Buried Emotions

Disclaimer - Look! Hubby got me the Thunderbirds for Valentine's Day...Oh. No it was roses. Still very nice.

This is mainly Alan's interview. Hope I caught all the reviews. If not, deeply appreciated if not acknowledged.

Chapter Seven

Rebecca Blake took another sip of her coffee and looked over her notes one more time.

"Hey," a new voice broke in.

Rebecca turned, grinning. "Wow. If I'd have thought little Allie Tracy would have grown up so hot, I would have let you kiss me after all."

Alan went beet red. "Aw, come on. I was six years old!"

"And I was nine!" Rebecca laughed.

Alan shrugged. "I liked older women."

Laughing again, the pair moved towards the "living room" set in the local Wolf News Network studio. As they sat and let the audio techs fit them for their microphones, Rebecca smiled at a clearly nervous Alan.

"Now, nothing to be nervous about, Alan. I have the list of approved subjects and if you don't mind, I do have one or two I want to broach that weren't listed." At Alan's confused look, Rebecca motioned the techs aside, a nod indicating she wanted them off until she signaled otherwise.

"Alan," Rebecca softly said. "I got a tip that Ana Nevada is trying to verify that you have been a patient of a Boston psychiatrist, Annabeth Roberts. You know if it is true, she'll put the worst possible spin on this. I won't say anything if you don't want me to, but - "

"But you want me to be proactive," Alan muttered, clearly distressed.

"You don't have to…"

"Yes," Alan sighed. "Yes I do. You open the door but I will walk into the room. Like the rest of this, we need to make the first mark."

Rebecca smiled. "You really are a die-hard Tracy, aren't you?"

Smiling back, Alan shrugged. "I've tried to be."

Tin-Tin Kyrano watched from the production area, smiling gratefully when a stage hand passed her a bottle of water. Taking a sip in an effort to sooth her nerves more than any actual thirst, Tin-Tin saw a distressed look flash over Alan's face before he came back to his usual controlled self. Unconsciously, Tin-Tin reached out to touch Alan's mind. She relaxed when she felt his warmth and humor roll over her.

This was something none of his family knew. Alan was more like her family than his own in that way, although she wondered if the psychic connection the brothers seemed to share was an indication of something more. But Alan had a little bit of an edge on that. It made him more sensitive at times. Her father had been working with Alan on it ever since the incident with her uncle…with the Hood. She refused to think of that monster, the man who had nearly killed Alan, as family. The Tracys were her family – and Alan was her life. And she would defend the man who defined her world with her last breath.

Even from the media, Tin-Tin wryly thought, trying to relax as the director indicated the interview was about to start.

"Has it started yet?" Kate asked breathlessly as she ran into the main house.

"No," Emily said from her place on the couch. John was nervously by her side, while Sarah remained on the other. Emily shot a glare at Sarah as she pulled back her wrist. "I'm fine," she grumbled. "Stop taking my pulse."

"Maybe you should -" John began only for his wife to cut him off.

"Sit back, watch Alan's interview and have you guys relax. I am almost at my due date and we are fine."

Sarah said nothing, knowing that Emily was actually at the riskiest part of her pregnancy.

"Why are they doing this live, anyhow?" Scott grumbled from his seat. He had only just returned from Thunderbird Five. The family was testing a remote system but between Alan's graduation then wedding and the eminent birth of John and Emily's son, there was really no practical way for anyone besides Brains to go and he had his own son's graduation approaching. So a shakedown of the remote system was being done.

Not to mention, there was no way anyone wanted John up there this close to the baby's birth. Gordon didn't need another black eye.

"The network chose to run this live because that way no one could accuse them of editing it later," Jeff explained calmly. He was due to leave for New York in the morning with Kate. While his daughter in law had meetings, Jeff was bringing Alan and Tin-Tin to New York to celebrate their birthdays. Alan's had been a week ago – Gordon had gone to Boston for it – and Tin-Tin's was next week but so were the kids' graduations.

"They have a fluff piece that can be fit in to the news magazine now if Alan's interview is less than ten minutes or another fluff piece due for the end if it runs long will be bumped," Kate said absently as she looked around. "Where are the kids?"

