Chapter Text
Chapter 1: We're Not a Team Without You
The thing about Lottie Matthews is that she is an enigma.
And by that, I mean, she is a thing that does not make any fucking sense.
The way that I both understand and don’t understand what’s going on in that girl’s head just grinds my gears. It’s something I’ll need to have a good smoke session to process through. That is, if my mom hasn’t found my hidden stash already.. She probably has, given I was gone for darn near 19 months. She probably doesn’t want me to touch that shit ever again, and I can’t blame her I guess. She treats me like I’m this miracle thing since I survived out there against all the odds; but really I’m just another teen, same as usual. I just went through some crazy shit out in the Canadian Rockies. Some shit I’d rather block out than remember, if I’m honest. God, I wish I had my damn weed.
Nat Scatorrcio blows air sharply towards her forehead, trying to get her bangs out of her face. She slumps beside a tree just outside of the trailer she resides in with her mom. While being alone and not surrounded by others constantly has not been something that she has gotten used to since being home, she has begun to seek it out in solace more and more to clear her mind. Since quietness was pretty sacred out in the wilderness, she has since begun to enjoy the peace and quiet while at home now.
Before we were stranded in the wilderness and a bunch of crazy fucked up shit took place, we were just kids in boring old Wiskayok High in bumblefuck New Jersey. You know how the story goes, probably. None of us really stood out all that much, unless you were Lottie or Jackie. It depends on what people consider ‘standing out’ though- I mean, Shipman had her smarts and got accepted to Brown apparently before we left, Taissa was also smart as hell but kind of abrasive.
But if we’re talking other ways of standing out, well, Lottie had money. Her parents did at least, and Jackie.. Well.. Jackie was just good at commanding the room’s attention. Sometimes that would happen whether she wanted to or not, but I feel like more often than not, she ate that shit up. I can’t blame her, getting noticed must feel good at times. Taylor was a charmer, and she knew she could get away with whatever the hell she wanted if she just flashed those brown doe eyes of hers. I can't help but say that I miss her, poor thing. I hope she's.. in a good place or whatever. Rest well, Taylor. Anyway.
Lottie on the other hand.. I don’t think she ever wished for attention. I could be wrong, she did wear really nice clothes that sure as hell didn’t come cheap, but she didn’t seem to flaunt herself around or command attention. I think that’s the last thing she wanted, and yet, after we all got our asses hauled out of the wilderness, Lottie did get a lot of unwanted attention.
I guess in a weird way, it makes sense. Maybe at least. We did all witness her slice that damn frog scientist guy’s head in half with the axe. She seemed kind of detached when she did it, but oh boy did she celebrate in her own weird way. We saw the next day her covered in his blood, looking like a crazed toddler covered in red finger paint. Standing over his body like a vulture protecting its prey. Her eyes wide with.. I don’t even know.
I can’t help but think “What the actual fuck, Lottie.. What was that shit. Maybe you actually are a psycho like they say.”
Nat can’t help but find herself chuckling a bit, but then she stops, her eyes fixating on something hazily in the distance. She can’t quite place why, but she feels her eyes start to sting and blur over a little bit. Tears are welling in her eyes. She aggressively swats them away and tries to steady her breathing.
Hey..maybe it is good she’s locked up for now, but it’s weird that it’s been months since she was separated from the rest of us. It doesn’t feel fully like everything’s back to normal without everyone back here. Well, at least all of us that are still alive, that is.
It’s starting to feel a little excessive to keep her out in Norway.. Switzerland.. Wherever the hell she is.. this long. Though knowing the little tidbits of information I know about Lottie’s family, she’s got money out the wazoo and could probably afford years worth of inpatient therapy at this point. Maybe it’s one of those therapeutic retreats where they’re all eating caviar with cucumber face masks.. Who knows, maybe she’s actually enjoying herself out there. Maybe she doesn’t even want to come back- to see us, to see me- again.
I don’t know. Maybe we’re just triggering to be around or something. I wouldn’t blame her if she felt that way. Being around my teammates since our rescue has been weird to say the least. I feel like we can’t hide things as easily from each other because we all know what we saw. We see each other too deeply, know each other’s tells, our facial expressions- our movements too well. We’ve had to rely on our instincts, the tiniest signs of hostility. We've seen the monsters that live within each of us now. We know what we’re capable of doing, we can never unsee that.
Nat finds herself holding her breath and clenching at her hoodie, looks down, and exhales to try to release the tension in her body. She straightens up against the tree and tucks her knees under her chin, holding her arms securely around her legs. She looks at a few ants investigating her scuffed Doc Martens that are still firmly on the ground beneath her. She begins to get lost in thought again.
