Chapter 37: Akin

Once the door closed, the Alpha strolled over to Scott. The young werewolf instinctively stepped away, which forced the Alpha to stop.

"I'm not going to hurt you," insisted the Alpha and he pointed to Scott's neck. "You have blood all over you."

Scott reached for his neck, his fingertips sticky in blood. The Alpha handed him a handkerchief and gestured him to follow. Scott accepted the handkerchief, but paused before following his grandfather.

His grandfather moved to a set of cabinets, opening a drawer. He reached to the top shelf and pulled out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He handed the bottle to Scott.

"Apply it gently," advised the Alpha. "No need to make your skin raw."

Scott lathered the handkerchief with the medicine and cleaned his neck. The handkerchief went from white to a heavy pink color. He rubbed a little more and then threw it away.

Meanwhile, the Alpha moved back to the desk and pulled out a bottle of brandy and two glasses.

"I can't remember," he mused, "What's the drinking age in the States?"

"Twenty-one."

"And how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Oh well, hmm…" The Alpha looked down at the two glasses. "Do you care for some anyway?"

Scott shook his head and the Alpha put away one of the glasses and filled the other to the brim. Scott watched the Alpha take a big gulp before setting the glass down.

"What a night," he muttered and looked back to Scott. "So, Scott right?"

Scott nodded.

"Do you prefer Scott or another name?"

"Just Scott."

The Alpha nodded and paused for moment. "I guess you can call me grandpa. Or, if you're not comfortable with that, Henri is fine as well."

"I'm sorry that we had to meet like this," Henri the Alpha said. "I-I didn't know you actually existed until fifteen minutes ago."

Scott didn't say anything. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of his mother. He wanted to go to her and every minute that went by made the desire to run double. The pit of his stomach kept twisting into knots as he pictured his mother in the hospital room alone. Dying with no one beside her to comfort her. For his mother to die alone filled Scott with dread.

"I know you'd rather not be here," continued his grandfather, "I can sense the urgency from your heart rate."

"I'm worried about my mother," said Scott.

Henri grimaced. "Yes…of course you are. Understandable. I'll ensure she receives the best care."

That didn't ease Scott's conscious. Henri gestured to the chairs and they both sat down. Scott twiddled his thumbs while his grandfather took another long drink.

"I should have known," said Henri, finally. "Harold's constant disappearance. His avoidance over dealing with…well, you" Scott flickered his eyes to his grandfather. The Alpha fondly smiled. "And, you have my eyes."

Scott looked away. "Yeah, I-I've heard."

Henri tapped on the chair's arms. "Listen, I know this is awkward for both of us," he said. "When I think of grandchildren, I expect babies. Not—"

"Teenagers?"

"Adults," corrected Henri. "I always figured I would be around them and watch them grow up. But you—" Henri sighed heavily. "You already grew up on your own. Figured all the werewolf abilities on your own."

Scott didn't correct him. He didn't develop his werewolf abilities alone. Stiles, Derek, and Dr. Deaton all helped him cope with the new transformation. Even Allison helped by being around him.

"So, um, Scott," said Henri. "Sixteen…so, you must have gotten your licenses, correct? Or is that eighteen here in the States?"

"It's sixteen," said Scott. "But, I don't own a car."

"No car? A motorcycle then?"

"No motorcycle," said Scott, making him feel financially insecure. "We're not…I mean, we're fine. I don't really need a car. It's a small town here."

Henri's eyebrows rose. "I see. So, no car or motorcycle. What's the point in having a licenses then?"

Scott shrugged. "Just in case, I guess. Maybe when I get more money I will buy one."

The Alpha gave an approving nod. "Well, if you ever think about getting either a car or motorcycle, Harvey knows a lot. He can help you."

"Oh, um, thanks, but that's okay."

Henri's face fell. "That's right. Sorry, I forgot. Harvey and you…" He stopped briefly to think of the right words. "Harvey's a good man. I'm sorry you met him under dire circumstances."

"He stabbed my mother."

"Yes, I know," said the Alpha gravely, his voice distasteful. "But, if he would have known, he wouldn't even touch her let alone harm her."

"Still doesn't change the fact that's she in the hospital," said Scott.

Henri bowed his head. "Yes, I know that too."

They settled into silence. Scott snuck a look to the doors where he father promised he would guard. He wondered if his father was listening in on them this very moment.

