Consequences
by Spense
Chapter Five
Alan paused in the hallway at the raised voices coming from his father's study.
" . . . he's too young!" Scott's voice was raised in anger. "Plus he's spoiled rotten and completely unreliable."
His father answered, saying something Alan didn't catch. He didn't need to. He'd heard enough.
Stomach turning, he turned on his heel and retreated outside to the private beach he considered 'his', deciding he rather skip dinner that night. His stomach didn't want the food, and he sure didn't want the company of his family.
'Spoiled rotten and completely unreliable.' The words echoed in his head.
'See, you were right. That's exactly what they think of you,' his thoughts whispered to him.
Alan put his head in his hands. He knew what had sparked that comment. The rescue that afternoon. He had been working crowd control, along with Fermat and TinTin. It was a wreck at a race track. One of the cars had caused a massive collision and had gone up into the stands. The panic had caused even more injuries. He and the other two teenagers were supposed to keep the onlookers back out of the way.
Alan had gotten distracted as he'd looked at one of the cars. He'd always been interested in race cars, and this one really caught his attention. A panicked woman had broken through the line past him, trying to find her husband, followed by two others before he'd gotten his mind back on business.
Scott had been furious, and had dressed him down right then and there. It was all Alan could do to not yell back. He'd actually opened his mouth to say something, but Scott had cut him off, telling him that he was field commander and Alan needed to keep his trap shut and do his job.
'Talk to you anytime, huh, Scott,' Alan thought, furiously. 'Yeah right'.
Alan sighed heavily and looked up at the waves. He'd been at fault and he knew it. But Scott would never had humiliated any of the others in public that way. Nope, Alan was always it. And he was tired of it. There just seemed no way out, and he was beginning to get desperate.
TB TB TB TB TB
"Okay Scott, that's enough," Jeff broke his older son off with a sigh. He gazed at him for a moment. "I know it was an issue today, but Alan's just young. As for spoiled - well maybe. But no more than the rest of you. You just have forgotten what it's like to be a teenager. And you were an adult when you began with IR. Remember, Gordon had the same kind of concentration problems when he started," Jeff pointed out.
Scott just stood, arms crossed, face glowering, defiant.
"Right?" Jeff demanded.
"Right," Scott snapped, not relaxing one iota.
"Okay, what's really the problem?" Jeff asked sharply. "I already have one son refusing to communicate with me, I really don't need another," he finished, clearly irritated.
Scott looked startled, then defeated. He slunk down in a chair opposite Jeff and put his head in his hands dejectedly. A muffled "sorry" echoed from the depths, followed by a long moment of silence. Finally Scott looked up and met his father's eyes.
"I'm worried about him."
'Well, join the club,' Jeff thought darkly before he continued aloud. "So am I."
"You should have seen him today Dad. He was furious with me, then he just shut off. I've never seen anything like it. It's like he's given up."
He met his father's eyes. Jeff could see the concern. "Virgil and Gordon see it too. They're worried sick as well. Virgil made the comment that he can't seem to engage Alan in anything anymore. It's like Alan's just going through the motions."
"I know," Jeff sighed.
"What's happening, Dad?" Scott asked.
Jeff was shaken. Scott was always in control. That's why he was field commander. To see him at such a loss was alarming.
"I don't know. I really don't know." Jeff said, as much at a loss as was his eldest son.
TB TB TB TB TB
Alan's head was pounding by the time he slowly climbed the stairs back to the villa. It was twilight, and he'd come to no conclusions out on the rocks. No solution was presenting itself. He was beginning to feel frantic about it. He just didn't know what to do.
One thing though, he was going to get something for this headache. He swung by the infirmary to get some aspirin. The place was empty, as was normal when nobody needed it.
Alan's nose wrinkled a little at the sharp odor of antiseptic. He never liked it in here, and spent as little time as possible. A hangover from the days following Gordon's hydrofoil accident. He'd spent hours on end here with Gordon, at that time, helping him deal with the pain and get through the aftermath. He'd never been comfortable in here since.
Opening the door of the glass fronted drug cabinet, Alan grabbed a bottle of aspirin, then stopped, bottle in hand. He stared at all of the medication in the cabinet. Rows of it. Pain pills, sedatives, strong narcotics, anti-biotics. They began to whisper to him, softly. 'I can offer peace,' they told him. Alan felt mesmerized.
