Chapter 38: Arbutus*
Scott rested his head on his mother's bed. He still held her hand, never wanting to let go. He drifted through his vault of memories. He remembered the nights his parents fought. He remembered the day his father left. He remembered the day Stiles sobbed after his mother's funeral. He remembered the night he was bitten. He remembered the day Allison broke his heart. He remembered the day Jackson died. He remembered the day he nearly died. And, the worse of them all, he remembered his mother's face the moment Harvey attacked her. It was so clear like a film. The slow motion, his mother's terrified and exasperated expression as she dropped like a broken puppet.
He stared straight ahead at plain wall. As his eyes focused on the wall's basic décor, Scott realized the wall was no longer dull. In fact, he no longer saw the wall. All he saw was blood dripping down from the ceiling to the floor, flowing like a waterfall.
Scott backed away. Where was the blood coming from? He had to move his mother out of the room. As Scott reached to move the hospital bed, footsteps caught his attention. At the door, stood a lone wolf.
Thick white coat and bright water blue eyes, the wolf was stoic as its attention rested on Scott. It didn't bark, growl, or howl. It watched with interest for a moment then loped over to him. With a glint in its eyes, the wolf howled.
The howl was piercing and frightened Scott. He violently woke up to someone standing next to him.
"Scott!"
Scott's eyes refocused and realized that Derek was peering down at him. Scott jerked his head to the wall, where it's plain décor remained clean. He checked the door, but there was no wolf either. Scott returned to his mother to find he was still holding her hand.
Scott blinked furiously and rubbed his eyes. "What…what happened? Why are you here?"
"You were asleep," said Derek. "And your father called me," he added as if that explained everything.
His face scrunched as he questionably stared at the Alpha. "Why?"
"To take you home," answered Derek.
"I-I wanna stay."
"I know you do," said Derek, smoothly like he was talking to a three year old, "but the hospital won't let you. So, come on."
Scott, too tired to argue, kissed his mother's forehead. "I'll come back tomorrow," he whispered to his mother.
Derek waited by the door and, together they left the hospital. Scott buckled himself in Derek's car and dropped his head against the window. Derek pulled out of the hospital and headed to Scott's house.
Upon arrival, Scott was surprised to see the amount of damages the Originals done during the attack. The front door was off its' hinges, roof tiles had slid off and fallen in front of their lawn, and windows had cracked lines across like someone dragged claws across it.
Carefully, Scott crossed the threshold and into the hallway where he remembered how his mother shoved him up the stairs as werewolves nipped at their heels. Derek came in after him and he frowned at the destruction.
Derek didn't say anything, but Scott knew what he thought about the incident. He sensed the older werewolf's sorrow like this personally happened to him. Scott pushed the feelings away and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Claw marks dug into Scott's door and it too was off its hinges.
Scott stopped at the doorway and stared. His bedroom was completely destroyed. His desk lay in a crumbled heap along with his desk and dresser. But, his belongings didn't disturb him. It was bloodstain on the floor.
Derek stepped next to Scott and his eyes were immediately drawn to the bloodstain.
"Is that where—"
"Yes." Scott moved across his bedroom and gathered a few of his remaining belongings that were not damaged.
He took his backpack, his wallet, and a few of his clothes. He had no idea how long he was going to stay with Derek, but he packed a week's worth of clothes, stuffing them in his backpack along with his books. Derek tried to block Scott the sight of his mother's blood. But, Scott could still smell her blood.
"Come on," advised Derek. "We better get going."
Scott grabbed one last thing and pocketed it. Derek ushered him out and back into the vehicle. Scott gave one last, fleeting look to his mother's home. His intestines cringed and he turned away. Derek hit the accelerator and the car jumped back onto the road.
Scott hugged his backpack close to his chest. His stomach bubbled and uneasiness welled inside his heart. "Pull over."
Derek looked over. "What? Why?"
"Just pull over!"
Derek wheeled the car off to the side and placed it in park. Scott got out and ran a bit ways from the car. Then he bent over and puked. Derek unbuckled his seatbelt and strolled to his side.
Scott coughed up the last chunk out, spitting the remaining distaste out of his mouth. Taking deep breaths, Scott cried. "It's my fault," he mumbled. "It's all my fault."
Derek was bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
Scott shivered underneath the chilled breeze. Derek checked Scott's face and then placed a hand on the young werewolf's forehead. "Let's get back into the car," said Derek.
He led Scott to the car and helped him into the seat. Tears slid down Scott's cheeks and Derek pulled the car back onto the road.
Derek sighed. "It's not your fault, Scott."
Scott shifted in the seat uncomfortably, his eyes on Derek. "I didn't protect my Mom," he uttered. "They were after me. Not her. And now she's in a coma. How is that not my fault?"
"Because your mother loves you enough to sacrifice her life for you," explained Derek.
