My thanks to everyone who reviewed! A little note before this chapter: although I initially intended for this story to be told from Alan and Fermat's perspective, it occured to me that in order to provide critical information, I would have to use other characters as well, so it may, for a while, seem that the story turns away from the concentration on the two boys. Hopefully the changing of perspectives won't distract too much from the focus of the fic.
Boann
Jeff brust through the doors of the ER like a battering ram. On his heels were Brains and Scott. He slammed into the reception desk. "Jeff Tracy. My son, Alan, was in the bus crash."
At the sound of his name, the receptionist stood up and ushered the three of them into a quiet room. "I'll find a doctor," she said. "Was it just Alan Tracy?"
"N…n…Fermat Hackenbacker," stammered Brains.
The receptionist nodded. "Wait right there," she said, closing the door behind her.
Jeff ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He'd first heard the news on the radio. A truck had lost control and had been unable to stop at a red light, crashing into a school bus carrying a dozen boys and their teacher. At first, Jeff had thought nothing of it, but then he and Brains had received telecalls from the hospital in Massachusetts, saying that both Alan and Fermat had been in the crash and had been admitted. Leaving the others behind to man the base on Tracy Island, Jeff, and Brains had set off to break speed records in Tracy One. Regardless of his duties as second in command, Scott had refused to be left behind and had jumped in the pilot's chair before Jeff could say anything.
Jeff's mind was racing. In the taxi from the airport, they'd driven past the crash scene. Behind the red tape, the bus had laid on its right side, the left completely crumpled. By the look of it, the truck, which was being towed away, had crashed headlong into the front left side of the bus. The driver couldn't have stood a chance. Glass completely littered the road. However much he had tried, Jeff hadn't been able to see anything inside the bus itself.
By now, he was going numb with worry. He wanted to see his son; to hold him in his arms and thank the heavens for another lucky escape.
The door opening interrupted his thoughts. A tall man in his thirties with broad shoulders, russet hair and a clean shaven face walked in. The white coat he wore over his trousers and shirt identified him as a doctor.
"Jeff Tracy? Hiram Hackenbacker?" his voice was deep and kind.
They shook hands.
"My eldest son, Scott," Jeff introduced.
The doctor shook Scott's hand as well. "I'm Dr Quaid, Head of Emergency in Paediatrics. I will be overseeing both your sons' treatment."
"Are they ok?" asked Scott.
"Mr Hackenbacker, Fermat will be fine. He's sustained a mild concussion, minor whiplash, a dislocated shoulder and some bruising, but I am confident he'll make a full recovery," Dr Quaid assured with a smile.
"Can I g...g...see him?" asked Brains.
"Of course, just go to the reception and ask for a nurse called Sarah, she'll take you to him," said Dr Quaid.
Brains looked at Jeff uncertainly at first, but Jeff nodded and smiled in encouragement.
Once Brains had gone, Dr Quaid addressed Jeff. "Mr Tracy." His voice was now melancholy, which made Jeff's insides squirm. Dr Quaid indicated for them to take a seat.
"Alan was lucky enough not to be on the side of the bus that was hit. However, because he was on the window side when the bus overturned, he did sustain more serious injuries, as did the other boys in his position," Dr Quaid gently explained. "The window he fell against smashed onto the road, causing some glass to be embedded into his face and right side, which we've removed and treated. He also sustained a dislocated shoulder, a few broken ribs and twisted his knee, which has done some tendon and muscle damage. He also sustained a head injury, which we're monitoring closely"
"Does he have to have surgery?" asked Scott, who looked giddy from following the long list.
"Not as such, but there is a chance he may have internal bleeding caused by the impact of the crash. We've already done some tests, which have come up negative, but smaller bleeds are often undetectable in the early stages. We just have to keep monitoring him and hopefully when he regains consciousness, he can help us determine whether or not something is out of place," said Dr Quaid.
"Can we see him?" asked Jeff.
Nodding, Dr Quaid showed them out of the quiet room and into the ward. Rows of cubicles covered by curtains showed the results of the bus crash. Dr Quaid showed them into one of the cubicles. Jeff rushed to his son's side. "Alan," he whispered, pushing back strands of blonde hair from his son's forehead.
"Doctor, how serious is the head injury?" Scott quietly queried as he bent over his little brother.
"The concussion is fairly severe, but as of yet it does not appear to have caused any major damage. Alan's return to consciousness will give us more answers than the tests will, but until then these tests will inform us of any changes. I'll be sending Alan regularly to have scans. I don't want to miss anything," the doctor replied.
Scott and Jeff could only nod at his assessment.