One valium sure would take the edge off, he thought in spite of himself. 'A whole bottle would do more,' his mind told him. Alan closed his eyes, in turmoil once more.
"Alan!"
Virgil's voice broke the spell, and he swung round to look at him. "What?"
Virgil was looking at him strangely. "What do you need, Alan? Is everything okay?"
"Sure, fine. I've got a headache and I needed some aspirin."
"Okay," Virgil said, nodding slowly.
They stared at each other for a moment.
"What are you doing here?" Alan finally asked.
"I wanted to use the microscope. Brains is monopolizing the one in the lab."
"Oh," was all Alan could think of to say in reply. He turned back to the aspirin bottle he was holding, opened it, shook two pills out and replaced the bottle in the cabinet. Pouring a glass of water, he tossed the pills in his mouth, took a mouthful of water and washed them down as Virgil reached over him and shut the cabinet.
As Alan turned to go, Virgil called behind him, "Are you sure you're okay, Alan?"
Alan turned, and just said, "Fine," and left, feeling Virgil watching him as he left the room and headed down the hallway.
TB TB TB TB TB
Alan tossed and turned well into the night. He just couldn't sleep. The memory of Scott bawling him out on the track just replayed in his mind. He'd begin to drop off, and instead of chewing him out, Scott would be saying, "Your useless. I wish you'd never been born. All we have to do is baby-sit you."
Alan would wake up in a sweat. Finally, at two in the morning, he gave in and headed down to the infirmary. One valium wouldn't do any harm. Maybe he'd be able to finally get some sleep.
He padded across the dim room, the only light coming from the open shutters. The dim moonlight bathed the room in a pale glow, offering only enough light to make sure he didn't run into anything.
Alan reached for the medicine cabinet, but stopped as a bright green glow caught his attention. It was a keypad. On the glass fronted medicine cupboard. Alan tried the door. Locked. Locked with a keypad lock.
He stared at it a moment, then grimaced. Virgil. Had to be. Geez, they really didn't trust him, did they?
A part of his mind answered, 'well, you're here for valium, aren't you?'. Yeah, he was. But for one. To help him sleep.
Disillusioned, he stared at the lock once more, then turned back to his room. Going back to bed, he stared at the ceiling until morning. There was no peace to be had.
TB TB TB TB TB
Breakfast was no different than any other morning. No mention was made of the lock on the medicine cabinet, and Alan didn't allude to it either.
The table was full of food, and the normal chatter that went with a Tracy family meal. Plans for the day, discussion of machines needing servicing, a rough schedule for everybody. And talk about International Rescue and the Thunderbirds. Always that. Sometimes Alan wondered if anybody had any other real interests.
Alan, as was his habit of late, just ate quietly, not contributing much to the conversation. Nobody ever listened to anything he said anyway.
Finally, as the chairs were all scraping back, and plates were being cleared, Jeff got Alan's attention and motioned for him to follow. Alan did so without a word.
Up in the office, Alan was silent as he sat down in front of his father's desk. Jeff looked somewhat ill at ease.
"Alan," he said finally. "I'm suspending your Thunderbird training."
Alan just looked solemnly at him, not saying a word. What was there to say? After yesterday, it was no real surprise. What Scott wanted, Scott usually got. That was the way of it in this house. Scott thought he shouldn't be a part of IR, then Alan wouldn't be a part of IR. It wasn't like it mattered much anyway.
The silence built.
"Don't you want to know why?" Jeff asked finally.
Alan shrugged, and allowed the silence to build awhile again. "It doesn't really matter," he said finally.
Jeff was surprised. He waited for his son to say more. Years of experience in the boardroom had taught him that silence is usually filled, so you waited until the other person spoke in order to break the barrier.
Alan didn't have years of experience. And although he'd gotten very good at keeping quiet, he was still no match for his father in these types of games in power and persuasion. He finally added, almost inadvertently, "I'm not sure I really want to be a part of it anyway." He clamped his mouth shut after that, surprised at himself for saying even that. He wouldn't be baited again.
Jeff looked shocked. This was not the way he had thought this conversation would go. Alan's dream for years had been to be part of International Rescue. This was new.
