Who's in Trouble Now?

By Spense

"But dammit, he's always screwing up . . !"

"Tut, tut, language Virgil," Scott Tracy commented lightly as he followed his complaining younger brother into the study. "But, I've got to admit, I know what you mean . . ."

"Come on, Scott, it's worse than that, and you know it." Gordon bumped into Scott from behind as Scott slowed by the windows and looked out at the sunset.

"Look where you're going Gordo!" Scott complained mildly, as he turned around to look at his younger brother.

Gordon was fussing with his small, compact CD player, that he'd just noticed that Alan had borrowed, and apparently broken, during the recent, eventful Spring break. He looked up in annoyance at Scott's mild tone. "Give it up, Scott. I've heard you often enough cussing Alan out when Dad's not around. He breaks everything and you know it. Don't tell me you wouldn't rather have Mom back instead of their 'mistake'! You know as well as I do that they'd planned to stop at four kids. And Mom died, and we got Alan instead. Five years younger. Poor trade off, if you ask me, and I've heard you grouse about it often enough too! So don't give me the 'look at both sides' talk."

Virgil looked angrily at Scott as well. "Scott, we just finished 10 hours of work on TB2 because of Alan's mishandling. You know why Dad won't let him around them!"

Scott ran his hands through his dark hair, and said resignedly, "Yeah, I know. Part guilt, part wariness."

"Guilt because he feels the same way about Alan that we do, and doesn't want him to get hurt . . ." Virgil kicked in.

"And part wariness because, let's face it, Alan can destroy anything he touches without much effort. Like this!" Gordon held up the damaged CD player for the other two to see.

Scott just signed. They were right. They'd had this conversation often enough. The conversation was cut off as Scott saw movement in the doorway; Jeff Tracy examining some papers while entering the room. Before he could greet his father, Jeff was saying, "Got them right here Alan, I'll e-mail them to you . . ."

Jeff broke off, taking a good look at his youngest son's face in the vidphone facing the door. "Alan, are you alright . . . ? Alan? ALAN!"

Scott felt the blood drain from his face. And as he glanced at his brothers, he saw the same pale look on their faces. He heard a shocked whisper from Virgil at his side, "Alan . . ?" How could they have missed Alan on the vidphone when they walked in? They would have been looking right at him as they crossed to the windows!

Jeff looked up from the screen which had been disconnected at the other end of the transmission and realized that his other son's were in the room. Then he looked at their white faces. "What happened?" He asked sternly. When nobody volunteered, he thundered, 'NOW!"

Scott, Vigil and Gordon all looked at each other. Gordon gulped and looked away. Virgil just shut his eyes in pain. Scott looked back to his father and took a deep breath. How could they have been so stupid! This was not going to be an easy fix. "Dad, we really screwed up."

Fifteen year old Alan Tracy's finger hit the disconnect button on his computer without any conscious prompting from his brain. His dad's face disappeared, and all sound blessedly vanished. Alan, subject of his brother's loud, angry, and just overheard conversation, sat alone in his dorm room in Wharton Academy in absolute shock. His mind whirling he started at the picture of space on his computer screen, his mind refusing to take in what he'd just heard. He just sat, stunned, unable to process the last 5 minutes. A small red light on the screen suddenly started blinking. Knowing beyond a doubt that it was his father trying to reestablish contact, Alan jumped up and stepped backwards, as though the computer would bite him. He couldn't talk to him. He just couldn't.

Alan ignored the light and headed for the door. He about mowed down Fermat who was just coming in with his rush out the door and down the hall.

"Hey Alan," Fermat began, then watched in puzzlement as Alan disappeared down the steps. Fermat frowned, then shook his head and entered the room. Seeing the light on the computer he touched it and saw Jeff Tracy's face come to life, surrounded by Scott, Virgil and Gordon.

"Hi Mr. Tracy," he said cheerfully. Before he could say anything more, Jeff Tracy overrode him.

"Hello Fermat, put Alan on please." Fermat looked in surprise at the older man, and noted the look of worry in his eyes.

"I'm sorry Mr. Tracy, but Alan just left." Fermat's protection of Alan was automatic. Alan had always seemed to be trouble. Today didn't look to be any different.

"Do you know where he went?" Jeff persisted. Fermat frowned internally. This didn't sound good.

"No, Mr. Tracy, I don't know. He was leaving as I was coming in. He didn't say anything."

Jeff Tracy paused for a moment. "Alright, thank you Fermat. Just . . . Just have him call me as soon as you see him again. Tell him it's important."

Fermat watched in consternation as Virgil Tracy gave a short snort at the comment about 'important' and was cuffed on the back of the head by Gordon. This really didn't look good. He answered slowly, "Ok, Mr. Tracy. I will."

"Thank you." Jeff Tracy gave Fermat a strained smile and signed off. Fermat looked at the bland screen for a moment and thought worriedly, 'Geez, Alan, what have you done now?'