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“Compassion is a weakness your enemies will not share.”
Scott could always feel more than the other kids could. His mom loved telling this story to her friends about the time when he was around three, Scott was able to calm down a rabid dog running around the playground. She would have him reach out his hands like he did with the dog and everyone would laugh and pat him on the head, telling him that he would make a great hero someday.
Why would anyone expect less from him? Why should he expect any less from himself?
There were a few facts about Scott’s life that he wished weren’t true. Ones that cause him to lay awake countless nights, just like this one.
Scott should’ve been able to save his mom, and he should’ve been a hero. He wants to do good, to be good, but it feels every time it’s one step closer and three steps back. He’s stuck now for the foreseeable future, with a bunch of delinquents and psychopaths.
And lying on his bunk in a room that isn’t his and people he doesn’t know, this hits him. It’s hit him before but it feels like every time it hits, it hurts more than the last. It makes him feel like he's dead. A ghost floating aimlessly through space.
On nights like these, Scott misses his mom more than he thinks he can handle. More than he knows he can handle. It’s like a beating pressure weighing down on his chest, pressing him further and further into the mattress. Her laugh ringing in his ears, smile pounding in front of his eyes.
And sitting here, locked tight into the bowls of Eichen House. He wants to go back and save her. Get her back. Avoid this hell and make a batch of pancakes in the kitchen of their starter home. Watch the news while finishing his application to Beacon High.
And laying here, trying to ignore the sound of the water pipes within the walls, Scott hears a small creek of the floorboards next to the ladder up to his bunk. Turning over to the side as slowly and naturally as possible, he reaches into a small rip in his mattress and pulls out a plastic fork he and Stiles had fashioned into a knife.
He feels a pressure on his leg and whips around to catch the perpetrators wrist, holding it tightly and–
“Scott! Scott it’s Liam please!” Liam whisper-shouts, falling back a little before thrusting himself forward, desperately clutching Scott's other wrist.
“Liam?! What the hell are you doing?” Scott whispered back, pulling him fully onto the bed with a bit of struggle.
“I- is that a knife?” Liam stared at the weapon with apprehension.
“Yeah, for emergencies or whatever–” Scott informed him, laying back down and stuffing the back into his mattress. “-what are you doing here anyway? You should be in bed, you just got out of solitary too.” Scott pulled Liam further into the bed, concerned. Obviously. Even Stiles lets it sit for a week or two after he gets out of solitary. (Something that happens too often for Scott’s liking.) So if Liam is breaking the rules so soon it must be something serious. Maybe someone’s threatening him, or someone’s in trouble.
Shit.
“I know, it’s just–” Liam looked around, most likely for eavesdroppers even though no one (other than Scott) would be up at this ungodly hour. Well, maybe Stiles. But the slight snore that Scott could hear between breaths indicated that he was most likely asleep.
“I miss… my dad. I dunno. It's really stupid it’s just… solitary, it made me think of them and I haven’t thought of anything else since.” Liam’s whispering became faster and more distressed the farther into his confession he got. And if that didn’t ring home for Scott in all the worst ways. He misses his mom so much, some days it feels like a sickness.
But there is one thing that his mom will always inspire him to do. Dead or Alive.
Help people. Protect people.
Scott couldn’t do that for his mom, so he’ll do it for everyone else.
“Liam, it’s not stupid. It’s not dumb. Okay? It’s not gonna stop hurting, but one day you're gonna look back and miss them, but you’ll be happy with who you are. And you’ll know that they are happy too. Wherever they are.” Scott began, gathering Liam and placing him at his side,
“But, in the meantime you have us. Me, Stiles, Lydia? Jackson– in theory. You're not alone. And I promise I will always be by your side.”
Scott can still be a hero.
The Lunchroom, soggy mashed potatoes, and steak.
The food made Scott want to projectile vomit, but skipping a meal is a one way ticket to an extra training class, replacing what would be dinner. Scott needs to be strong, because someone has to do it. Stiles has been putting up a protest for nearly three years now, Jackson and Liam have… issues, and you may as well ask a brick wall for something before asking Cora. Meaning that he and Lydia are the only voices of reason in their group.
And as soon as Scott can get out of here, he is. So he needs to be able to take care of himself.
Especially if what Allison has been telling him about the outside world is true, with an attack on East Harbour by Argent and Huntress leaving thousands to move to South End, only increasing South End's homeless and crime rates.
Although Allison hadn’t gotten a letter from her dad in a while… or if she had, she didn’t tell him. He was inclined to believe that she just hasn’t gotten any. She could technically send one to him,but it was risky and she could end up in major trouble if she’s caught.
Last resorts and all that.
To be honest, Scott doesn’t know how much he really wants to go into the real world, not alone at least. Without Stiles, or Allison, Liam. They may as well be family at this point.
And in two months that’s gonna change, they could all feel it. Scott got here first, and had the shortest sentence (Despite the many extensions for ‘bad behaviour’). Stiles got here around the same time, but he’s been more… more vocal than Scott about his opinions on the way Eichen is run. He’s in here for another year, at least.
