By Spense
Chapter Six
Alan sat beside his father in Jeff's large Mercedes sedan. Jeff had announced the morning following his removal of Alan from training that he needed to go to New York for a business meeting. He also indicated that he wanted Alan to come with him. Alan had had another growth spurt and needed more clothes. This was as good a time as any, besides they could spend sometime together for a change.
Normally Alan would have jumped at the chance to spend a couple of days alone with his father. Time was a precious commodity given the large family, Tracy Enterprises, IR and Alan's schooling.
But now Alan knew how they all felt about him, so he was no longer thrilled. It was just easier to go with the flow that to try to argue about it.
He managed to isolate himself on the flight to New York by wearing his i-Pod most of the time. When Jeff indicated that he had a meeting out of town, and that they could go to lunch on the river, Alan just shrugged and went along with it, using the i-Pod once again to cut himself off.
He may have no choice in being physically present, but he sure could be mentally absent.
It wasn't until they drove up to the gates which said 'Coastland Clinic', that Alan realized something more may be going on. He slowly took off his i-pod headphones and sat up. The gates opened slowly as Jeff announced his name to the speaker.
As the car wound up the smoothly curving driveway through the lush green, tree-filled lawn, Alan looked suspiciously with narrowed eyes at his father.
Jeff stared straight ahead as he drove, the tightness in his jaw the only visible sign of his tension.
Pulling under the portico, Jeff stopped the car, turned off the engine and turned to his son. "Alan . . ."
Alan didn't listen, he just got out of the car.
Jeff trailed off with a sigh as he noted his son studiously ignoring him.
A man and a woman came out to greet them. Alan ignored them as well as he looked out over the grounds. The house was an elegant mansion with a river stone portico and trim. He could catch a glimpse of the ocean through the trees, and could see kids here and there on the grounds.
"Mr. Tracy," the woman said with a smile. She wore khakis and a polo shirt, with a white lab coat. "I'm Dr. Taylor." She held out her hand to Jeff.
Alan ignored her completely as he took in the scene. The man, wearing the same khakis and a polo shirt with the clinic's name embroidered on it, but without the lab coat, opened the trunk of the car and began to unload Alan's suitcase. He looked at it with an ironic snort. 'Figured', he thought. Why wasn't he surprised? He should have known. That was his Dad's standard operating procedure when it came to Alan. Send him away. As usual.
"Hello Alan," the woman said cheerfully, ignoring Alan's studied silence.
"Come with me," she said and gestured into the stately old building. Alan moved as his father showed no signs of moving until he did. Again, it figured; making sure he wasn't going to bolt.
They made their was up a curving staircase, stained in light oak, with light white walls. The feeling was that of brightness and light.
As they entered an office on the second floor, a man in the same khakis and polo shirt but with a lab coat over it stood up from behind the desk with a smile.
"Mr. Tracy. I'm Dr. Masonn. We spoke on the phone." He held out his hand to Jeff, who took it, smiling.
Alan looked on wryly. Well, as usual, he was the odd man out.
"And you must be Alan," Dr. Masonn said with a big smile. He held his hand out.
Alan took it without saying a word, or changing expression.
He continued seemingly without noticing Alan's rudeness, but Alan could see that wasn't the case. That man's eyes noticed everything.
"Your father has asked for our help, Alan. And that's what we do here. Give some space and some assistance to parents and kids who are having trouble. We give you a safe place to stay, a time out so to speak for the issues in your life, and somebody to talk to."
Alan took it all in stonily. It was about what he'd expected. His father was dumping his problems off on somebody else again. And that problem was usually Alan. He'd spent more time away from home in the last several years than he'd spent at home.
"You'll have a phone in your room. It will connect you with anyplace on the grounds, and will have a dedicated line directly to your father. You can speak with him anytime you'd like," Dr. Taylor said with a winning smile, as though this was a great selling point. "Any other calls will have to go through me or Dr. Mason.
Great. So he could talk to the one person he never wanted to speak with anytime he wanted, but not to anybody else. Well, that sucked.
"Alan, I'm sorry, but we need help. I just can't reach you anymore," Jeff said desperately. He felt so guilty, and at such a loss as he looked at his son's expressionless face. He just didn't know what to do anymore. "I just want you to be happy. But you aren't, and I don't know what to do to help you. I'm worried about you." Jeff's anguish was palpable.
At that moment a door opened onto the tense little scene, and another young man, in the same khakis and polo shirt uniform entered. "Hi Alan. I'm Mike. I'll take you to your room."
Alan turned wordlessly to follow.
"Alan, please," Jeff pleaded, putting a hand on his son's shoulder as he stepped forward to hug him.
Alan adroitly step sided his father, forcing him to drop his hand, as he turned back to face him. He looked silently at him for a second, then uttered with a quiet intensity that was horrifying, "I hate you."
Jeff swallowed hard. The intensity of those words were made more powerful by the unemotional tone. He watched as his son exited the room, following Mike obediently, who closed the door after them.
