Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

I'm alive! Please forgive me for such a long hiatus. As always, I promise never to abandon the story. It just might take me longer than planned. Especially when life takes you on a course you never imagined.

Behold, here is the long-awaited continuation, and I hope you enjoy it.

Letting It All Sink In

While ignorant and careless may have been a few choice words Alan would have chosen for his classmate, a homicidal maniac wasn't one of them off hand. Holding a copy of Wharton's school newspaper, Alan began almost to feel sick to his stomach. It wasn't the first time he had come across nor heard a report on the school fire. However, he was almost horrified at how carelessly the fire at his school had started. He was also numb as he realized how many lives he hadn't been able to help get out. Lives that were needlessly and innocently lost.

Three weeks had passed since the raging fire had engulfed Wharton Academy. Three weeks since the tragic accident had taken 18 lives. Accident? Alan quickly scoffed at the word. The op-ed he was reading in front of him seemed to scoff at the word as well.

It didn't take long for news to pass among the students of the private school of what and most importantly – who - had been responsible for so many lives lost.

Sophomore, Aaron Edwards.

Taking a big puff of air, Alan closed his eyes as he worked through his breathing treatment. His body was healing slowly, but there were some side effects his heroics had cost him. He wasn't able to breathe well without added help from an oxygen tank. His breathing treatments were helping his lungs improve, but not at a pace he wanted.

His burns were healing nicely, along with his ribs. The knock to his head was finally healing as well. Only small headaches remained as a bitter annoyance. His left shoulder was being a little tougher. It had taken longer for the swelling in the limb to go down, which in turn delayed his ability to move it. In his third week, Alan's arm stayed in a sling.

The wound in his back had given him a challenge for a few days. Within the first week of his hospital stay, a minor infection had developed in the wound - giving the Tracy family a scare. With a strong battling antibiotic and routine care, Alan had won that battle too. However, a dull ache and occasional sting every time he moved too quickly reminded the seventeen-year-old that it was still there.

Looking back down at the newspaper, Alan sobered once more. The article drawing his attention again:

"…The acts produced by Aaron Edwards were both malicious and homicidal. He and Tommy Newton hold no regard for their actions. Many of us lost more than one friend, and who is being held responsible? No one. Newton is naturally claiming no knowledge of having cigarettes in their dorm room. How convenient. Investigators are keeping a tight lid on the exact origin of the fire, but luckily an anonymous source let it leak that a burning cigarette was indeed the initial cause. Again, I ask who is being held responsible?

What about Aaron? He is conveniently missing. PR reps for his family are keeping a tight leash on the carnage that continues to follow his wake. So, the maniac can burn down a school, burn his family home, and suddenly run away with no consequence? It sounds like we should pay close attention to his Mother's election coming up. Does this kind of careless thinking run in the family?

A little word to the wise investigators, ask any student that was there that night, and we'll solve your investigation for you in five minutes. Do you need witnesses? We have them. Do you need more proof? Let us help. Do you need a character statement? Talk to any of us…"

"Alan?" a voice called, tearing him from the article and his thoughts. The teen looked up to see a concerned Virgil staring back at him. "Hey, everything okay?"

"Hey, Virg," Alan replied, taking another puff of his treatment, and closing the paper. "I'm fine, just catching up on some reading."

Frowning at his youngest brother's demeanor, Virgil glanced at the item lying in the blonde's lap. Seeing Wharton Academy plastered across the top of the newspaper, it wasn't hard for the middle brother to put two and two together. "Anything you want to share?"

Alan sighed but quickly regretted the action as several coughs followed. "New story, old news."

Virgil's frown only deepened. "Still doesn't mean there's nothing to talk about, Sprout."

Alan controlled the urge to roll his eyes. "You're just fishing for a pep-talk, aren't ya bro?"

"Only if there's one that is needed," Virgil smiled, happy to see that Alan was well enough to crack a joke.

Taking one last puff before the machine turned off, Alan laid his breather down. Looking back at the school newspaper, he let his thoughts return to the article. "Did you hear the school is planning a memorial service?" Alan swatted Virgil's hand away as he tried to help him reattach his nasal cannula.

Virgil eyed his brother curiously. "Dad mentioned it the other day, but nothing more was said."

Alan began fidgeting with his blanket. "Zach said they want us to be there as a special honor."

"That shouldn't come as a surprise, Allie! After what you did, you deserve nothing less," Virgil smiled with pride.

"I don't want recognition, Virgil," Alan wheezed, leaning back into his pillow.

Virgil frowned once more. Something deeper was going on here than the senior wanting to remain a humble savior. "What's really bothering you, Alan?"