"Onaha and Kyrano," Virgil said, sitting by his wife's feet. "They are going to watch the recording and we can decide if we want the kids to watch later."

"That works," Kate said as she settled next to Scott.

As a commercial for the latest Ford Hybrid F-150 truck faded away,

"Show time," John muttered as Emily squeezed his hand in silent support.

Smiling at the camera, Rebecca Blake tilted her head slightly as if inviting her viewers into her confidence.

"No family in recent American history has been as fascinating or dynamic as that of the Tracys. They are more than rich and famous – they are almost American Royalty. But unlike so many well-to-do families, they are known for not being known. They do not invite attention from the media and in fact, guard their privacy well. Jeff Tracy – former astronaut and now a billionaire businessman – was widowed when his youngest son, Alan, was only three, leaving the man to raise five sons, ranging in age from three to fifteen, on his own. With the grit and determination that his farming ancestors were known for, Jeff Tracy did so and continued to grow his business into an international conglomerate known around the globe. His sons have gone on to make their own mark in the world. Eldest son Scott was a hero in the Terrorist Wars, winning the Medal of Honor for saving lives at the risk of his own. John, an astronomer, has published eleven books and is known for discovering a star which he later named for his late mother, Lucy. Virgil Tracy has played piano for Presidents and Kings and has two paintings hanging in the White House – and four more at the National Gallery. Fourth son Gordon is perhaps best known as a Gold Medal Winner at the summer Olympics eight years ago. But youngest son Alan has always been a bit of an enigma. Today that will end."

Smiling again, Rebecca paused as the camera angle adjusted to show both her and her guest. Leaning back slightly, she quickly spoke to Alan.

"Welcome, Alan," Rebecca cheerfully greeted him.

Alan smiled back and nodded. "Thank you, Rebecca."

Off stage, the director muttered, "God, the camera loves this kid." He shut up at the glare shot his way by Tin-Tin.

"Now," Rebecca with a confiding demeanor, "You have been in the press a lot in the last eight years. Some good, some bad but for the most part your family has tried to keep you out of the media. In fact, I recall when People Magazine ran a story on your family, no recent image of you was available."

"First off," Alan explained calmly. "The Tracys never approved that story. Dad hated it in fact. He was also disgusted with the picture they did run."

"One of you at age three, I believe."

"One of me in my father's arms," Alan said sharply. "Still with obvious injuries at my mother's funeral."

Rebecca nodded. "Yes, I can see how that would be painful to your family." Watching Alan pull himself back together, she continued.

"Before we discuss anything else, I would love to know – you have so much else going on right now but will one of those things be going to the Olympic Trials in June then hopefully on to the Summer Olympics in France?"

Alan chewed his lower lip for a moment before answering.

"It won't."

Thousands of miles away on Tracy Island the silence was deafening.

Alan leaned forward slightly. "Like you said, Rebecca, I have so much going on. I graduate from Harvard next week, my first book goes on sale not long after I get married in June and I agreed to do a limited book tour. I was supposed to start working full time for Tracy Enterprises July 1st but that has been pushed back to August 1st to give me some breathing room."

"I have to admit," Rebecca mused. "I found that fascinating. You have been technically working for your family business since you were sixteen."

Alan almost choked on the water he was sipping before he realized Rebecca was talking about Tracy Enterprises and not International Rescue.

Besides, he started that at fourteen.

"Technically," Alan shared with a cheeky grin. "I was a contract employee. No benefits. But since I was still in school it was a moot point – I was covered under Dad's insurance."

Rebecca laughed. "Well, you have to admit it was unusual."

Shrugging, Alan tilted his head. "A lot of kids have part time jobs during the summer while in school."

"There's a big difference between working at McDonald's and helping design state of the art security systems," Rebecca pointed out.

Nodding this time, Alan conceded her point – sort of.

"Yes, I earned more and didn't go home smelling like French fries. But," he continued firmly. "I earned my place on any project I worked on. The staff at Tracy Enterprises in the best and they expect only top grade work from anyone on one of their teams. No one gets a free ride. Or as Dad likes to tell us – no short cuts. Put in the work, put in the effort and get the job done."