"I'll leave you be," said Dr Quaid. "Any problems, just give a shout. But for now, talk to him. Hearing your voices might encourage him to wake up."
"Thank you," said Jeff, pulling up a stool and looking Alan up and down. Alan was truly a mess. His pale face could hardly be seen behind the gauze that covered his right temple, the stitches from the glass, the bruising, and an oxygen mask. He looked so fragile, so unnervingly peaceful. It gave Jeff the shudders.
He held Alan's cool hand, in which an IV had been inserted. "Alan," he called gently, "Can you hear me? It's Dad."
Scott mimicked him. "Hey buddy, I'm here too. It's gonna be ok. You're safe."
Jeff silently blessed his eldest son. Scott was so in tune with his siblings, it astounded Jeff. He knew exactly how to talk to them and calm them and never seemed to be bothered by them leaning on his shoulder.
"Alan, open your eyes for me," called Jeff, praying to see his son look up at him
But Alan remained in his state.
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Fermat was bored, and very sore. He was propped up into a sitting position by pillows with Brains sitting in a chair by his bed, stroking his hand gently. Sarah, the nurse, had explained that he would need to remain in hospital for a few days under observation. Fermat couldn't see what the big deal was. His dislocated shoulder had been fixed, the sling on his arm being the only evidence of its existence. His back and ribs bore deep blue bruises but they were tolerable if he didn't move too much and he knew the headache would pass.
It had been scary being alone in the hospital, and he had been relieved when his Dad had arrived. Brains had tried to explain what had happened in the crash. But Fermat knew everything already. The nurses had thrown plenty of rumours and information about the crash between the wards for him to gain a clear perspective. As of yet, three of the twelve boys wouldn't be going home.
"I practically fell on top of Alan, then fell off the c...c...seat and hit the edge of it as I went down, which is how I dislocated my sh...sh...humerus," he explained to his father.
"You remember?" asked Brains, looking amazed at his son's calmness.
Fermat nodded. "It was b...b...horrible," he murmured, easing himself into his pillows.
He winced as his ribs protested. "There was a huge j...j...crash. The others were thrown out of their seats. The bus b…b…started tipping slowly. When it hit the road, it sent a jolt c…c…through me. I hit Alan, then fell in front of him, c…c…hitting the edge of our seat." Fermat cursed his stutter as it returned, along with the memories.
Brains rubbed his arm. "Its ok, you're going to be al…al…fine."
Fermat could see his Dad struggling to find the words to comfort him, but he didn't want sympathy. Some more important was on his mind.
"Dad, is Alan ok?"
Brains took his hand, giving it a squeeze in an awkward attempt at consolidation. "I'm not sure," he said quietly.
"Could you find out?" asked Fermat, almost pleading.
"No need for you to get up, Brains," said a voice.
Father and son turned their heads to see Scott walk into the room.
"Hey Fermat, how are you?" asked Scott, giving a warm smile.
"I'm o…o…fine," stammered Fermat. "Where's Alan, is he ok?"
Scott pulled up a chair opposite to Brains. "He's pretty messed up. Right now the doctor's main concern is the possibility of internal bleeding," he explained gently.
"Is he in surgery n…n…at the moment?" asked Fermat.
Scott shook his head. "He sustained a head injury in the crash and the doctors want to keep an eye on him. So far they've run a few tests, but they came up negative, so they have to wait until Alan wakes up or until any bleeding becomes apparent."
"He's not awake?" gasped Fermat.
Scott looked down briefly before saying. "No."
Fermat could see the stress on Scott's face. It made him dread to think of what Mr Tracy's condition was like. He was very protective of all his sons and Fermat knew he wouldn't leave Alan's side until he was forcefully dragged away.
Fermat looked solemnly at his dad. "Can I go and see him?" he asked.
Brains shook his head. "I'm sorry son, you need your rest."
Apart from the huge feeling of disappointment, Fermat felt scared for his friend. He'd thought of nothing else since he arrived at the hospital. Thinking about the last time he'd seen his best friend. Fighting over something as stupid as a detention seemed pathetic compared to this. He'd been angry with Alan, but right now all he wanted was to see him.
He wasn't surprised about the injuries Alan had sustained, and he knew Alan had gotten off pretty well considering some of the others. As much as he dreaded seeing Alan in the state he was in, he so desperately wanted to see him. Hoping the sight of him would reassure him that his best friend was going to be ok.
Scott seemed to be reading his thoughts. "Hey, he'll be ok," he reassured. "You know how stubborn he is."
Fermat nodded, but couldn't help feeling that Scott had said that to reassure himself rather than him.