled youth before military school and I talked dad out of it. I had a friend of a friend who worked at Wharton's and when I mentioned to him that my little brother had been expelled because of something that wasn't his fault – the guy sent me a form and pamphlets about the school. It seemed perfect. And it was, or so it seemed. At least until Alan was hurt."
"That still doesn't explain why dad didn't put Alan in a boarding school close to grandma. I mean if you were able to convince dad to put Alan in a school on the other side of the United States why couldn't dad have been convinced to put Alan in a school close to Grandma?" Virgil inquired, truly desiring answers.
"Because when I tried it, dad said he felt like Alan should prove his independence since he kept telling dad to give him a chance. Dad was given a chance to put Alan in an environment where he had nobody but himself to rely on." John answered.
"So did dad's plan work?" Virgil asked loathingly. He hated finding this out now, after the fact. If he'd known this, he'd have told dad that he'd stay on the mainland as Alan's guardian and see that he finished school. Hell, Virgil might have even asked for a teaching position at Wharton's so he could keep an eye on his brother, heaven knew he was better than decent when it came to teaching someone how to wield a paintbrush or play the piano.
"Yes, it did. Alan forged his own path, he gained popularity – excelled better than we'd ever imagined in sports and he actually was doing surprisingly well in his classes. He has shown independence, the kind of independence he's craved for years." John said. "I know it doesn't seem right but Alan needed this."
"I hope you mean the independence, not the insult added to injury." Virgil argued.
"Of course I meant the independence. Alan needed to show that he could hold his own." John advised before he looked towards the sky where the sun was beginning to set and the sky dim as the sunlight faded. "He effectively proved he has what it takes and now that he's done that, dad's finally agreed to let Alan homeschool if he so desires."
"But why did it require all of this? Was it not enough that Alan had tried for so long to prove his worth to dad?" Virgil inquired sadly.
"No, it was. But I think dad and Alan just needed the distance to bring things into perspective. Dad needed to see for himself that Alan is growing up and growing out, while Alan understands that dad won't be around forever – so he needs to get cracking and put his nose to the grindstone if he wants to excel like dad did."
"But didn't it occur to anyone that Alan is not like dad? He's his own person?" Virgil asked again.
"Yeah, but you know what…we're not making any headway here. I know it's hard to understand but Alan will be okay and we'll all come out of this no worse for wear." John stood up slowly before extending his hand to Virgil. "Come on, grandma should have supper finished by now. She'll be wondering where we are if we don't get going."
Virgil sighed before he accepted John's helping hand. Standing up, Virgil turned one last glance back to his mother's grave – whispering a soft thanks to his mom for listening to him.
When they got back to the house, Virgil stayed silent when it came to greeting his dad. He felt betrayed by his dad's decision to force Alan's independence, and more than anything he just wanted Alan better so they could be back at home. Virgil wanted to spend time catching up with Alan. He wanted to find out all the things he'd missed out on in Alan's life and not from pictures, but from his brother's very own mouth.
"Here you go dear, roasted chicken, green beans and mashed potatoes." Grandma Ruth said as she handed Virgil a plate of dinner. "Tuck in, all that restaurant food isn't doing you any favors." Ruth said as she gave a tug on Virgil's jeans and showing the artist just how baggy they were getting.
"Thanks grandma." Virgil said as he sat down to eat his meal. He purposefully ignored his father when he sat down with a glass of Grandma Ruth's sherry. He dug in to his meal and ate with a refined manner, despite being angry at his father. When he finished, he stood with his empty plate and took it to the kitchen to rinse. "I'm going to take a shower."
Jeff and Ruth looked at each other for a moment in confusion before Jeff turned to John who was playing with his mashed potatoes. "Alright, you know why your brother is mad…talk."
"I may or may not have answered questions he had about Alan's school, why he went to Wharton's and not a school closer to Grandma." John answered, knowing his dad couldn't get mad…irritated maybe, confused absolutely but never mad.
"And he's mad why? I thought he wanted Alan to go to Wharton's just like you and Scott thought he should after I got the information." Jeff inquired. He was under the assumption that all of his sons save for Alan were all for Alan attending Wharton's.
"He wasn't, not truly anyway. He was just saying what he thought you wanted to hear, primarily because usually once Scott gives his blessing you don't usually listen to reason." John admitted carefully.
"Come now, that's not true." Jeff argued.
"But it is." Ruth argued back in defense of John and Virgil. "Dear, you know as well as I do that I offered to house Alan once more so he could attend school the next town over. But you wouldn't hear of it. I don't understand why you insisted on sending Alan to a school so far from here that I couldn't oversee him and his care. I wouldn't have minded housing both Alan and Fermat, you know I think both boys are delightful.