"Well, how did you first get on to one of the teams?" Rebecca asked with genuine interest. "I mean, at sixteen -"

"Actually," Alan laughed, "I was fifteen. I'm sure you remember the incident at my boarding school when I was hit by a car."

"Of course," Rebecca allowed. "For any viewer who doesn't recall, when Alan was attending Wharton's Academy for Boys he was struck from behind by a fellow student who had snuck off campus in a school vehicle and attended a party where he had become intoxicated. You were out running on a back road – a service road I believe? – and that was why it took so long to find you after he left you there."

Alan nodded in agreement. "It wasn't an easy recovery. I actually wasn't able to rejoin the track team until the Spring of the following year. My family did their best to distract me that summer. One day. I happened to find some work of John's and started scribbling notes. John came back and instead of getting mad at me, started a discussion on my ideas. He liked them so much, he incorporated them. And when the final costs for the project were submitted, he included a consulting fee for me."

Rebecca leaned forward. "The hit and run incident was only one of several troubling incidents that occurred to you while in high school. May I review them?"

Taking Alan's nod as an OK, she began.

"While at Wharton's, you were hit by a car, found yourself in hostage situation three times, caught in a bomb blast in the parking garage of Tracy Towers, and poisoned by a disgruntled Tracy Enterprises employee."

"Well, Lainie Roy wasn't so much disgruntled as a bit of a nut job," Alan snickered. "And she was more ticked off that Virgil was dating Sarah and ignoring her."

Rebecca shook her head in amazement that Alan could find something funny about that.

"What incident in high school was the most traumatic for you?" she asked in genuine curiosity.

"Delivering my nephew Jason during a power outage in New York," Alan quickly replied. "You didn't mention it but that was simultaneously the most amazing and terrifying moment of my life and one I will be more than happy to never repeat."

Chuckling with him, Rebecca quickly grew serious once more when she changed the subject. "Those incidents all occurred while you were attending Wharton's. But there was another incident at the high school you attended before Wharton's, wasn't there?"

On the Island, everyone tensed even as Kate and Jeff stared in shock. THAT wasn't among the approved topics.

Alan nodded slowly. "Yes, I attended Holly Brook Academy in California for the first few months of my Freshman year."

"Yes," Rebecca nodded. "And if I remember correctly, the school closed after a scandal erupted a few years ago when it was revealed that one of the teachers had been molesting boys there for years. He even had a "type" – blonde, blue eyes and around thirteen or fourteen. That sounds a lot like you. Were you ever, well…"

"Molested by him?" Alan said with a sigh. "Yes. Did it go as far as it did with his other targets? No. But only because the day he tried something with me, I accidently cracked a Bunsen burner and ended up blowing up the chemistry lab. I was withdrawn from Holly Brook and later transferred to Wharton's. It was a good thing because Tomo was there."

"I want to touch on that subject in a moment," Rebecca gently said. "But why didn't that come to light? You weren't his first victim-"

"Target," Alan said quickly. "None of us should consider ourselves victims of that monster."

"Fine," Rebecca allowed. "Target. But I can't see the Tracys doing nothing."

Alan sighed. "They didn't know. Dad was caught up in business when it happened and by the time he got there, the professor had spun it that I had been goofing off. Although the investigation proved that wasn't true, Dad was pretty upset when we first saw each other. My mother died because of someone doing something they shouldn't have been under the circumstances and he was pretty mad that I would do something like that. We fought, I was hurt and I didn't feel like he would listen. I'll never know now. But as time went by, I felt like I couldn't say anything. Not an uncommon thing for people in that situation."

"So you didn't say anything," Rebecca sighed. "And then you brought up Tomo…"

"Tomo Wattamee," Alan explained. "He was an amazing friend and practically another brother. I could – and did – tell him anything."

"He died just after you graduated from Wharton's," Rebecca gently probed. "Was that just one thing too many for you? Especially considering the scandal had just broken about Hollybrook and your family now knew about it?"

Now it was Alan's turn to sigh. "I tried to deal with it. I made it through the first half of my Freshman year at Harvard but…well, I felt like I needed help to deal and my sister-in-law, Emily, helped me find a professional to talk to." He grinned wryly. "So yes, I went to a shrink."

"And it helped?" Rebecca questioned.

