Buried Emotions
disclaimer- no, duh. Oh, and using a little bit of a song from Les Miserables...in French, of course. My daughter suggested it, she loves the play.
Chapter Twenty One
Jean Landman was feeling rather frustrated…
Nah.
She was totally pissed off.
In the nearly three decades that she and Scott Tracy had been BFFs, she had never – not even once – broken a promise to him. When he had left a few hours earlier, Jason held close in one arm while his other arm was around Kate's shoulder, Scott had caught her eye. With a brief nod, both of their minds went back more than twenty years…
"You almost done there, Scooter?" Jeannie asked as she rolled her bat over her shoulders.
"Almost," Scott murmured as he finished giving Alan a bottle. Smiling, he set the bottle down and placed Alan on his shoulder. Gently patting the baby's back, Scott's grin grew when Alan let loose with a healthy burp.
Placing the month-old in his basinet, Scott adjusted the blankets and watched as the baby drifted off to sleep.
"That's it, baby," Scott crooned. "Sleepy time, ok? We love you lots, you know that?"
Jeannie leaned over the basinet, setting her bat down as she did.
"He is cute," Jeannie allowed.
"Cute?" Scott countered, outraged. "He's adorable. You going blind there, Bates?"
Jeannie rolled her eyes. "I said he was cute. That's more than I usually allow. You know I don't do babies if I can help it. You coming out now?"
Scott nodded, smiling as he ran a finger over Alan's cheek. "I'll be back soon, Baby. I'll watch over you. Because that's what big brothers do – we take care of our babies and don't let anything hurt them. We look out for them."
"And so do big sisters," Jeannie murmured, touching a finger to Alan's button nose, causing the baby to wrinkle it before he sighed and curled deeper into sleep.
"Thought you didn't do babies," Scott teased, his eyes never leaving Alan.
"Yeah, well," Jeannie muttered, blushing. "You got my word – if you aren't around to look out for the Sprout here, I'll take care of the kid."
"Promise?"
"On my Daddy's grave," Jeannie said solemnly.
Scott looked at his best friend and smiled. Jeannie had adored her Daddy, so for her to make a vow on her father's grave, he knew she really meant that.
"Thanks, Jeannie," Scott said gruffly.
Jeannie ducked her head to hide her blushing. "Oh, come on, Scooter – are we gonna play ball or not?"
Scott grabbed his mitt off of the bench and waved to his mother who was still on the phone with his father. Lucy waved back and blew a kiss, mouthing "thank you" to her oldest son. She was about to answer Jeff's question when the Tracy mother let out a small laugh from hearing Scott ask Jeannie "what is it with you and nicknames? I mean, Sprout? Who's gonna call the kid Sprout?"
The sound of Lucy Tracy's laughter seemed to echo in Jean's ears as she turned to look out into the night. She could tell the search of the house was getting nowhere and she didn't know…what…
"Miss Lucy?" Jean whispered, moving closer to the doorway.
Jean Bates Landman believed in God and his Angels, but ghosts were another thing all together. Yet outside of the house, on a small path leading to the graveyard just beyond, there was a translucent Lucy Tracy…
Stepping further outside the house, Jean looked beyond the sight that a rational mind would deny and saw movement –
"In a box?" Jean whispered before going pale. Running back into the house, she pulled back a fist and punched Jackson Mitchell in the head, knocking him out cold.
Daria Delgado, who had just come downstairs, grabbed Jean's arm.
"Landman!" the FBI Agent snapped. "Have you gone nuts?"
"Alan!" Jean snapped as she pulled out her sidearm and began to run outside.
Daria followed Jean, grabbing her arm just outside the house. "What about Alan?"
"He buried Allie!" Jean cried. "He buried that boy alive!"
Daria let go of Jean's arm, pulling out her own gun as both women began to run towards the graveyard…
Back in the graveyard…
"You had to interfere, didn't you," Kyle said with the calmness that comes from being completely insane. "You Tracys – always thinking you are so much better, deserving of so much more."
"What," Gordon said tightly, clutching Alan's limp body to his chest, "could my brother have done to deserve being stabbed, beaten and buried alive?"
