6th April 2010

This rehearsal space, a former cinema, was now a hired venue for a party and was filled with Tony's friends and family. The actor had reached 60 and showed no signs of slowing down and was as busy and as popular as ever. Dylan, Alex and his cousins, Micky and Patty, had organised the entertainment portion of the night. The start was a rendition of Supertrouper with the three of them accompanied by Cassian's band in full 1970's regalia. Alex could barely walk in his silver platform boots and silver flared jumpsuit was just beyond ridiculous. Abba had always been a guilty favourite of Alex's, a passion shared by both Jon and Tony. The three, the Fletcher-Smith family, had bonded over those pop songs.

The twenty-three year old graduate student thanked god for his preparation with a vocal coach. He would not be embarrassing himself in front of the great and good of Hollywood and most of the lovies of the London stage.

The light show meant the audience was not in view. As the performers exited the stage the narration of Tony's life with slide show started, Dylan was in his element describing the fact the two had met at prep school, in the sixties.

23rd December 2008

Fear was a fucking with Alex's mind. Worry was making him a nervous wreck, noticeable enough for him to be medicated for it. He ended up googling and watching an in depth video of a cardiologist inserting an implantable cardioverter defibrillator on youtube. His research helped him discover that he could have the whole procedure done under a local anaesthetic. He had almost had a full on panic attack when he had seen the cardiologist for his check up, causing another episode of palpitations and tachycardia resulting in him fainting. The 24 hours under observation in hospital had led to the scheduling of surgery two days after Christmas because of his heightened risk of clots and a stroke. He had wanted to put off surgery until going back to England but he had no way out of the procedure after it became known the true effect on his health. He was sleeping 12 to 14 hours a day, when he normally slept 6-7 hours a night, he could not walk far and had completely changed his quality of life for the worse.

He had a nap after his research. It was going to be OK, nothing to worry about. He could chat with the surgeon and the anaesthetist, while getting carved up. A four inch incision, was going to be just another scar.

Harry checked on his patient, Alex was fast asleep, a combination of his heart condition and the prescribed tranquillisers. The first guests had already arrived for this seasonal party. Tony stood by the door to the hall, watching as Harry checked the vitals of his patient. The actor looked about the room, messy with dirty cups, half drunk bottles of water, a few discarded items of clothing and a pile of notes by the bed. He smiled to himself over the familiarity of his son's chosen decoration, with a poster for London 2012 on the wall beside a poster for NASA. Alex's room, which four years ago had been converted from the former games room with its access to the rear terrace and pool and to the kitchen and entrance hall. Separate from the main reception rooms, Gerard's office, the home cinema and the bedrooms upstairs. The fact it was out of the way upset this over protective father, who would have preferred the closeness he had enjoyed in the hotel suites earlier in the month. Harry's sofa bed was neatly clear of clutter. Only the large first aid kit by the sofa betrayed the fact the nurse was in residence at all.

The nurse closed the door and spoke in a soft tines to his boss. "His heart monitor is attached and working fine. If his tachycardia starts, it will alert my phone. His new inhaler has worked wonders on his asthma. He's gained 2s pound since coming home. I think we can say he'll be fully independent again after his surgery."

"I pray Alex is back to his usual self by March. Otherwise, he'll have to transfer here to finish his PhD. Not ideal, as Cambridge is the place for him to study his chosen field. I think he chose Cryptography over a single conversation with Jon over future developments in that field. He is his father's son in every sense. I would not change that. I would never have encouraged him to be an actor, its an awful profession to get any work in. I was forty before I was taken seriously." The worried father smiled at the capable and always on call nurse. "Come relax for a few hours while Alex sleeps. Modern technology means you can finally relax a touch."

Alex woke disorientated after his very vivid dream, he had been playing football in Clapham with James Hale and Tom Harris. A scene from another life, one of few happy interludes from his unhappy childhood. "Fuck you, Ian!" was exclaimed to the dark bedroom. How he had wanted to play for Chelsea, his place as an apprentice denied by his uncle. The still tired invalid sat up and stretched his neck, pulling the comforter off to rub his aching legs. Feet long gone burned like fire. The medication for neurological pain under lock and key in the utility. Alex had no problem picking the pitiful lock on the cabinet. In fact he was sure he could crack the safe in Gerard's office, no problem. He winced as he pulled himself onto his wheelchair. Pain bordering on a seven stroke eight out of ten. He gritted his teeth as he exited his bedroom, not caring on his grim, pained expression, his dragon breath, horrific bed head or the fact he was wearing seven year old worn X-men pyjamas and no prosthetics.