"Mom, you know Alan needs to test out his own wings. He can't do that if he's coddled." Jeff said.
TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB
Robert sighed as he sat through one of the anger management classes the judge felt he needed to sit in on. The instructor was babbling on and on about how it was important to not only love yourself but to also love those around you no matter how much they irritated you. Robert would rather sit through bamboo nail torture than continue to sit and listen to this lovey dovey lets hold hands and tell each other our feelings yuppie.
"Next time you feel angered by something someone you know is doing, just take a step back from the situation take a breath and concentrate on calming your heart rate. After you do a couple of the deep breathing exercises I instructed you how to do earlier, you'll find that the anger lessens considerably. So much so that you will be able to reintroduce yourself back in the situation and handle the source of your irritation responsibly." The instructor said as he walked around the room, addressing several of his pupils. "Questions? Anyone?"
Robert had been listening, but he had begun to wonder why he'd done this to trash heap. Perhaps this all could have been avoided if Robert had just hung himself after the lunch room fiasco so many months ago like he'd desired. But no, he'd chosen instead to make that…'thing' suffer instead of himself. And now he wasn't questioning why he did it, no he was questioning why that child Trash Heap Tracy had to live. This was all his fault after all. Raising his hand, Robert smirked when he was called upon.
"Yes, Robert?" The instructor asked with a smile, happy his student was participating.
"So, what are we supposed to do if the source of our irritation is the fact that someone is alive and breathing? What then, because I'll be honest…the only reason I'm here is because I failed at extinguishing the source of my irritation." Robert asked with a smart aleck grin that had the instructor flapping his jaw like a fish brought on land. The rest of the students however were stunned into silence at Robert's admission. Which really brought things into perspective for them. Robert found this whole thing funny and that disgusted many of the students in attendance.
The class was not made up entirely of delinquents, it was made up of kids from ages twelve to eighteen and they were all there for one thing…to learn how to better control their emotional outburst. One student stood up in the class and he addressed Robert.
"Are you insane? Life is precious and it's not up to us to take life away. That's for God to decide." The boy said as he glared at Robert.
"In that school…if you can call it that. I was God." Robert said as he smirked at the older boy.
"You! You're that kid that hurt my friend!" The boy replied hotly.
"Oh so you know the little prick? How's he doing? No better I hope." Robert said calmly with a smirk which was quickly wiped off his face when the boy threw a sucker punch. "What the hell?!"
"There's more where that came from. Stay away from Alan, I mean it!" The boy seethed before grabbing his crutch and hobbling from the room.
TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB
Alan sighed as he stretched out along his mattress. He'd gotten a nap in and that was enough to make him feel less upset. Mary was right, he'd needed a nap and bandaging that wasn't attempting to amputate his legs. After being talked to by Mary and the much needed nap, Alan felt a little more pleasant.
"Alan?"
Alan looked up from where he was focusing on a stain on the floor. His eyes met those of Danny, the oldest boy in the group of kids that sat in the sun lounge to mingle. The older boy looked angry but Alan couldn't figure out why…then it occurred to him that Danny said he had to meet with his anger management counselor who was helping him control his angered outbursts when people stared at his wounds or teased him.
"Hey, what's up Danny?" Alan asked as he raised his head. Danny was pressing on the intercom button which allowed the two of them to talk and have a two way conversation.
"That pompous bastard was there at my management class and I'll have you know I punched his lights out for you." Danny said through gritted teeth before exhaling sharply. The incredulous look on Alan's face should have been enough to make Danny begin laughing, but that wasn't the case. Danny was trembling in rage.
"What?" Alan asked.
"I said, that pompous bastard was at my anger management class and I punched his lights out for you." Danny said as he gingerly rubbed his knuckles, backing up his statement to Alan about punching Robert. "It felt good."
"I can't believe you did that." Alan said as he shook his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose Alan sighed. "You know you're going to get in trouble."
"Actually, I'm not. I should have but after Robert said what he said. My teacher pulled me aside and told me he'd turn a blind eye to what I did because it was defense. And it's his words against mine. But my teacher has it documented that I'm always on my best behavior in the class while that Robert kid has it blemishing his record. I'm none too worried." Danny said as he raised his bruised fist to show to Alan like it was a trophy.
"Dare I ask what led to you punching Robert?" Alan asked with a small grin plastered on his face.
"He was mouthing off, asking if the anger management was supposed to help extinguish the source of your irritation when it was a breathing person. Or something like that." Danny said as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I stopped listening after Robert declared that in that school he was similar to God."
Alan's jaw dropped at that.
"He said that?" Alan asked in shock.
