Two Sides to Every Story

by Spense

I am forever fascinated with the thought process involved in both sides of a conflict. There are always two sides to every story, and each believes that they are absolutely correct. Communication issues, personal history, past interactions, and any number of other factors contribute to how one party will see the other and what they present. So often, what is said, is not what is actually meant. However, the truth is inevitably right in the middle, and compromise is only achieved which each discovers this fact.

This could be read as either TV or Movie verse, but I'm using the Movie Verse ages because they mesh better with the plot, and make it more believable. However, all the characters are older. In this case, Alan is 21.

THE INCIDENT

"What do you mean I can't join IR?" Alan was more bewildered than anything else, as he sat across from his father's big desk in his home office in the spacious apartment the family kept there.

His father looked back at him seriously. "You heard me. You know nothing is just a given in this family. It has to be earned." Jeff absolutely loathed having to do this, but Alan was still so impulsive. Jeff just shuddered at the thought of his youngest son on a rescue.

"So, why . . ." Alan stumbled as he spoke, hardly comprehending, "Why did you let me believe I could? That, I'd be . . ." Alan couldn't even finish.

"I never did," Jeff Tracy said quietly, hating the disappointment he saw in his youngest son's face.

"But you did!" Alan's voice was rising. "What about 'if you graduate with honors', or 'just keep doing what you're doing, you'll get there', and everything else that you said! Hell, I've had my pin since I was 14. Or was that just a farce?" Alan challenged, anger building.

"No, it wasn't, and you know it!" Jeff's voice was beginning to rise in spite of himself. How could this particular kid always get the better of him? He always managed to get a rise out of him.

"How? Tell me how I was supposed to know!"

"Alan, you know you've always been impulsive. You've always had trouble with your temper. Yes, you've done fine with the academics . . ." Jeff tried to moderate his tone, but Alan broke him off.

"Gee, I wonder where I got the temper from," Alan sneered, angry and upset, and looking at the crumbling of his life's ambition and expectations. "And 'fine' with academics? Graduating the top of my class is just 'fine'? Good grief, what more do you want from me?!"

Jeff took a deep breath, and mentally steadied himself as he looked at his furious son. Anger, fury, and . . . hurt. Jeff hated this. "Alan, you just need to grow up," he said patiently. "Yes, your grades were impressive. But remember, we already have an engineer - Virgil. A second is great for the organization, and helpful, but you just aren't ready, maturity wise."

The blatant double-standard of it just caught Alan flat. He just stared. His father had steered him towards engineering. He'd only decided to go that route specifically because of his father's advice! And as for maturity? Well . . . "How the hell would you know how mature I am? I didn't notice that you ever took an active role in my education. Or my life for that matter! As I recall, that was all Scott! He was the only one who ever showed up at school! I've hardly seen you in the last six years. You've been working when I've been on vacations, on shut up in your office. A 'hi there', is about all I rated!"

"Alan! That's enough! That's exactly what I'm talking about. You let your temper get the better of you. You know the situation we're in. Publicity, the need to hide IR, and attempting to just give you a shot at as normal an education as possible. With me around, you couldn't do that."

"Yeah, just keep telling yourself that," Alan snarled. "I noticed that it wasn't an issue with any of the others. And normal? When is anything normal about us?" Alan's voice was rising again.

"Exactly," Jeff pointed out with the force of his logic, doing his best to ignore the dig and trying to get a grip on his own rising temper. "Most kids your age are having to find their own way. They don't have money backing them, and they don't have the kind of options you do. You should make use of them; choose what you want to do."

"The only thing I've ever wanted to be is a member of International Rescue, and you know it!"

"Alan, maturity comes with experience. Who knows? In the future, there may be a time . . ."

Alan broke of his father's statement before he could finish. He didn't want to be thrown a bone, a small sliver of hope. "So you're saying that making my own way will prove I'm mature enough?" He still couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Jeff did his best to speak calmly. "What I'm saying is that not having everything handed to you forces maturity. It happened to me. I had to work my way to the top, and you never have. I can get you a job in Tracy Enterprises. Having to go to a job on a day to day basis could really help your self-control. You can live here in the apartment."

Again, Alan just stared in disbelief. Did his father really, truly not understand? "Are you that unaware of my actual life that you don't know I had multiple job offers the moment I graduated? And that I didn't want them? I turned everything down. I've always understood I'd work for IR!"

Jeff signed. "Alan, how would you handle a full time job? You can't even make it out of bed for your first class of the morning! I know how many times you skipped that first morning class for years!. You always practically failed your first class of the day. If you hadn't done extra assignments, you would have! I'm not stupid, and you may not think I'd paid attention to you, but I knew what was going on. The first time you lost your temper on a job, you'd be fired. Only family would put up with that. Tracy Enterprises would be a good first job for you. You need to learn control."