Kyle shrugged. "I was stabbed. Fourth day in prison. I didn't give some goon my pudding. So he took a sharpened spoon and stabbed me. Beaten? More times than I can count. White boy in prison is a target on a daily basis, and as long as they didn't have to transport me outside where it would be written up? The administration didn't care. The first time I was raped in prison, I tried to get some justice and ended up in solitary for a month."
Smirking at Gordon, Kyle kicked Alan's leg, annoyed when he didn't get a reaction from the blonde. "I wanted Golden Boy to get the full treatment, but Jack wouldn't let me."
Gordon felt a chill and clutched Alan even closer, realizing just what the escaped convict meant.
Quietly pulling out his phone, Gordon spoke softly. "I can call my Dad right now. He'll still send the money. You can just go. With five million dollars, you can find another way out of the country. Or let me leave Alan here with Julie. I'll drive you to the airport and we can be on our way."
"Don't you mean after we get my brother?" Kyle asked casually.
Relieved that Kyle didn't seem to know Mitchell had been captured yet, Gordon shrugged.
"Yeah, I meant – well, where is Mitchell? We can pick him up on the way to the plane."
The sudden roar of the gun, with the bullet landing in a small space between Gordon and Julie made them both flinch, with Julie emitting a small scream.
The madness within Kyle Westcott was clearly reflected in his face as he held the gun at the group.
"That bitch, the Sheriff, she has Jack and you must know that," Kyle growled, spittle coming from his mouth in his fury. "How else could you find us?"
"Tomo told me," Gordon shrugged. Hell, if Kyle could go nuts, why couldn't he?
"Tomo?" Kyle looked confused before his eyes widened. "Tomo Wattamee? Golden Boy's faithful Asian companion?"
"Alan isn't the Lone Ranger and Tomo wasn't Tonto," Gordon grumbled.
"I was thinking more Green Hornet and Kato," Julie shrugged.
"That does fit more," Gordon agreed.
"No it doesn't!" Kyle screamed, spittle once more flying to the disgust of the others. "He's dead! Wattamee is dead! And it hurt your brother! If I'd had known how much, I would have killed Wattamee when I had the chance! He's dead and he isn't here to protect Alan Tracy anymore!"
"Dead yes," Gordon sighed. "Not here? I wish. He's been haunting my ass for years now. I think he's determined to prove he's better at being a big brother to Alan than I am. That or he just really likes to piss me off."
"Maybe both," Julie offered.
"You're playing with me!" Kyle screamed as sanity now became a complete stranger to him. Waving the gun wildly, he continued his rant.
"Wake him up! Wake the little bastard up! I want to kill you with him watching!" Kyle screamed.
"Our parents were married way before Allie was born, thank you very much," Gordon snarked, praying all the while that Alan remained unconscious – at least for now.
Kyle reached over and grabbed Julie, yanking her back to press his gun to her throat, the still hot muzzle burning her fair skin.
"WAKE HIM!" Kyle screamed madly. "WAKE HIM OR YOUR LITTLE FOREIGN SLUT DIES NOW!"
Julie's eyes narrowed and her lips became two tight lines before she exploded back at Kyle, stomping on his foot and clawing at his arm even as she cursed him out.
"Vous bâtard misérable! Je suis une bonne fille et que vous êtes un cochon pourri qui mérite tout ce qu'il a obtenu!"*
Julie scrambled away from Kyle, who quickly regained his breath and glared at the trio on the ground.
"You're all going to die," he hissed, raising his gun…
The sound of the shot echoed throughout the cemetery.
John froze, running out of the small attic and almost colliding into Virgil as he exited an upstairs bedroom.
"Virg," John gasped.
"Yeah, I know," Virgil said grimly, leading the way down the stairs.
The men paused at the sight of an unconscious Jackson Mitchell. John bent down to grab a zip tie that was lying haphazardly on the coffee table and pulled the escaped convict towards an oak armoire, securing Mitchell's cuffed hands to a leg of the heavy furniture piece.
"What do you think happened to him?" Virgil asked as they fled the house.
"Who cares?" John snapped. "Probably Daria or Jean."
As they caught sight of the two women, running down the path that led to the graveyard, guns drawn, Virgil nodded. He knew three things for sure – One, there was trouble. Two, it probably involved his missing brother. And three, if Alan wasn't alive and well, someone else wasn't going to be either.
Oh, and four – his money was on Jean.