Alan remained silent for a few seconds, pondering his thoughts. After feeling his older brother place a gentle hand on his arm, he met Virgil's caring eyes. "Do you ever wonder why?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be a little more specific, kid," Virgil replied, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Why do people do the things they do?" Alan reiterated.

Virgil blew out a big breath before he spoke. "Well, kiddo. That could easily be a million-dollar question. As Johnny would say, a higher calling drives most. I'm sure most have a good reason for pushing them to do something. Since we could talk about what-ifs all day, I'm going to cut to the chase. Are you questioning the fire, and what happened that day at Wharton's?"

"I don't know specifics about the fire. A lot of it is still kind of fuzzy. Heck, you guys probably know more than I do. It's just…." Alan was struggling to place his feelings into words. "Do you think someone could purposely cause something so horrible to happen? I remember the heat of the fire. It was like Hell, Virgil. Well, how I'd imagine it'd be. I didn't know where I was going and if I would get everybody out. Why would someone want to cause that much destruction and carelessly take lives?"

Realization and understanding dawned on Virgil. "Sprout," the brunette sighed. "That isn't a question I can easily answer. It goes against everything we know. Everything we do. Sometimes things just don't make sense. What I do know is regardless of what placed you in that situation, you reacted exactly how you were trained. Good old Tracy DNA at its finest, Allie. The thing is, you'll drive yourself crazy trying to understand why and it's best to just focus on where you are now."

"Still doesn't seem fair, Virg. One life is never more than another. I hate that I wasn't able to get everyone out. I should've done more. Why do I get to be recognized, when the one guy who caused all this is running free somewhere?" Alan asked, playing with the corner of the school newspaper.

Virgil took ahold of Alan's right hand and squeezed it. "Don't for one-second blame yourself for those lives lost, Alan. Ever. You went above and beyond what was asked of you that day. You didn't ask for that fire to happen. You know as well as I do that with the family business, things are never clear cut. We can only do what is realistic. Sometimes-"

"-you can't save everyone. Yeah, I know. Dad gave me that speech a couple of years ago. Doesn't make it hurt any less." Alan admitted. "I just wish I knew why Aaron did it."

"Remember, we don't know for certain he did," Virgil quickly stated.

It was Alan's turn to raise his eyebrow, scowling at his brother. "You can't be serious? Everything points to Aaron Edwards as the culprit."

"Do your feelings have anything to do with what you just read in that paper?"

Alan's face fell, realizing his misplaced anger. "I'm sorry. I just….I don't understand I guess."

Virgil's face softened. "I know. In due time we might have some answers. For now, how about we focus on things we can control."

"Like what?"

"Well, you're improved health is a great start, don't you think?" Virgil smirked.

"Yea," Alan smiled. "I suppose that is. I'm getting there. One painful day at a time."

Virgil chuckled at the pout growing on his baby brother's face. "Rome wasn't built in one day, Sprout."

Alan grinned. No, it really wasn't.

-TB-

Joyfully playing with his lighter, Aaron Edwards stared at the Wharton Academy newspaper as it burned. The ink from the paper creating a rainbow in the garbage can. So, they were ready to label him a maniac? They had no idea, Aaron sneered.

Grabbing a copy of the Boston Globe, his anger only boiled as his eyes glanced at the front page once more. Presidential Hopeful Suffers Tragedy after Troubled Son's Misdeeds. The sophomore balled it into a crumpled heap and threw it into the ignited garbage.

Of course, he was going to be the scapegoat!

Clenching his fists tightly, Aaron could spit nails as he recalled the article from Wharton Academy.

"…the careless idiot needs to pay for his actions. We will rebuild our lives and be a stronger student body. No one can – especially a homicidal maniac – take away our spirit. We will remember those whose lives were tragically lost. We will remember those who mattered. Not those whose selfish and rotten acts caused such an unthinkable act.

I speak for many of the student body, as we are beyond grateful for the selfless acts by those of Alan Tracy and Zach Wassman. As we head toward the memorial service, we owe them for how many lives were saved. They are the real heroes…."

"Real heroes?! Give me a break!" Aaron fumed, as he threw his fist into the wall. "If they want to see someone who is selfish and a homicidal, then they better brace themselves. They won't see what's coming next."

Grabbing his bag from the corner, the dark-haired teen trudged out the door of his hotel room. He had shopping to do.

TBC…

Well, not exactly the longest chapter ever written. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm working on the next chapter, and I hope to pump out more work faster than before. It's been a tough go for me, and I am very grateful for those who have stuck by me. I've had moments of not wanting to go on with anything in my life, but here I am. Trucking along! Bad health and life lemons along with. I just had a birthday, and I'm hoping to try and make this my best year yet. The way onward is forward, right?

As always, please review!

Xoxo, shadowfow8 or as some know me, Allison or Allie