Maybe Lottie Matthews does make some sense to me after all. Maybe she’s not ready to be back here... I don’t think what she did was any worse than the rest of us. I don’t feel like she deserves to be unwillingly isolated from us, even though she did kill someone right in front of us. But hell- who hasn’t killed something or someone at this point, or isn’t responsible for someone’s death out there.
Hell, I feel responsible for the death of that other frog scientist guy who Hannah killed with the knife I gave her. I chose to trust that she’d escape with the chance I gave her, and instead she chose to do that. Fucking stab that guy in the head. I remember finding out and breaking down sobbing immediately, there's no one to blame but me for handing her that damn knife. I fucking killed Coach Ben when he asked me to. And trust me, I really, really didn’t want to do that, but I couldn’t help but cave when I saw how much he was suffering. Lots of the shit that happened out there didn’t need to happen and I feel that guilt, even if I wasn’t even always involved. I can't help but feel I'll carry that guilt with me until the day I die.
I’m just as bad as the rest of us. I’m just as bad as her. Maybe I should be locked up too at this rate.
Nat chuckles at herself, shakes her head, and braces herself to stand. She tries to wipe away any dirt that may be sticking to her backside and begins to make her way towards her trailer and into her little room in the back corner. Nat’s had a tendency for putting herself down relentlessly and demonizing herself, especially post rescue. She and many of her teammates hold a lot of survivor's guilt, but also something more sinister- like killer’s guilt- due to the fact that they watched so many people die, sometimes on purpose or at the hands of their teammates. After numerous visits to therapists, psychologists, and other forms of support after their rescue, the girls had slowly been given the opportunity to heal, but few were ready to fully take advantage of that yet. To speak about what happened would be to speak terrible things into existence, to make them feel real again, and many of the girls preferred to stay silent in the end. Anything, but opening that can of worms again.
Nonetheless, the story goes, that after the harrowing tale of the ‘96 Yellowjackets Plane Crash was made public, lots of crowdfunding and outpourings of support came in, and that included the funding for endless counseling and therapy for the team and their family members for years to come. This wasn’t without lots of fear mongering and slander spoken about the team being ruthless cannibals spreading around as well, but the girls knew that cannibalizing was never something that they wanted to do. It was never a thing that they were proud of, and it bothered them to know that so many people thought otherwise. Nonetheless, when help was offered, most of the other girls- and Travis- accepted it even if they felt unsure about it. Lottie was different though, her family could have afforded treatment for her easily without any outside help, so the Matthews family refused these offerings and took matters into their own hands.
Initially her parents had tried to let Lottie have a few weeks to ‘cool down’ and re-acclimate to being back at home without the stress of going back to school just yet, but when Lottie still refused to speak to anyone for a solid two weeks, her parents began to panic. And because of that, plus an endless plethora of money at the Matthews’ disposal, that meant, for who knows how long, Lottie was going to be isolated from the rest of the team.
Nat, now sitting cross legged on her bed, looks down at her hands and starts picking off some of the chipped nail polish on her thumbnail as she ponders this. She eyes a notebook on her bedside table and considers her next course of action.
I’m kind of embarrassed, but I can’t help but feel bad for her. She may have landed herself in the loony bin, but I can’t help but feel like we all pushed her to that level too. Even after what she’s done, and how dangerous I see that she can be, I kind of want to reach out to her. We were all monsters at one point or another out there, how is she really any different. I know that they must monitor who she calls or who she speaks to, but maybe a letter will get through to her if I can find a way to send it to the right place. Though I'm sure that information isn't public, so it's gonna take some digging.
I know we couldn’t be more different and I’m probably not exactly the first person she’d want to hear from most back home, but maybe I can at least let her know that I’m here to talk, if she wants that. I don’t know if I want to open those flood gates though, do I?
Nat remembers one of her last interactions that she had with Lottie. She and the rest of the team had been given black hoodies and caps to clothe themselves in, as they were transported immediately into a medical facility so that everyone could be monitored for surveillance in case they had sustained any injuries. Since many of the girls were malnourished, some ridden with parasites, suffering infections from wounds, some having extreme fatigue and many vitamin and mineral deficiencies in their blood, their hospital stay was at least a week or so, much longer than what they had originally thought.
While lots of news and media outlets tried to weasel their way into their hospital rooms, the Yellowjackets were protected heavily by law enforcement as well as interviewed about their experiences in the wilderness as part of protocol. Many of the girls were too shell-shocked, or too sick, to really give all that much information, but the police would take what they could get at this rate.