"Damn right he did. That's what pissed me off. My uncle raised me and my cousins to believe that there was no greater power than that of God and people shouldn't think of themselves so high and mighty that they are up there next to God." Danny said as he rested his head on the glass pane separating him and Alan. "I'd do it again too if given a chance…punch that Robert kid."
"Thank you." Alan said with a small shy smile.
"No problem dude. That's what friends are for." Danny said as he pulled away from the glass.
TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB
Elijah sighed forcefully as he pinched the bridge of his nose. This just wasn't making sense. Everything he'd done, the tests, talking to psychiatrists and trying to figure out a motive as to why and what would have led Robert to potentially start the fire. He'd talked to Robert's mother and father – talked to the people he called friends, talked to Robert's sister as well as Jamie and nobody really knew anything. The only thing that Elijah was able to consult had been a journal kept at Robert's mother's house.
'…if I can't have what he has then he can't have it.'
Elijah had read and re-read the journal from start to finish and it just seemed too weird. Elijah and the rest of the crew knew Robert had daddy abandonment issues, but reading what was written in the journal just seemed so surreal. Elijah flicked back a couple pages until he reached the beginning of the journal entry.
'Trash heap makes me sick. Today he gave a speech about how his daddy started his business all on his own and built it from the ground up. He smiled like the stuck up little snob that he is and boasted how his dad was amazing in his own right and how he was proud to be his son. Honestly if his dad was my dad, I'd know how to keep my mouth shut. I'd be grateful and count my damn blessings, not rub anybody who's not him in the dirt and stomp on them while their down.'
'I wish he'd die, he doesn't deserve what he's got.'
Elijah sighed as he sat back at his desk. Robert's journal entries weren't hard to decipher. He had grown jealous of Alan, his wealth, the love he had from his family, and just in general how popular Alan was naturally. But Elijah wondered if that was truly motive enough to want to kill Alan in addition to killing or at minimum maiming Fermat to prove that his family could essentially live without their two youngest members.
TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB
A light breeze blew through the twilight, gently ruffling the curtains that hung in the window of the guest room Virgil and John were inhabiting currently at their grandmother's house. John was still, inhaling softly – one arm bent under a pillow and squishing it into his face for optimum fluff cradling his head. His eyes remained still as he was no longer in REM sleep. His hair was slightly mussed to signify how quick he actually fell asleep.
Virgil on the other hand was currently tossing and turning. He was groaning in his sleep, frown and gritted teeth marring his features. Sweat was beading his forehead and his t-shirt had ridden up on his torso revealing a toned stomach from training for IR.
"Alan…"
Virgil opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself decked out in medical garb. A nurse walked up to him and with a serious look to her eyes spoke.
'The patient is ready for you doctor. We need to get you scrubbed in for surgery."
Virgil nodded mutely when another nurse led him to the scrub sink and he proceeded to scrub like he'd been taught in med school. He scrubbed up to his elbows and once he'd gone through the ABC's twice in his head, Virgil rinsed the suds from his hands and arms.
He dried his hands quickly before a nurse helped him into a pair of gloves. He was soon outfitted with a gown over his scrubs and had a second pair of gloves put on, these up to his elbows. A skull surgical cap and mask were fitted over his face and hair.
"The anesthetist already has the patient under. He's waiting for you doctor."
Virgil held his hands away from his body and used his back to push open the door. Walking in Virgil took a look at his surroundings. Sterile white room, bright light shining down on the patient who was lying on the table. Blinking slowly, Virgil tried not to think of the fact that someone's life was literally in his hands at present.
"Scalpel…"
Virgil groaned in his sleep, tossing over onto his stomach before flipping back on his back. The frame of the bed gave a creak and the box springs made an eerie squeak-squeak noise while Virgil tossed and turned in slumber.
"Surgery was finished successfully doctor." The nurse said as she led Virgil from the room, helping him to strip the blood covered gloves from his person as well as the gown. Virgil washed his hands at the sink a second time to make sure he had any bodily fluids that remained washed from his body.
"Have the patient taken to recovery five, and I'll check him in an hour." Virgil instructed before he reached up to take the head covering off to reveal sweaty hair. As he walked away he tried to make sense of it…him? Wasn't his patient a woman? Why would he call the patient a he and why did the nurse not correct him? Oh well, maybe she figured he was exhausted from the surgery and wasn't speaking clearly.
Before she left, Virgil stopped the nurse to ask the patient's name.
"The patient's name if Alan Tracy…"
Virgil shot up from his sleep, heaving breath after breath as he tried to regulate is breathing. He gave a small shiver when it occurred that the window had stayed open and Virgil crawled from bed to close the window. That dream was something else and it to be honest was unnerving. He hoped maybe the nurse in the dream saying that surgery was a success was true and not foreshadowing a bad event.