"Doesn't make me feel any better," croaked Scott, a tear splashing on his shirt. "I…I wish it was me," Scott's face crinkled. "I wish I was in the coma."
Derek sighed heavily as Scott sobbed into his backpack. He glanced at Scott and then breathed deeply. "When my family's house caught fire and killed my family members, all I could think about was how they died because of me. I was the one who dated…her," Derek's jaw clenched. "Gave her the information needed to kill my family. To destroy my family."
Scott lifted his head as Derek continued his sobered story. "All those years after, I-I…it hung over my head. I kept wishing to be dead. Kept wishing that it was me who died rather than my sister, my parents, cousins, and aunts and uncles. Hell, I dreamt that I was dead and they were alive. But, I would wake up the next morning still alive and them dead."
"I never really managed to forgive myself for their deaths," said Derek. "I traveled across the States to find a way to…a way to redeem myself."
"I didn't find it," admitted Derek. "Each day that passed, I got angrier not only at myself, but at everyone. I was falling a part."
Derek twisted his hands around the steering wheel. "Then, of course, my sister was murdered and you know the rest."
"Either way, Scott," said Derek and Scott lifted his head to listen. "Don't go down that road. It doesn't lead anywhere good. I know."
Through the blurriness of his tears, Scott considered Derek's story. Though guilt fueled his mind, he looked at Derek's life. Living alone, emotionless, and always seeking for something he can never truly have: family. Unlike Derek, Scott still had family, though he considered that family to be strangers.
Derek turned into an old complex near downtown. Scott peered outside the window and at the building. "Where are we?"
"My home," said Derek and Scott raised an eyebrow at him. "What? You thought I lived in that subway?"
Scott half-shrugged. Derek huffed. "That's for training. I prefer to keep my bedroom and werewolf practices separate."
As Derek opened his door, Scott spoke, "Did you ever find your redemption?"
Derek paused, staring down at his hand on the door handle. His shoulders hunched over in a brooding manner. He turned back around to Scott, his face pensive.
"Yeah, I did," he said then he got out of the car and slammed it close.
Scott grabbed his belongings and followed Derek to the top level of the building. Derek pulled a big metal door back, revealing a roomy loft with little furnishing. Scott stepped into the room and Derek closed and locked the metal door, setting the alarm.
"Okay, this is the loft," said Derek. "You'll have to sleep on the couch for tonight."
Derek pointed to a nearby sofa; long enough that Scott didn't have scrunch his body into a ball.
"I have blankets and can find a pillow around here somewhere," he said. "Isaac is in the next room over and he sometimes gets up early for God knows what."
"Isaac lives with you?" queried Scott.
Derek nodded. "After his father's death, who else did he have? Anyway, tomorrow, I'll get some sort of blow up bed and other things for you."
Scott moved to the couch and dropped his belongings. "Do you know how long I am staying here for?"
"I don't know," said Derek, honestly. "Maybe for a few days to a week."
Scott wiped his nose with his sleeve, snot still leaking. "Okay. So, my Dad didn't say anything else?"
Derek shook his head. "No, nothing. But, you have school tomorrow."
"I don't feel like going to school."
"Then, your Dad will have to call the school," said Derek. "Either way, I'm exhausted and heading to bed. If you're hungry the kitchen's over there."
Scott thanked Derek when he returned with a pillow and blanket. Once Derek left, Scott was alone in the main room of the loft. He glanced around Derek's new place. It wasn't like his home. It was dull and reminded Scott of an industrial park rather than a proper home.
Scott laid himself down to sleep on the couch, staring straight ahead at the yellowing wall. He tried to close his eyes, but all he could see was his mother's pained expression.
"Please," he prayed, softly. "Whoever is listening, please save my mother."
BREAK
Harold walked into Melissa's hospital room with a bouquet of red, white, and pink carnations. He was glad he purchased a vase and, adding water, he placed the vase of flowers on the stand nearby her bed.
He settled into the chair that Scott once occupied. He watched her chest slowly move up and down in a slow rhythm. Her heart monitor beat, but Harold didn't need to see it know how slow her heart rate was. Since yesterday, he sensed that she hadn't improved. She had worsened.
The door opened and the doctor from last night entered. "Hello again," he said. "The flowers are nice."
Harold stood up. "I need to know the chances. I know you said yesterday that you don't have enough to guess the outcome. But, now?"
The doctor looked at her folders and checked the vitals on the machine. "Doesn't look like she improved in the last twenty-four hours. Chances of her coming out of the coma are less."
Harold sighed frustratingly. "So, basically less than fifty percent."
"Less than twenty percent."
The doctor apologized and informed him the hospital was going to do their best to treat her. Once the doctor left, Harold sunk back to the seat. He caressed her hand, a doleful look on his face.