The kitchen was a war zone, the bustle of the caterers and waiting staff stopped as Alex passed through with his hoarse voice commanding "Have a care…Cripple coming through." He made a picture as he balanced on his knees to grab the medicine cabinet keys off the wall, where Connie kept her set. With no grace whatsoever, he collapsed like a sack of potatoes back into sitting position and rested for a moment before exiting to the adjourning store and pantry.

"No self medicating, Cub. House rules. Relax and I'll get you a glass of water." Stated the commanding tones of the ex-SAS instructor. Alerted to the fact Alex's heart rate had spiked due to his exertions.

"Coke. I need to eat or those bastard things will eat away my stomach lining. The last thing I need is ulcers on top of everything else. Fuck, what to eat? Not rice cakes… any decent sandwiches on offer? I could murder a plate of coronation chicken right now. God, I crave cheese and onion crisps, I haven't eaten a packet of those since the 27th May 2001."

Alex had eaten and drunk his fill, the strong painkillers, making everything distant. He finally paid attention to the party. "Is that Cass singing? I want to see that."

"Come on, I'll put a rug on your legs and wheel you through. Party is in full swing, are you prepared for your big reveal?"

"Fuck off, Sergeant or I'll show you my killing face, which is my poo face really. Constipation is my bane, worse than even than Wolf's vicious hazing." Alex then grinned with his best approximating of an ear splitting Hollywood smile and chanted "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag…" The Sergeant joining in with his deep, slightly flat baritone.

…..

2010

The slide show stopped. Dylan's voice cracked with emotion. "On January 17th 2004, Tony's beloved Jon died during Operation Herrick in Afghanistan. Casualties that day included M-Unit of the SAS, four deaths and one seriously injured by an IED near Mazarin Sharif. Jon's name is on the Remembrance Wall at Credenhill as an honorary member of Special Forces. Let us not forget the continuing sacrifice and duty of our Armed Forces at home and abroad."

This was not an 'annus horribilus' but eighteen months of grief, change, triumph, new love, stability and tragedy. Being a parent, like marriage is the rough with the smooth in sickness and in health. Alex had conquered the adversity of serial illnesses as a teenager, the summer of 2005 saw him hit his lowest point."

Alex then strode on stage, acting as decoy as the band resumed their places. He had changed into his alternative rock outfit, electric guitar slung on his back and a prop pill bottle filled with red and green Skittles, which he downed dramatically in front of his godfather. He got to the microphone, took a drink of water and stated "Err, yuck… shittles. Woah, sugar rush."

His guitar was live and he strummed a chord before making his opening statement "Let me set the record straight, my episode of suicidal behaviour had nothing to do with me throwing my teddy out of the cot over Tony moving in with Gerard as that extremely homophobic article in the Hollywood Reporter postulated and everything to do my shitty life choices. As most of you are well aware my life before Tony rescued me was less than ideal. During my four month period off grid in 2004, I crossed paths with one of my abusers, a man who had raped me… more than just a physical act, he had completely mind fucked me as well. The epitome of every parent's worst nightmare, as he and I were once again lovers. He… he had been the first person to ever said he loved me. He is a complete psychopath and to a lonely, abused child, he was a big deal. My actions had consequences and Tony and Gerard picked up the pieces from that disaster. It has taken a shit load of therapy to get I was played. Keep repeating the word survivor until you believe it… I am a survivor. A million thank you's to my wonderful papa and not so wonderful step dad. Nothing personal Gerrard but Tony is my number one guy."

With a wave of distortion Alex let rip with the opening rift of Plug in Baby.

The song finished, Alex had hit his notes, not as magnificent as his hero Matt Bellamy, but his voice coach would be proud. He then smiled "Happy Birthday Papa. I have another special birthday present for you. In four months time you are going to be a grandfather. Please meet your granddaughter." On the screen on the stage a graining ultrasound scan showed the alien form of a 20 week old foetus. "Shot gun wedding on Tuesday at Marylebone Registry Office. Yes, Papa you had noted CC has put on weight, it has everything to do with her eating for two. Our planned long engagement has been shortened due to this unexpected bump. Now, Dylan can get on with his lovely monologue."