Adrenaline
Adrenaline was a funny thing. Sometimes it was the only thing standing between the success and failure of a mission; that burst of energy and increased concentration that allowed him to leap across a chasm he would never have managed to cross otherwise. The heightened awareness that told him the building was about to collapse seconds before the first of the debris began to fall. That temporary relief from the bruises and sprains and cuts that adorned his body. Scott thrived on adrenaline.
It was unpredictable, though. It could hit at the most inopportune moment, when he needed his hands to be steady, when he needed to think clearly. Out of his brothers, he was the most adept at dealing with the rush, the best at channelling it in ways that would serve him best.
He could never predict when the crash would come, though. Sometimes, they'd be packing away mobile control, debriefing the authorities, when suddenly every ache would announce itself at once, and every movement would become a chore. Other times, he would fall asleep on the couch at home during debriefing, waking up a few hours later covered by a blanket and with stiff muscles.
Sometimes it would hit during the flight home. During such times, he and Virgil would chat all the way home, talking about stupid stuff, anything to help Scott stay awake and alert. Even if Virgil was feeling the same, his need to keep his older brother safe would overpower his own tiredness just long enough to see Scott home. Sometimes John would chip in, updating them on the aftermath, or Alan, winding them up until they were growling in response.
Adrenaline didn't always hit on a rescue. When it did, however, Scott welcomed its temporary help.
As a performer, I'm more than familiar with the weird things adrenaline can do to your body. But it's so necessary.
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