"When did you decide this?" he asked carefully, looking at his stone-faced son in front of him. He didn't know this boy anymore, and that frightened him.
Alan just shrugged. "It doesn't really matter," he repeated.
"Yes, it does matter, Alan. It matters to me. When did you decide?" He repeated.
Alan just shrugged again.
The silence dragged on, weighing both of them down, but this time, it wasn't Alan who budged. Jeff's growing panic at his son's behavior made him crack.
"Alan, please talk to me," Jeff pleaded. "I don't know what's happening with you anymore. I'm worried."
"Don't be," Alan said, getting up. "I'm fine. May I be excused?"
Jeff looked like he'd like to refuse, but he really didn't know what else to say.
"All right," he finally said, with regret clear on his face.
Jeff stared after him long after Alan had vanished from sight.
A tap on the door frame startled him. Scott and Virgil were looking in.
"Well, how did it go?" Virgil asked cautiously.
Jeff waved them in. "About the same as everything else lately. Alan just clammed up. He did mention however, that he had been thinking that he didn't want to be part of IR anyway."
"Did you believe him?" Scott asked.
"I don't know. I'd like to believe that it was just reaction to telling him he was off training for awhile, but I don't know. That would be a normal reaction, and Alan's doing anything but reacting normally right now." Jeff grimaced. "I was really hoping that this would start a dialogue. I'm really worried about him, and I just can't trust his stability out on a rescue right now, or in control of one of the birds, for that matter."
"Did he . . . did he ask about the lock on the drug cabinet?" Virgil asked worriedly. "I mean, that may have been overkill, but I don't know . . ." He trailed off uncertainly.
"Virgil, you did the right thing," Jeff tried to reassure his son. Virgil had been so shaken by his encounter with Alan in the infirmary, that he'd installed the lock right then, and told Jeff about it later. "I would have done the same thing myself. We just don't know what's happening in Alan's head right now. And no, he didn't mention it."
"Okay," Virgil said, still not convinced. "I just hate to believe that . . ." he trailed off again.
"I know. We all do," Jeff replied. "But that instability and doubt is why I just can't have him operating any of the Thunderbirds or involved in any rescues right now."
Virgil breathed deep. "I know." He paused, then continued quietly. "Well, okay then. I'm going to go work on TB2. She's feeling sluggish on the port side." And with that, he left.
Scott looked after him for a second, made sure he was gone, then turned back to his father. "That incident in the infirmary really upset Virgil, Dad," Scott commented, unconsciously echoing Jeff's earlier thoughts. "He told me that Alan just looked bleak, and he was studying the labels pretty carefully. He really thought that he might be suicidal. He was scared to death about what might have happened if he hadn't just happened to need a microscope right at that moment."
Jeff's expression was also bleak. "I know. And that worries me too. I just can't reach him," he finished in frustration. "Heaven knows I've tried!"
"Gordon's been keeping a pretty close eye on him too. Did you know that he watches Alan from the Round House through Johnny's telescope when the kid goes running?"
"No," Jeff said surprised, "I didn't."
Scott continued. "Yep. And I know Kyrano likes to have Alan working in the garden where he can keep an eye on him. He told me so."
Jeff nodded his understanding. "Thanks for telling me Scott. Now if you don't mind, I need to do some thinking. Close the door on your way out?"
"Sure, Dad," Scott smiled, understanding. "Will do."
After Scott left the room, Jeff put his head in his hands, thinking hard. Finally, he came to a decision, and picked up the phone, his resolve hardened like steel. He was not going to lose his son.
He spent the majority of that day on the phone.
TB TB TB TB TB
Alan was grateful to not have Thunderbird training. Going into his room, he changed into his running clothes. Splashing in the pool caught his attention. Going to the open window, he could see Gordon, TinTin, and Fermat playing water volleyball. The splashing and laughter made him feel more cut off than ever. He closed his eyes in pain for a moment.
Going to his dresser, he looked at the Thunderbird pin sitting there in the place of honor. He remembered how he felt when he'd gotten it. All the hope and promise. What a crock!
With a vindictive movement, he swept it off the top of the dresser and into the wastepaper basket, then without a backward look, left the room.