"It will be okay, Mr. Tracy," Dr. Masonn's voice said compassionately as Jeff stared blindly at the closed door.
Jeff felt as if his world had ended.
He turned unseeingly back towards the desk. Sinking into a big leather chair in front of it, he buried his face in his hands, saying softly, "Will it? I don't think so."
Dr. Taylor put her hand on his shoulder as she sat down in the chair next to him as Dr. Masonn sat down again in his desk chair.
"Oh, it will get better. This is the hardest. Alan's just upset. Being blindsided like this is the best way, but it isn't the easiest. You're doing the right thing."
Jeff sighed deeply and straightened up, leaning tiredly against the back of the chair.
"I've never had to do anything like this with any of my sons. But I'm so worried about Alan. I kept thinking I'd wake up one morning and find he'd overdosed or slit his wrists or some other thing."
"It's a worry. But we'll take care of him here, and get to the bottom of the issues," Dr. Masonn commented. "He won't be able to harm himself here."
"What have I done wrong?" Jeff wondered aloud.
"Probably nothing," Dr. Taylor answered briskly. "Kids today have so many issues to deal with. And the youngest of five is difficult. Made more so by all of you being so lauded." She smiled. "It's part of growing up. He'll be fine. We'll send you videos of each session. And you know you can log in and check on him online."
"Yes," Jeff said relieved. It was one reason he'd chosen this place. He would have access. "When can I come see him again?"
"We'll let you know. As we talked about, you'll be integrally involved. But we need to let him calm down and relax first. He needs some time to decompress."
"Okay. Let me know," Jeff begged. It was uncharactistic of him, but when it came to his sons, he'd do anything.
"Of course."
TB TB TB TB TB
Alan looked around the room he had been left in. It was a bright room, a cheerful light blue, with light oak furniture. There was a double bed, a night stand, desk and chair, a book case with some reading material (carefully chosen he was sure), an armoire and an arm chair.
There was a large picture window with a window seat opening out the back of the house, looking over the wide lawn and the river. Alan opened the window and looked out on the lawn.. It was huge. There was a volleyball net and a croquet course set up, as well as Adirondack chairs dotting the expanse. There were kids of varying ages involved in various activities from reading to playing a pick up game of baseball. He also noticed a large number of people in matching khakis and polo shirts. Staff, apparently.
'Home sweet home', Alan thought sarcastically. 'Yippee'.
Mike had told him that he had the run of the place. Resident rooms (Alan noticed that he was referred to as a 'resident', not a 'patient'. Yeah right) were scattered among the first and second floor, as well as the doctor's offices. The dining room, library, TV room and game room were all on the first floor. The third floor was off limits to the residents, this fact enforced by keypad locks. Mike had told him that this was the infirmary, labs, and other offices. He was welcome to go anywhere on the grounds, and the first and second floor public rooms.
Alan noticed Mike hadn't said anything about leaving the grounds. And Alan had seen the gate and the high wall when he'd arrived. So really Mike hadn't needed too. Essentially, Alan was in prison.
Finally, he turned back to the room, and began to wander around, exploring half-heartedly. Checking in the armoire, he noticed that all of his things were unpacked. He also noticed that he had no belts and nothing sharp. He snorted. So they were afraid he might harm himself.
The bookcase did hold some interesting reading material, though. And it held a stash of Ohana's brownies, chocolate chip cookies and granola bars, along with a note from her letting him know that she'd send more periodically. Apparently that was permitted, since the note was still present. He grabbed a cookie and a granola bar and munching, continued exploring.
He meandered over to the nightstand where he found a framed picture set up on the small table. It was a family portrait of all six of them, taken last Christmas. Looking at the smiling faces, Alan felt a stir of hot anger run through him. In a violent motion, he opened the drawer of the little table, swept the picture into it, face down, and slammed it shut. They were the last people he wanted to see.
Alan left the room without looking back.
TB TB TB TB TB
"Well, how did it go?" Scott demanded of his father through the vidphone.
They were linked in a conference call from the New York apartment, Thunderbird Five and Jeff's office in Tracy Island.
"Not very well," Jeff admitted, clearly shaken.
"Dad?" John asked carefully.
Jeff closed his eyes, clearly in pain. When he opened them, he continued. "He told me he hated me."
Virgil caught his breath.
"Well, that's something, isn't it?" Gordon said hopefully. "I mean, at least he showed some emotion."
"No Gordon, he didn't. And that just made it worse. He was just stating a fact."
"Dear lord," Scott muttered.
"But they won't let him harm himself, right?" Virgil said, clearly worried. The incident in the infirmary was clearly still weighing heavily on his mind.
"No, Virgil," Jeff said wearily, "They won't. And that's one thing we can be grateful for."
"Thank goodness for small favors," John commented sarcastically.
All eyes swung towards him, astonished at the bitter tone in the normally mild tempered man.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Don't be," Scott said. "We all feel the same way." He looked back at his father. "Dad, do you think this will work?"
"It has to, Scott. I just don't know what else to do. But at least he's safe from himself there."