Reclaiming his seat on the mattress, Virgil sighed. The dream felt so real and that was enough to freak the middle Tracy out.
TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB
"Scalpel." Dr. Warner asked as he held his hand up to accept the instrument. He was focused on his young patient. Alan was lying on his stomach, getting grafts of his brother's donated skin applied to his back and lower thighs. A nurse stayed close to Alan, keeping watch on his respirations and in general making sure he was in fine health.
It'd be bad if something happened during surgery. Especially considering Scott and Gordon have both already been taken to recovery. Their responsibilities were followed and now they needed to heal, same as Alan.
"Suction…" Dr. Warner said as he pulled back to allow the surgical RN to suction the blood that was bubbling up from the debrided wound. Heaving a sigh Dr. Warner pulled back so the nurse could dab at the sweat beading his brow. He'd been in three different surgeries in the last six hours. Alan's surgery would be what would take the longest since he was trying to surgically attach the graft to Alan's open wounds to prompt cell regrowth. It was a meticulous and delicate surgery, one that couldn't be done quickly. Dr. Warner estimated in his head that Alan's surgery would be two more hours at the earliest.
He glanced briefly up at the clock and saw that the predicted three hour mark had passed already and he was going on his fifth hour. He breathed slowly when the in surgery phone rang.
"Someone answer the phone please." Dr. Warner said as he got back in the zone to complete surgery for his young patient. Alan would be waking soon and Dr. Warner didn't want the lad to awaken in surgery. That wouldn't be pleasant for anyone involved.
Hearing a soft murmur at the back wall, Dr. Warner glanced over his shoulder at the nurse on the phone. The nurse looked up with a question in her eyes.
"The family is wanting to know what's taking so long?" The nurse inquired.
"We're almost finished. One of the burns went deeper than was expected." Dr. Warner replied as he held his hand up before making his request. "Sutures."
The nurse answered the questions thrown her way before she hung up and joined the group.
"Almost finished…" Dr. Warner muttered as he tied off one of the last stitches that was holding one of the more fragile grafts to the delicate surgical site. "Done…let's get him cleaned up and taken to recovery."
TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB
Alan groaned as he woke up. His head felt heavy and his mouth felt drier than a popcorn fart in late July. And man was he sore? He felt like he'd been hit by a Mac truck, maybe he had been? He turned his head and looked around the room. It was dim, the sun was obviously shining outside and they'd closed the curtains so Alan could sleep.
Inchworming his fingers up the bed Alan pressed the call button on the remote that lay in his bed with him. He didn't feel like doing much right now. He closed his eyes and the next time he opened his eyes his nurse Karen was sitting perched in a chair by his bed.
"Good afternoon Alan, how you feeling?" Karen asked softly.
"M' thirsty…" Alan muttered as he smacked his lips. He extended his arm in hopes of reaching the glistening glass on his bedside table. Karen saw what he was reaching for and she grabbed the glass for Alan and lowered the straw for him. Alan drained the glass in a matter of quick slurps and soon Alan was gazing longingly at the empty glass. "C'n I have more?"
"Yes honey, one moment." Karen said as she refilled Alan's glass and let him drink to his heart's content. When he'd had his fill Alan smiled weakly at the nurse. "Still pretty sleepy?"
"Mm-hmm. How long?" Alan inquired as he desired to know just how long he'd slept already.
"You've been out for a little over twelve hours now." Karen said as she gently brushed Alan's hair from his eyes with a fond smile. The look on Alan's face was enough to make Karen smile.
"You mean…?" Alan asked as his eyes grew in diameter.
"Yep, your grafts took." Karen said as she smiled brightly at Alan. Karen blinked rapidly to fend off any tears at the look of extreme happiness on Alan's face. It was about time she was blessed with Alan's true smile. "Now all there's left to do is heal."
Propping himself up on his elbows, despite the pain Alan reached out and latched an arm around Karen's waist – drawing her into a tight hug. Alan couldn't be happier if he tried.
A/N: Hey it's me again, hope ya'll enjoyed? Now that Alan's surgeries are finished we can finally begin the real work - recovering from the trauma of the fire. I actually have had some major brother bonding time planned between Alan and one certain brother who i won't name because I think I want ya'll to try to guess what I have in mind. If anyone wants to see something specific, just leave it in the comments section or PM me - I'd greatly appreciate it (me and my writer's blocked/depressed brain).
Please no flames! I will not tolerate anyone not providing constructive criticism - anything that is rude or unkind will be deleted.
Thank you!
Sad-Blue-Eyed-Angel 2010