"So, moving onto a happier note," said Henri. "What do you like to do?"

"For fun?"

Henri nodded.

"You mean, besides wolfing out and attacking innocents?" quipped Scott, his tone laced with resentment. "I play lacrosse."

"Lacrosse?"

"It's like hockey, but—"

"I know what lacrosse is," said Henri. "I'm just surprised that you actually play a sport. Most werewolves wouldn't even dare."

Scott was rattled. "Why not?"

"To avoid possible exposure," Henri explained. "Can't have the world go back to Middle Ages' hysteria again."

Scott thought that Beacon Hills was already experiencing the hysteria, but he kept the thought to himself. No need to get the Alpha any threatening ideas. Or worse, leave and take him with them.

"What's your position?"

"Er…I-I don't really have a stable position," said Scott. "Coach puts me in whatever position the team needs."

The Alpha scrunched up his face, rather surprised at Scott's statement. "I figured you would be the number one player, seeing as you are a werewolf."

"Well, it's complicated," said Scott, not wanting to mention his failing education.

Henri chuckled. "I can imagine. It's never easy being a teen werewolf. I remember when Harold was a teenager. Good God! He was very rebellious. Never cared for the rules or codes. Constantly got in trouble with the police for childish acts! Your grandmother, bless her soul, always had to play the referee between the two of us."

Scott believed Henri's story. He could see his teenage-father causing ruckus around France, disobeying rules, and teasing police officers for jokes. Mostly because for a brief moment, Scott saw his father's behavior mirroring his own.

There was a knock on the door and Harold stepped inside. Scott was surprisingly relieved to see his father, but the grave expression and the haunted eyes twisted his insides. Henri, however, looked annoyed.

"Need something?" Henri coolly asked.

Harold didn't even look at Scott. "Je suis désolé père. Mais, l'hôpital a appelé."

The Alpha's annoyance faded from his face and replaced with a concern shamed. "Est-ce qu'elle va bien?"

Scott couldn't understand a word they were speaking. He recognized it was French, but the only foreign language he knew was Spanish, but even that language was rocky for him. Scott kept glancing back and forth between his father and grandfather.

Though he refused to make eye contact with Scott, Harold continued speaking, but not in French. "She just got out of surgery," he said. "I was going to go visit her."

Scott knew his father spoke in English for his benefit, but the news caused him to jump out of his chair.

"I'm going!" Scott maneuvered around the chair to his father. Harold's mouth opened, but Scott shook his head. "No! I'm not staying. She's my mother!"

Harold said, "Actually, I was going take you with me." Harold slowly turned to his father. "If that's all right?"

Henri had stood up by now. His back was straightened and he stared at his son and grandson for a good moment before nodding his head. "Yes, I think it's best the two of you check up on her. When you come home, we can discuss more about the current situation."

BREAK

Harold ushered Scott out of the room and to his car. Scott eagerly hopped, wanting to have the place far behind him. Once they were a good distance away from the mansion, Scott questioned his father what his grandfather said.

"What does he mean by situation?"

Harold shrugged half-heartily. "I can only guess he meant you."

"And if I am staying here or coming to France?"

"Possibly," said Harold. "Or, if we're staying here because of you."

Scott groaned. "Either way, I don't win." Bare trees sped past Scott's window. "What were you two talking about earlier? In front of me?"

"That Melissa was out of the hospital," said Harold. "That's all."

Scott listened to his father's heartbeat. There was no skip. "Is…is she okay?"

Harold side-glanced at Scott. "I'm not quite sure. But, like you, I hope she's going to come out of it fine."

Minutes later, they arrived at the hospital. Scott ran to the doors with Harold close at his heels. The minute Scott entered the hospital doors, a nurse he recognized as one of his mother's co-workers walked up to him.

"Scott!" said the nurse, tenderly.

"Where is she?" asked Scott, glancing around at the hospital doors. "Where's my mom?"

The nurse took a deep breath. "She just got out of surgery…"

"We know," said Harold who finally caught up to Scott. "Just give us the room number."

The nurse blinked up at Harold, seemingly surprised and concerned. "W-Who are you?"

"He's my dad," said Scott, off-handily.

Harold smiled. "Now, the room?"