But Scott is gonna build them all a life, he’s sure that Stiles will shape up before his sixteenth birthday and as long as they all get out before eighteen then they can fight the system from the outside. Scott can go to hero school, a little late admittedly, but it still counts!
And with Stiles’ motivation then there is nothing that can stop them from saving the rest of these kids.
“Oh my God, Scott those little bastards did it again.” Stile sat at the table he had reserved with a trip and a huff, lunch tray rattling on the metal table, ringing throughout the lunchroom.
“Oh yeah, let me guess… steak?” Scott replied, picking up his fork, holding it in a light grip.
“STEAK.” Stiles shouted incredulously, flailing his hands back from the table, knocking his lunch tray aside accidentally while flailing his arms, making an even louder noise and drawing glances towards them.
The rest of the group was not far behind, tired expressions indicating this had been going on for a while. Allison pointedly didn’t make eye contact with him, going as far as to sit on the opposite end of the table. Zero contact from her dad must be hitting her harder than he thought.
“Stiles-” Scott began half heartedly, taking his eyes off Allison for a moment.
“Don’t bother Scott, he's been bitching about this for a while. Almost attacked the lunch ladies.” Liam muttered underneath his breath so Stiles couldn’t hear.
“Stiles, you can have my food– I haven’t touched the potatoes yet.” Scott slid his tray over to Stiles.
“It’s fine dude, I’m not even hungry. Injustice will do that to you.” Stiles slid the tray back to Scott, bitterness coating his voice.
“No. Eat. We have training together tonight.” Scott remarked, pushing the tray back.
“Wait seriously?” Stiles whined, tray thankfully staying in front of him this time, “It’s like they’re trying to kill me.” Stiles’ crosses his arms and picks up his fork and pokes around in the potatoes.
“Please, we wouldn’t be that lucky.” Jackson snarks from beside Lydia, who smacks him over the head for it.
“Keep talking Jackson, we’ll see how hard you cry when another sidekick comes around for charity work.” Stile shot back angrily. Jackson makes a move to jump over the table at him, held back by Lydia's hand.
“They’d think you guys are the youngest here. Stop bickering, Liam just got out of solitary and he does NOT need to be associated with any of this for the time being.” Lydia huffed, shooting each of the boys a pointed glare. Liam receding back in his chair a little.
“Who cares if we get in trouble, Lyds. Face it, we’re never getting out of here. We’re too ‘dangerous’.” Jackson muttered spitefully.
“Hey! I’ll be out in a month and a couple weeks.” Scott reminded the table, Lydia looked happy for him. But everyone else kinda sagged, even Jackson (Maybe not, Scott likes to look on the positive side though.)
“Don’t be sad, I can build something for you guys to come out to. Take down the system from the outside. Just like we planned, yeah? We’ll get you out by sixteen at least. No way you don’t get out by then.
“You say that McCall, but what happens when Stilinski is two months away from eighteen and his time just got extended?” Jackson spat at Scott. Lydia looked at the table this time, oh god that meant she agreed with him.
“We’ll figure it out if that happens.” Scott says back, Liam glancing at him nervously. He gives Liam a reassuring smile, Liam offering him a grimace in return.
“Can all of you just shut up? I have a headache.” Cora groans out her head falling to rest on the table. Lydia looks at her with concern, making eye contact with Scott. Not good.
“Training go okay?” Scott asked delicately, Cora lifting her head up and putting it in her hands before looking at Scott cynically.
‘They kept me there for three hours. I wanna hurl myself off a building.” Cora mutters to herself, and the mood at the table drops.
“Hey, it’ll be okay Cora.” Scott tried, Jackson giving him an unbelieving look and Stiles cringing back in his seat. Lydia just turned to her food again with an eyeroll.
“Okay? OKAY?! McCall, my life might as well be over. My family would rather me die here than anything else. I’m never getting out. Stiles is never getting out, the heroes would never let that happen. Jackson, you, Lydia, hell even Liam? You're the lucky ones. You get to have some sort of life after this. Me? As soon as I turn eighteen they’re shipping me off to the Beacon, never to be seen again. So don’t TELL ME. THAT IT’LL BE OKAY.” Cora finished screaming, the entire lunchroom had gone quiet, listening into the rant. The orderlies rush towards Cora and pull her away from the table. Kicking and screaming insults at Scott.
Scott stands up to maybe go after her, but an Orderly puts a hand on his shoulder, Stiles reacting to this and shooting up from his seat.
“You two may as well come with us, training is close enough.” One of the Orderlies states steering Scott away from the table with Stiles.
“Close enough?! It’s one o’clock douchebag, our training is at four!” Stiles shouts at the man, who just gives him a blank look and shoves them closer to the exit.
Scott looks back making eye contact with Liam and Allison, both who were looking worried. Mouthing ‘It’s okay’ to both of them, before the doors closed cutting him off from his friends.
His family.