Alan Tracy could hear voices but they seemed far away. Keeping his eyes shut to prevent nausea (yup, definite concussion here), he almost opened them when he heard Julie telling Kyle off in French. Alan almost smiled – oh yeah, as long as Gordo didn't blow this one, Julie would make a great Tracy daughter.
Feeling Julie hit the ground hard next to him, Alan barely heard Kyle's cold "You're all going to die." Forcing his eyes open, Alan saw Kyle raise a gun, pointing it at Gordon's head. Willing away the waves of pain coursing through his body, Alan thrust his bound legs at Kyle, knocking the lunatics aim off. As the echo from the gunshot faded, so did Alan's strength, as if the increased pain from his sudden movement had stolen what little energy Alan had at the moment.
Gordon felt his breathing begin again. Looking down at Alan, he patted his baby brother's cheek. "Al? Kid? C'mon, wake back up."
"Had to be the hero again," Kyle snarled, holding the gun a bit more tightly, his hand smarting at not having a proper grip when it had fired a moment again. "Well, there is a last time for everything."
Aiming once more, Kyle pointed the gun straight at Gordon Tracy. Alan Tracy was unconscious again and Gordon's ball of fluff was no threat…at least as long as he kept her at arm's length. Now to eliminate his nightmares…
Julie screamed slightly when a gunshot echoed again. Gordon looked at her, then down at himself. OK, they were fine…
Kyle, however, was not.
Gordon looked up at Kyle Westcott, taking in the way his hand went slack, dropping his gun; at the vacant stare from his cold eyes –
At the bullet hole the ripped through his left temple and exited through his right.
"Damn," Daria said as she approached the grave. "Nice shot. Especially considering you basically did that on the run."
Jean nodded coldly. "Wouldn't be the first time I had to put down a dangerous animal about to attack."
"I think there is a difference between Westcott and a rabid dog," Gordon said, once more focusing on his unconscious brother, referencing when Jean had shot a mad dog to save Alan after the kid had been injured in a tornado.
"I don't," Julie snapped, letting Alan's head be placed in her lap while she tenderly brushed back her friend's sweat and blood streaked hair.
Gordon pushed back a sliver of jealousy at the tenderness Julie showed Alan, forcing himself to recall the pair were friends before he had begun to date the swimmer. Julie was ignorant of her boyfriend's misplaced emotions as she began to softly sing to Alan.
"Il ya un château sur un nuage,
J'aime y aller dans mon sommeil,
Ne sont pas des étages pour me balayer,
Pas dans mon château sur un nuage.
Il ya une salle qui est pleine de jouets,
Il ya une centaine de filles et garçon,
Personne ne crie ou parle trop fort,
Pas dans mon château sur un nuage."**
John and Virgil came running down the path, ignoring Daria securing the scene while Jean made sure Kyle was definitely dead – not that there was much doubt. Breathing heavily, they fell beside their brothers on the ground, Virgil immediately examining Alan.
Gordon looked up from where he was untying Alan's legs even as John pulled out a pen knife to cut free Alan's bound wrists. Nodding at Gordon, he relayed what he knew.
"Alan was barely breathing, we did some rescue breaths to help, he has a head injury and a stab wound to the left shoulder. Both had stopped bleeding by the time we got to him. Not sure how long he was buried but there is a device in the box, should have given him some oxygen."
John looked down at Alan's almost grave with a shudder before he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "That device shouldn't be used in a completely enclosed space. It probably was only working at fifty percent capability and definitely wouldn't have maintained enough air to keep Al alive until we were supposed to find him."
Julie began to softly cry at that pronouncement, making Gordon pause and reach out to squeeze her hand.
Virgil muttered, "still bleeding" as he probed Alan's shoulder before he froze and yelled at Jean.
"Jeannie! We need an ambulance now!"
Jean knelt beside the Tracys, radio in hand. "It's on the way, Virg," she assured him.
Virgil looked up, anger and fear warring in his eyes.
"He's been shot."
Translations
*You miserable bastard! I am a good girl and you are a rotten pig who deserves whatever he has gotten!
**There is a castle on a cloud,
I like to go there in my sleep,
Aren't any floors for me to sweep,
Not in my castle on a cloud.
There is a room that's full of toys,
There are a hundred boy and girls,
Nobody shouts or talks too loud,
Not in my castle on a cloud.
Les Miserables - Castle On A Cloud
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