"Incredibly," Alan said. "My feelings about Tomo's death, letting me deal with the previously mentioned incidents, even the guilt over my mother's death."

"May I ask about why you would feel any guilt over your mother's death?" Rebecca gently said. "You were only three."

"Beyond your normal survivor's guilt?" Alan mused. "I lived, she didn't? As I got older, and especially with Tomo dying, I was trying really hard to remember my mother. See, the only real memory I have of her is her dying next to me in the avalanche. And I could recall things that bothered me. It was during some of my therapy that I realized what it was. My mother moved several times, as best she could, trying to clear snow away from my face to give me a bigger air pocket and again when she took my glove and pushed it up as far as she could. It was my glove that my brother found that led to me being rescued in time. And the air pocket allowed me enough air to save my life. As badly injured as my mother was, she decreased her chances of surviving by moving. She had severe internal injuries and when she moved like that, she virtually signed her own death warrant."

"And that confused you?"

Alan looked so sad at that moment that every heart in the studio and Tracy Island – plus countless television viewers – clenched in sympathy.

"My mother did everything she could to make sure I lived. I can recall her voice, in so much pain but trying to comfort me. She was telling me how much I was loved, not just by her but by the rest of the family. She told me to be a good boy and to never forget that I was wanted and I was loved. I must have lost consciousness about then because the next thing I can recall is waking up and my brother Scott was sitting by my side, holding my hand."

Gathering himself even as Rebecca fought to hold back her own tears at the poignant story, Alan gave a small smile.

"I have to admit, I wasn't always the good boy she asked me to be."

As Rebecca gave a small chuckle at that, Alan nodded. "I kinda understand now. I mean – I adore my niece and nephews. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for them and if it came down to a choice between one of them and me, there would be no choice in my eyes. And those aren't my children, they are my brothers'. I can understand a bit better now. When it comes to a child, one you love with all your heart, you would gladly give your own life up if it meant they would have a chance to live."

Rebecca glanced over at the director who shot her a small signal.

"OK, Alan – our time is about up. I have a final question for you."

"Please," Alan chuckled. "Don't ask me what kind of tree I would be. That has to be the dumbest question in the history of journalism."

Rebecca laughed even as she silently agreed. "No, but you are someone who wears many hats – student, athlete, brother, son, uncle, friend, fiancé – soon to be husband and some day father – and now putting on the hat of writer and electronic security designer for one of the largest corporations in the world. What would be the one thing that you would want to be remembered for in a hundred years?"

Alan smiled softly. "My dad has this little card Grandma Tracy gave him years ago. He always takes it with him wherever he goes. The quote on it says "A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove... but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child." I once asked him what the really meant. He gave me a hug and said it meant to be a good person and remember what has true value in your life. So if you want to know how I want to be remembered, it would be as a good person."

Everyone in the studio smiled at that self-defacing answer.

Rebecca gave a small nod. "I don't think that will be a problem. Thank you for your time, Alan." Looking at the camera, she smiled again. "And Jake Dunham is up next with his exclusive interview with the rebel leaders in the break-away province of Valekstan. But first, a brief message from our sponsors."

Standing, Rebecca quickly hugged Alan. "You did great, Alan. I'll see you in Kansas for your wedding."

Alan moved towards Tin-Tin, leaning into the hug she gave him. "Did I look like a total idiot?" he muttered.

"You looked and sounded great," Tin-Tin assured him. "Everyone in the crew was saying so. And I bet Dad and Kate will tell you that tomorrow. Now – let's go meet Linda and Dave for dinner. We are heading to New York pretty early tomorrow."

On Tracy Island, any discussion was deferred by the sound of the alarm on the watches – a new rescue came before everything

In Kansas, two sets of viewers had two very different reactions.

At Millie's Diner, Jean and Millie smiled at each other. Little Allie was all grown up but every inch a Tracy. They couldn't wait to see him again.

But in a small, run-down bar just outside of Bailey, three sets of eyes watched the interview with loathing. It would be hard to say who despised the young man more – Kyle Westcott, Jackson Mitchell or Kiefer Dutton.

It might be even harder to say who could harm Alan Tracy the most.

A/N - OK, updating. Reality - what a concept - will be sucking away at writing time. But will update when I can. Please and thank you. CC