The nurse stared momentarily at both Scott and Harold before giving them the room number. Scott ran up the stairs and hurried to the room number. He found his mother's room and, with deep, nervous breath, pushed the door opened to discover his mother on a hospital gurney with tubes coming from her mouth, nose, and arms. She was stoic and pale almost like a corpse.

Scott's heart flitted to down. Cautiously, he approached to her bedside. He nervously checked her heart to hear it steadily beat. But, it was fainter than it usually is. Trying to hold back the tears, Scott reached for his mother's hand. It was warm, but not as warm as he once remembered.

Harold opened the door and following him into the hospital room was a white-coat doctor. The doctor turned to Harold.

"Are you Mr. McCall?" asked the doctor.

"No," answered Harold. "I'm Melissa's ex-husband." He nudged his head to Scott's direction. "He's Mr. McCall."

The doctor turned to Scott, slightly surprised to see him as a teenager rather than adult.

The suspense of the wait pushed Scott. "How is she? Will she be okay?"

Scott sensed the doctor's uneasy feeling. His heart raced and then skipped like the following words were not going to please anyone.

"Your mother lost a lot of blood," started the doctor. "Her traumatic injuries caused her to lose an excessive amount of blood. Her aorta artery was nearly severed, but our team of surgeon's managed to repair most of the damages. Everything else is up to her."

Scott rounded on the doctor, but it was Harold who spoke. "What do you mean everything else is up to her?"

The doctor sighed. "She fell into a coma," he said. "The chances of her coming out of it depend on how much her body tries to repair itself. We don't know exactly when she'll recover from it."

Scott backed away from the doctor. He turned to his comatose mother and suddenly his body was shaking. No tears formed in his eyes, but everything was getting blurry and his heart raced faster than before. He could hear the door opening and closing. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Scott."

The young werewolf snapped and pushed his father away from him. "Get out!"

Harold lifted his hands up in the air. "Scott," he said, calmly. "You gotta control yourself. We're at the hospital."

Scott's raged exploded. "Seriously?! That's all you're worried about? Exposure? Mom's in a coma! She nearly died! And…and all you can think about is EXPOSURE!"

Harold checked the door, but no one was barging into the room. "Scott, listen to me closely, you have to calm down! Rage will cause you to become bloodthirsty! Would your Mom want you to go on a killing spree?"

Scott's chest heaved. He wanted to attack his father. To make him feel his pain. To make him trade places with his mom. But, his father was right about the rage. It would make him hunt for blood and he couldn't betray the morals his mother taught him.

"Go," he murmured. "Please just…just go."

Harold, depressed, nodded understandably and left the hospital room to give Scott alone time with his mother. He said one last thing to Scott before exiting, "I'm truly sorry Scott."

Scott didn't acknowledge his father's statement. He dropped into a nearby chair and held onto his mother's hand like she did for him when he was a scared.

BREAK

Harold walked down the hospital's hallway, away from Melissa's room. He was going to return home, without Scott. His father would implore him to fetch Scott from the hospital, but Scott didn't need to deal with his other relatives. All the stress he experienced in two days needed to simmer and Harold figured the best way was for him to be by his mother's bedside.

He was prepared to exit the hospital completely, when he heard a voice that caught his attention.

"I see Scott's troubled by the news."

Harold sighed. "She's in a coma. What did you expect?"

Harold turned to see Peter Hale sitting in one of the multiple waiting rooms the hospital provided. He walked over and took a seat next to him.

Peter adjusted his posture and fixed his jacket. "I expected to see a few scratches and bruises on you," he said. "Scott's emotions get the better of him sometimes."

"I figured he would attack me too, but, he's exhausted."

"From meeting the folks?"

"That and the near decapitation."

Peter's interest perked. "I guess your father didn't realize he was sentencing his grandson at the time."

Harold nodded. "He now knows," he said. "Wants Scott to come back after the hospital visit."

"But, you weren't planning to do that, were you?"

Harold forgot how insightful Peter was. "No. I wasn't. Scott needs to be with people he trusts at the moment. And no one from my family is on that list, including me."

A team of nurses rushed a young adult in a gurney passed them, shouting out codes as others checked for a pulse in his neck and wrist. Harold heard a faint heartbeat, but knew it would not last. The man was going to die.

His thoughts turned to Melissa and how she too is dancing along the borders of life and death.

