Tony sat and listened as the two agents told of the disaster that had befallen his son. His son's torturer and rapist had caught up with him and Alex was sat dealing with the consequences. That bastard Yassen Gregorovich had told Alex to come back to his father. It was like some sick and twisted game to let Tony know he'd dropped the ball and Alex had paid the price. Tony was totally unsure on how to proceed. He had sat waiting for the Air France arrival fully expecting to rant at Alex for disappearing and to ground him for the foreseeable future, but now? His son was probably closed off and completely detached from any form of comfort and would treat any attempt at reconciliation with open hostility.
Tony was led into a horrible grey room where Alex was sat. His son looked drawn and thin. Alex had lost any weight he'd gained from a year spent on his high protein and high calorie diet. Alex had stopped swimming, the one thing that brought him peace and a sense of perspective.
Alex stared at his father with cool resentment.
"I'm sorry. I've been completely self centred." It was a small apology but Tony had to start somewhere. "Jon completely indulged my selfishness. We were both completely and utterly absorbed in our work before you came along. Work has been my coping mechanism. I needed to loose myself in the comfort of being someone else. Its always easier than dealing with your own pain."
The expression on his son's face softened somewhat. "You were grieving." said Alex reasonably. "I would have stayed away. I want you to be happy, papa. How could you be happy with me? I ... I'm completely lost. Jon meant so much to me to." Alex looked at Tony. His papa was thinner too. His body had changed in subtle ways. Alex knew he had taken up dancing quite seriously in the last eight months. "Are you working?"
"Yes, I'm late for work as it is. TV series, guest spot for a whole series, the regular actor had to go back to England to sort out his life. Divorce and custody battle." Tony then stopped talking and looked hard at his son. "Nice diversion tactics there. I'll always talk about work. How bad are your legs today? A seven or an eight." Tony had noted the greyish tinge to Alex's face, the pinched look around his eyes. His son was in pain. Something Tony suspected only he would notice, Alex was an expert at avoidance and diversion. Alex just stared at Tony with his flat emotionless face. Tony went to the door and asked the Agents waiting there "You mentioned a doctor? My son is exhausted and in pain, which is not a good combination."
Alex let the medic examine him. Alex took the offered painkillers. He really needed to sleep. He felt like a stranger in his own body and wondered if the last ten months destroyed his relationship with his papa?
The older agent talked to Tony Fletcher. "We will need to talk to your son in a couple of days. Alex has been given permission to stay in the United States, his visa has not been revoked." The older agent then handed over his card. "My name is Arnie Graves. The card has my home number on as well. Get the kid to see a doctor, I'll send through a couple of names for therapists with Departmental clearance." The guy rubbed his face. "We all seemed to have let Alex down on this one." The guy looked at the kid, who looked broken and afraid of any comfort and reconciliation.
Alex was groggily mumbling in what Tony recognised to be russian as he pulled into his parking space at the studio, only two hours late for work. His assistant Michael was there with rewritten script pages looking harrassed.
As soon as Tony exited his Range Rover Michael let loose with a string of instructions and directions which Tony pointedly ignored, instead going to the trunk and removing a wheelchair. Tony carried on as Michael's voice stilled.
"Umm Tony? What's going on?"
Tony opened the passenger side door to reveal his sleepy son. "Michael, this is Alex, my son. As you can see Alex is severely jet lagged and has taken some pain medication and needs to sleep. I was hoping he could crash in your office. He does snore and talks in his sleep, luckily mostly in russian, sometimes other languages." Alex smiled sloppily in his drugged haze at his papa and clumsily made it into the wheelchair supported by Tony as Michael watched, unsure if help was needed.
Tony then continued, "I made everyone here aware I needed today and tomorrow off for family reasons last week. I have not seen my son for five months and he's been missing, presumed being an irresponsibly stupid teenager for the last three months. I've just sat through a delightful interview with Homeland Security and I will not discuss work until Alex is settled and you promise to watch over him. Otherwise I am taking Alex home and you can stick this job where the sun does not shine." Tony smiled brilliantly as Michael quickly nodded in agreement with the actor.
Michael's office contained his desk, several chairs, filing cabinets and an overflowing bookcase, but also an old sofa. There, Alex lay down with Tony removing his prosthetics. The youth started talking in fast slurred French to Tony, who replied in soothing tones. Tony laid a rug over his son and then stroked through his son's blond hair as the teenager started to snore gently. The quiet scene was disturbed by the assistant director entering but before his tirade at the errant actor could start Tony put his finger to his lips and then took the pages of script from Michael and turning to make his way to wardrobe and make-up.
Tony was now all business. He arrived on set with a face like thunder, waiting for the director to start. Sam Turner, the director was another ex-pat and knew about Tony's errant son.
In a soft understanding voice Sam queried, "Everything OK Tony?"
"No. God no. Alex is a mess. I don't need this today, but I'm here lets get on with it." Within ten minutes the other actors were at their marks. After only thirty minutes to memorize the script, Tony was word perfect, his characterisation spot on. Sam knew Tony was a trooper in every sense of the word.
At their first break things went down hill as a trumped up exec came and made a comment about Tony being late for work. Sam watched Tony smile, the exec was expecting the usual soft apologies and the easy gracious tones of the lovely man everyone knew Tony Fletcher to be, but today Tony was worried and not in the mood for fools.
"Ahh, Mr. Stein. Thank you kindly for your words at this time. Funny as my contract is currently being written at the moment. I was employed for three days work on your fine televisual serial, three weeks ago. Fill in, temporary character and all that. This work has over run by ten days already and no updated contract of employment. So, my character is now integral to the series, for some reason the writer has decided I must fill in because Nick has gone home. I'm happy to work, always. This morning my son, you know Alex, seventeen, physically disabled with psychological problems, arrived at LAX. I did arrange two days off work, Alex is difficult at the best of times. He was pulled in by Homeland Security this morning. Hence the two hour delay. I came into work even though I should be at home with my son repairing our strained relationship. Urgent, essential, critical rewrites or some such reasons were given and here I am. My son is asleep in Michael's office at the moment. Alex suffers from ghost pain in his legs, it can be quite bad. Worse if Alex is stressed. Alex hates flying. So he's stressed and in pain and still I am at work, so keep your nasty little comments to yourself or my equity representative will be filing harassment charges against you."
Hugo Stein just stood and stared at Tony Fletcher at this point. Tony appeased by the shocked silence, then finished, "Good, I'm glad we have reached an understanding. I really need to get these scenes nailed because I want to go home." It was then that another four pages of script arrived and everyone held their breath as Tony accepted the additional dialogue.
Sam took his copies of the additional pages and then stated, "We'll worry about the first scenes then we'll take a break before starting on the new stuff. OK places everyone." Tony put his script on his chair and carried on like the professional he was.
Alex looked at his watch, it was 6:30pm Pacific time if his math was correct and it usually was spot on. He put on his legs and went in search of the restroom. He looked better than he did this morning, still too thin and he could do with more painkillers. He sat on the toilet and massaged his left thigh, the muscle spasming. He arrived back in the office and sat on the wheelchair as Michael arrived back.
The man looked unsure and nervous. "Umm, OK Tony has about 20 to 30 minutes until a set meal break, then a couple more scenes to film. Would you like to eat?"
At this point Alex's stomach rumbled. "Yeah I could eat."