"So, this is your wife?"
Harold turned to the door and saw his father standing in the doorway, staring interestedly at Melissa's face.
"I guess ex-wife to be lawfully correct," said Henri and he closed the door behind him. "She's beautiful. I can only imagine how she looks when she had more life in her."
"Get out," growled Harold.
Henri wandered over to the opposite bedside while Harold eyed him like a hawk. The Alpha sniffed and wrinkled his nose, backing away from the bed.
"Oh…she's dying," said Henri. "But, I think you already know that."
Harold frowned. "There's still—"
"Her life is wasting away," stated Henri, and then sympathetically spoke. "Does Scott know?"
"I don't know. Maybe, but I hope not."
Henri surveyed his son in a scrutinizing way. "Any human would think that you didn't want to hurt your son's feelings that his mother is dying, but you," he said. "You're thinking of something that he would not approve of."
Harold turned away from his father to Melissa.
"Have you decided?"
"Not yet," replied Harold. "But, I don't think I can do it."
"Because…"
Harold didn't answer. He tucked in Melissa's blankets and kissed her on the cheek. "Keep fighting Mel," he whispered in her ear.
Harold opened the door and waited for his father to come with him. Henri, however, didn't move.
"I don't understand," said Henri.
Harold took the bite. "What don't you understand?"
Henri gazed at his son. "You clearly love this woman," he said. "What happened?"
Harold paused for a long time, contemplating on what to say to his father. "A lot."
Henri studied his son for another moment, before accepting the answer and following him out of the hospital room. He patted Harold on the back and then lovingly gripped his shoulder.
"Don't worry son," Henri said. "She's family now. She's in good hands."
BREAK
Scott slept well into the early afternoon before waking up to Derek opening the metal door to come into the loft.
"Morning sleeping beauty," said Derek, carrying a few bags and a box with the words "blow-up mattress" labeled on the side.
Scott stretched and yawned before standing up to follow Derek to the kitchen portion of the loft. "How long have I been out?"
"Nearly ten hours," announced Derek, "You were completely out."
"I thought you said I had school?"
"Your Dad stopped by," explained Derek and Scott was now fully awake. "Came by to check on you. He called the school for you."
"Did he say anything? Did he tell—"
"No. Your Dad wasn't exactly the chatting guy. He came in and out. Very quickly. In fact, he scared Isaac."
Scott could see people being afraid of his father without the knowledge of his werewolf heritage. In fact, many probably suspect he's in a mob.
"So, nothing then?"
"Nothing," confirmed Derek. "Anyway, I got you a few things."
Derek started pulling out towels, shampoo, toothbrush, and other items. "If you're staying here for a few nights, I had to get you some things that I thought you would need." He picked up the box. "And here's your new bed. You can blow it up whenever."
Scott looked at the picture of the blow-up bed and then set it down with all the other purchased items.
"What time is it?"
"Three. Why?"
"I want to see my Mom," said Scott. "Where's your bathroom?"
Derek pointed to a nearby door. "Do you need me to drive you?"
Scott shook his head. "Nah, I'll be okay. I wanna walk."
Scott cleaned himself and headed for the hospital by foot. He stopped at a nearby flower shop and purchased a bouquet of flowers the attendant recommended. Carrying flowers, he journeyed to the hospital with the fiery hope of improvement
Upon arrival, he sensed no other supernatural presence, which greatly eased him. He trekked though the hoards of nurses, coated doctors, and patients. Outside the door to his mother's room, Scott stopped. He leaned closer to the door and paused. There was no heartbeat.
Fear drained his soul and the blood in his heart. No he thought and he burst into the hospital. No one was there. His mother's room was empty. No machines, blankets, and, especially, no mother.
Scott backed out of the room and sprinted to the nearest desk.
"Where's my mom?" he demanded to the nurse on the opposite side of the desk.
She had a phone in her hand, but when she saw Scott's panic face, she lowered the phone. "I'm sorry, who's your mother?"
"Melissa McCall," said Scott. "She was in room, uh, 411. But, she's not there anymore. Did something happen? She's…she's not…"
The nurse held up a finger and began typing away on the computer. Scott waited anxiously, scanning the nurse's face to see any flicker of emotion that will give him an answer.
The nurse double-clicked and read the screen. "It appears your mother was transferred."
Scott's brows wrinkled forward. "Transferred? What do you mean transferred? Where?"
The nurse checked the computer again. "Er…Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center."
"Why was she transferred? Who ordered the transfer?"
The nurse read and rolled the mouse down. "The transfer was approved by a Mr. Harold…"
And that was all Scott heard before he turned away from the nurse and marched out of the hospital.
*The word "Arbutus" actually means, "You are the only one Loves" or "You are the only one I love" The Arbutus flower can be found in the Mediterranean, western Europe, and North America.