Training was rough, unforgiving. Painful.
Scott remembers the first time he was put in training, when he didn’t have Stiles, Lydia or Allison. Just a kid, shoved in a room and told to use his abilities. The Orderlies laughed at him when his ankle cuff shocked him for doing so, before unlocking it for real.
The training room was a wide open space, covered with hard white mats. Scuff marks that would mar the surface of the room would always be gone by the time Scott came again.
The scuff marks were usually from his partner, Scott’s ability didn’t manifest physically. Meaning that they always took him to train with a partner. And because of that Scott would always end the sessions with broken bones, and a massive headache.
Thanks to Stiles, Scott knew that there was more… extensive harm done to him other than just a headache.
A couple years ago, Stiles had broken into the Head Orderlies office. It is the only place in the building with a functioning phone, and Stiles wanted to talk to his dad.
Despite Jackson's remarks that Stiles’ dad didn’t want to talk to him back.
Stiles being Stiles got distracted and caught, but he was caught when he took a peek at his and his friends personal files. Stiles confided most of what he saw to each person privately, except for Scott. Scott got to know everything he saw.
Stiles' abilities affected his prefrontal cortex pretty directly, making it a risk for him to develop more antisocial behaviors. Which could eventually end in him developing a Sociopathic disorder, if he continues to use his power recklessly.
Which he has.
Lydia’s powers had the potential to make her go crazy, like, properly insane. Stiles couldn’t make sense of the scientific jargon, but Lydia could. And she wouldn’t tell them anything about it.
Scott had started developing amnesia as a result of his ability. He couldn’t even tell that he was losing time, but he clutched onto his mothers face as hard as he could.
Jackson was an anomaly, having no abilities, but plenty of issues. Scott would know.
He got a fistful of those issues on Jackson's first day here.
But training was a different type of fear ever since then. Instilled in him every time he used his ability, of what he would lose next.
“Alright. Subject 0124 and 0136 ready for testing.” The Orderly stated. A hint of a smirk on his face, mirroring the scowl on Stiles’.
The Orderly gestured to Scott. Scott started preparing himself for what comes next, closing his eyes.
“Pain.” The Orderly said, and though Scott couldn’t see it, he knew the Orderly would be pointing at Stiles. And Stiles would be bracing himself.
Scott opened his eyes.
A million strings appeared in the air, all sorts of colors connecting back to Stiles. Some strayed towards the Orderlies but Scott knew better than to pull those. He focused on the strings, finding a small grey one and a thick blue one. Reaching out towards it he pulled.
Scott flew backwards slamming against the wall of the facility, feeling something crack. Stiles was screaming bloody murder, Scott slowly realizing his fingers had stayed connected to the strings. Quickly letting go, Stiles collapsed to the ground. Scott also felt the pressure against his chest move off, and he slipped to the ground.
He could feel the bruising on his ribs, he was lucky it hadn’t shattered again.
Stiles was on the ground, shaking. And Scott could feel the strings still vibrating from his pull. He tried to rush over to him, but the Orderlies intercepted kicking him back across the room.
Stiles slowly got up, tear streaks on his face.
“Again.” The Orderly said again, this time setting a headset around Scotts head, wired connecting his brain to some sort of meter in their hand.
Scott hesitated, staring at Stiles.
“He said, again.” One of the Orderlies repeated.
Stiles gave Scott a small nod.
And Scott closed his eyes.
Scott could always feel more than other kids could. At some point he was able to see everyone's strings. At some point he was able to touch them.
He remembers when his mom was sad, he would see her strings, vibrating and the happiest ones glowing. Calling out to him.
When his dad wasn’t there.
When she wasn't able to pay their bills.
When Scott was hurt from the bullies at school.
Scott would pull on the string and his mom would wipe her tears, and turn back to the sink. That's when Scott would come in to turn on music and help her with the dishes. When the pressure settled in his head and his lungs, the pounding behind his eyes increased. He couldn’t care because he and his mom were together and they were happy.
Scott’s ribs hurt, his head hurt. His wrist, his leg. He and Stiles were forced to spar at some point. He couldn’t tell, Scott had blacked out at that point.
But at the end of the day it didn’t matter if he couldn’t walk, if he was in so much pain that he couldn’t open his eyes. Stiles was hurt. So Scott got up from the mats. Straightened his leg, and held Stiles’ body up with his hands. Slinging him gently over his shoulder. And he walked out of the training room.
Scott had set Stiles on his bunk and even though it wasn’t close to lights off yet, he got up on his own and lay down. Living in the pain.
Bracing himself he would look for Stiles’ strings, find the good ones and pull.
His body burned from the electricity shooting through his body.
He could hear Liam and Jackson returning with the rest of the group and settling in the bunk next to them. Liam would be worrying of course, Jackson would too, but he wouldn’t admit it.
Reaching out he grabbed their strings. His ankle flares up again, his body seizing in pain.
Scott already knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.
But it’s okay, because he would do anything for his family.
Scott can be a hero.