Again, Alan just looked at his father in disbelief. Did he really think that little of him? He answered himself almost immediately. Yes, he did. Well, in for a penny . . . "So you really think that little of me?" He asked slowly and carefully, echoing his thoughts out loud.

"No!" Jeff was shocked that Alan could even think of such a thing. "Alan, you're a fine young man. You're smart, athletically gifted, and you have a fantastic way with people. You're just young. You just need to grow up, learn impulse control."

Alan couldn't take any more of this. He knew it was picking at a wound, but he really needed to get this clear in his head. By this time, both men were standing, glaring at each other over Jeff Tracy's wide desk. "So you really think I wouldn't be able to hold a job outside of family?" Again, the carefully phrased question.

Jeff Tracy wasn't dumb. Far from it. He knew what his son was trying to get him to say, but he'd played this game for far longer, and with far more intimidating opponents than his youngest son.

"No, that isn't what I'm saying at all, and you know it, young man. What I'm saying is that your temper and lack of maturity will get you into trouble. You don't have any idea of how to deal with a business situation in the outside world. You just need experience."

If Jeff had stopped with that, things may have remained at a point where they could have been salvageable. But the Tracy temper had been inherited from somewhere, and Jeff Tracy's one blind spot was his sons. All of them. And his vaunted business acuity and intuition failed him at this moment, because of that very blind spot. And so, in the very finest Tracy tradition, Jeff opened his mouth and spoke, when keeping silent would have been the best in this particular situation.

"We've all spoiled you," Jeff shook his head in frustration. "Unlike your brothers, I suppose, because of the age difference between you and Gordon. We've indulged you far too much; given into your temper tantrums and whining. Unfortunately, now you have to pay the piper for our actions and bad decisions. It's time for you to grow up, Alan. And that isn't just my opinion. It's your brother's as well."

Alan started at his father in utter disbelief. The basic statement was bad enough. But the insinuation that all of his brothers agreed and were in on this? That was more than he could take. Or even comprehend at this moment.

The anger, hurt, and frustration he'd felt his whole life came into pinpoint focus. All the times he'd felt left out, left behind, not good enough, and essentially, the Tracy outcast, were so clear. He'd just gritted his teeth, and soldiered through, living for the moment when he would be an IR operative, and finally accepted as an equal.

Now, not only was that taken away, but any semblance of self-respect he had for himself was gone as he truly understood how his father felt about his abilities. And his brothers. Basically, whatever he did, anything he could achieve, would never matter. His father would never see him as good enough for anything Tracy. He'd be given a token job at Tracy Enterprises with a pat on the head, an appropriate title for a Tracy son, commensurate high salary, and ultimately be a figure head for the Tracy failure. And to realize that not only did his father believe this, but all of his brother's did as well, was just too much to take in.

All the work, the frustration, and the self-doubt surfaced in a wave of absolute anger. Well, no way in hell. He didn't have anything left to lose at the moment, so he may as well prove his father right, and actually get to have his say for once. Trying to earn a place certainly hadn't worked.

Crystal clear, and ice cold, Alan reached into his pocket for the token he had always carried with him. A token of hope for the future. "Well, father, since I'm that much of a liability, I'll relieve you of the burden of hiding me away at Tracy Enterprises . . . "

"Alan, don't be ridiculous," Jeff snapped, truly irritated, and breaking into his son's self-righteous tirade. Of course Alan was upset, but this was foolish. "You're being overly dramatic. You could be trying to do this all by yourself, after all. I could be telling you to get out and make it on your own."

"Well, then why the hell don't you? You're essentially doing that anyway, you just don't want to have to actually say the words!" Alan shouted furiously back. "And as for impulse control? We'll this is exactly how much control I do have."

And with that, Alan drew his arm back, and with unerring aim, and as hard an overhand throw as he had ever made, (causing his father to duck reflexively) he threw the IR pin given to him when he was 14, at a time he thought he'd proven himself, so hard that the tiny pin shattered the glass of the family portrait hanging on the wall directly behind his father, on impact.

And while Jeff was catching his breath from the crash and the power of the throw, Alan turned on his heel, marched out the door, through the living room, leaving the remains of his combination graduation, 21st birthday, and the transfer of his trust to his name, 'party', and his brothers jumping to his feet, shocked at the noise and his sudden appearance, strode through the marble foyer, and out the front door, slamming it behind him so hard it shook in the frame, never once looking back.