"Thank you," said Harold and Peter looked over at him. "For rescuing Melissa and taking her here."

Peter accepted the gratitude with a nod. "Of course," he said. "I don't mind being the knight in shining armor."

"Seriously though," said Harold. "You probably saved her life."

"Maybe," countered Peter. "But, right now we don't know. She's in a coma."

"There's a chance she'll recover."

"A very slim chance," said Peter. "I overheard the doctors when they finished the surgery. They believe she's not going to wake up. The trauma was too much for her body."

Harold groaned. "Scott's never going to forgive me if she dies. Hell, I'll never forgive myself."

Peter paused, looked for any eavesdroppers, before turning to Harold. "You know there is a way to save her."

Harold shook his head and spoke very firm. "No."

"Why not?" insisted Peter. "She'll be alive!"

"Because I'm not going to put her through that agony," stated Harold. "No, I have to believe that she'll find a way to come back…at least for Scott's sake. I-I can't…no. No way."

Peter grudgingly accepted Harold's decision. "It's just a suggestion," he said and stood up. "Do you want me to stick around? Keep guard?"

Harold shook his head. "No. That's all right. She's not in any danger. The hunters won't come after her and I know my family won't either."

Peter hummed. "Actually…they did. They stopped by and were asking questions from the nurses. They didn't get much."

Harold's heart seized. "What?"

"They won't come back," said Peter. "They were just trying to see if it was an accident or an animal attack. You know, to check if it was related to werewolves."

Harold cursed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I figured you would be more concern with Melissa than the hunters."

Harold didn't argue. "Okay…all right. Did they find out?"

"No, the nurses refused to give out the patient's information that's not family related."

Harold let out a great sigh of relief. "Thank God! Thank…all right. Maybe I shouldn't leave Scott alone."

Peter cut him off. "Don't worry about Scott," he said. "His relationship with Allison gives him some protection."

"Yeah, but I can't leave him here unprotected," said Harold. "Either I take him back home or…"

"Get a babysitter?" suggested Peter. "From what you just said earlier, I doubt he will want to leave his mother for your family, who actually placed Melissa in the coma."

Harold pulled out his keys and gripped them tightly in his knuckles. "Yeah, I know, but I have to put Scott somewhere safe."

"Try the local jail."

Harold frowned at his friend's joke. "No, Scott needs to be with someone he trusts and someone who can protect him from hunters."

Peter shrugged. "Well, I can't really think of anyone expect for maybe Stiles, but he's a bit preoccupied a floor up."

"Nor could he really fight off an attack from hunters," added Harold and he ruffled his hair. "But, seriously, who?"

Suddenly, an image popped in his head and Harold snapped his fingers. "I got just the person."

Peter stared suspiciously at his old friend. "Okay, I'll take a bite," he said. "Who?"

BREAK

Harold returned home, dragging his feet through the front doors and to his own bedroom. Flynn asked about Melissa's health, but Harold couldn't talk about it. Flynn understood and backed out of the room as Henri marched in, demanding to know where Scott was.

"I left him at the hospital."

"WHAT?" roared Henri. "You left him there? Why would you do that? Did you forget there're hunters out there!"

"He's safe," ensured Harold. "Trust me. I-I made arrangements for Scott."

"You should have brought him back here," cried Henri. "He's safer with us."

"Not to him," retorted Harold. "To him, we're dangerous. Killers. The ones responsible for putting his mother in the hospital." Harold reminded his father, who huffed, but bowed in shame. "So, I made arrangements with someone he trusts. Someone who will protect him."

"Don't worry though," continued Harold as his father wanted to argue. "It's only for a short period of time until things settle down for him and us."

"Will I be able to see him sometime?" huffed Henri. "He's my grandson, you know."

"And, he's my son!" countered Harold, "And, right now, I'm his guardian and I decided he should stay somewhere else for these next few nights. Okay?"

Henri frowned, but grunted a response that he somewhat understood. "I just want to keep him safe."

"I understand that," said Harold. "But, right now he doesn't need us. He needs familiarity."

"Will I get to see him tomorrow?"

"He has school," said Harold. "But, maybe."

It was enough to satisfy his father. As Henri went to leave Harold alone, he turned back once more to remind his eldest son. "By the way," he said. "You're still on suspension. And, I don't know if I can forgive you anytime soon."

Harold nodded. "I figured."