Being in the hospital was boring but at least it was safe.This lead to Nat and many of the others getting restless at night. While many folks were hooked up to IV drips during the day, at night time the medical team tried their best to allow them to get some sleep, as their bodies needed rest. This didn’t mean that shenanigans didn’t ensue though- for those who were less impacted by health issues, they were able to wander into other teammates’ rooms when not under close supervision.
Nat was pretty fortunate in that she hadn’t sustained any major injuries- she hadn’t been shot at, stabbed, or subjected to hypothermia other than when she and Lottie were out in the cold for too long in winter.. She was largely fine, give or take the fact that upon inspection, doctors found that she had been bitten by a tick at some point and was being watched for Lyme Disease. Other than that, Nat felt perfectly fine. One night, Nat decided to wander around the hallways, looking around to see if she could sneak into one of her teammates’ rooms.
She didn’t really care whose room she found, she just wanted some company. Because the media/press had posed such a privacy issue, none of the Yellowjackets’ names were written under the patient name spot under the signs on their doors. This was a bit stressful when it came to planning visits, though once someone had another person’s room number, they wouldn’t often forget it if they could. Nat decided to start off easy, by checking in on the person in the room next to her. At this rate, each of them had been pretty used to nurses coming and going from their rooms, as well as their parents too. Nat barging into someone’s room would probably not disturb them much.
Nat opened the door to room 215 just a crack, and once the light had shown a little on the patient’s face, all curled up in their bed, Nat was able to discern that it was Misty Quigley. Nat and Misty didn’t really get along- Misty saw Nat as yet another person that would probably bully her, and would act standoffish when Nat was around. Her little broken clear glasses frames were perched on her bedside table, and Misty looked impossibly small when wrapped around in all those blankets and surrounded by lots of pillows. Misty was clutching a pillow and was snoring lightly. Nat nodded to herself and crept back out the door, trying her best not to wake her. While she wanted company, she knew where she’d be appreciated and wanted, and where she wouldn’t be.
Nat shut the door as quietly as she could before opening room 216. This room looked different from hers and Misty’s, as this room looked almost engulfed in flowers and little ‘Get Well Soon’ type balloons. Teddy bears too, edible arrangements, and cookies. Even entering the atmosphere smelled sweet, and it made Nat’s stomach rumble a bit. Nat wrinkled her nose and turned towards one of the edible arrangements, seeing a small card that read 'Feel Better Soon, Charlotte! Love, Mom and Dad' Just as with Misty, Nat cracked the door open enough to illuminate the room a bit more, and she was able to see that it was Lottie. She had a little purple polka dotted night gown on, and much to Nat's surprise, Lottie’s eyes were open and she was staring calmly in Nat’s direction, but not directly at her. Nat startled a little bit from the almost-eye contact, and Lottie looked away, wordlessly trying not to frighten Nat. Lottie had a tendency to stare into space these days, and rarely said a word. Nat cautiously walked forward, spoke to Lottie for a little while, and while Lottie responded minimally with words, her eyes often were full of emotion. Nat stayed with Lottie for at least another hour before returning back to her room that night.
Nat blinked, coming back to reality right now.
I mean, I’m not afraid of Lottie hurting me. She’s never tried to, and she sure could have with the times that I spent with her alone. I bet the people at the place she’s at probably read all of the damn letters she writes before she can mail them off anyway. Plus, I’ve already seen the darkest sides of her, what more can she really do to scare me?
Nat chews on her lip, deep in contemplation of what the heck she should say. Nat doesn’t tend to write very much, unless it’s trying her hand at song lyrics from time to time, but right now she’s drawing a blank. After scribbling out many fruitless tries at a thoughtful letter, Nat finally is able to scavenge something together. The only thing left is how to sign it.
Do I.. do I want her to know that I wrote this?
Nat contemplates for a second, the pros and cons of what signing this letter would do.
I mean, as long as there’s a return address it shouldn’t matter, but..
Nat huffs, looks at the clock on her wall, seeing that it’s now almost 11:48 PM. Shit, way later than she would have wanted. Nat quickly scribbles something at the bottom of the note, folds it carefully, and slides it into an envelope. She includes a return address, but no name above it. She then begins the arduous search online for a certain psychiatric hospital in Switzerland until she gets an idea. Nat picks up her landline telephone in her bedroom, knowing that the person she'll be calling doesn't mind, and dials the number of a certain spectacled curly haired blonde amateur sleuth who can definitely figure out the right address to send this letter off to in Switzerland..