Notes: Flashback chapter! I put it in italics to emphasize that it's different, but if you guys have trouble reading it like that (or you just hate it) let me know and I'll make it normal text.

Chapter 7

1987

Everything seemed too white, too cold, and too quiet. Hospitals were always like that at first, though. It was the fifth time Scott had been to the hospital now, so he could see what the building really was, and feel what was really there.

He had been in this tiny room so many times, he had noticed everything there was to it. The first time he had entered it, he thought everything was sterile and polished, glistening white and spotless. Now, he could see the stain in the upper right corner of the wall where there had been a leak. And the scuffs near the bottom of the wall, behind the chairs, where the legs rubbed up against them.

The first time he had sat down in the plastic chair against the wall, Scott had had goose bumps it was so cold. The AC blew right on his head from the ceiling, and the whiteness gave him the sense of winter and ice. Now, the room felt too small. Now, he felt claustrophobic, and it made him nervous and hot. Sometimes, he had a hard time breathing. Though it might have just been his nerves. Either way, he always left the hospital sweating.

He had always felt that the hospital was eerily silent. The receptionists sat quietly, awaiting the next patient to sign in. and even when they did sign in, the person behind the desk spoke in hushed tones. The nurses spoke softly, and walked with a quiet grace through the halls. The doctors never seemed to talk at all unless they were asking questions, and even then they talked briefly, using as little words as possible. Now, Scott could cock his head to the side and hear a plethora of chaotic noise. A nurse was clicking a pen and smacking her gum, a child in the lobby was crying obnoxiously, and directly to his left, his father was tapping his toes to some unknown song. It was loud in the hospital, and he wondered how he could not have heard all this noise before.

The doctors were especially surprising to him. Where he used to think they hardly spoke at all, he now knew they never shut up. They were always coming in with a clipboard and bad news. And what was worse is they made their speeches as wordy as possible, fitting in language that was hardly English. Half the time Scott couldn't even follow what they were saying, but still they talked, on and on. Whatever it was they were saying, it couldn't have been good. His father buried his face in his hands, and his mother, from on the table in the center of the room, covered her mouth to stifle a sob.

He wanted to tell them all to shut up. Why did the doctors have to come in here and make his parents upset? What gave them the right? Couldn't they just leave them alone? Every time they came into this stupid hospital they left crying; his mother especially. Something was the matter with her, apparently. But she was fine until they started coming to the hospital. Scott just wanted to tell his parents to stop coming here. Then they'd be happy, right? There'd be no more doctors coming in with their dumb clipboards to give bad news. They could just be a happy, healthy family again.

Beside him, Scott's little sister started to cry. The toddler had flopped onto the ground once she noticed her mother crying, taking that as a cue for her own fit. She fisted the air in front of her, urging someone to pick her up. The doctor and Scott's mother didn't even seem to hear the whining, deep in their own conversation. His father, however, sighed and looked up from his hands.

"Scott, take Mae outside for a while," he ordered, his eyes red. Scott nodded, a lump forming in his throat. This was the first time he had seen his father tear up, and it scared him more than anything. He jumped from his chair and grabbed his sister's little hand, perhaps a bit too hard, and dragged her from the room.

Once outside the room, the real chaos of the hospital was finally apparent. Two nurses hurried past him, almost in a run. They returned quickly, pushing a stretcher and yelling incoherent nonsense. Above the rattling of the wheels, the moan of the injured man rose up, and he turned his head to the side, revealing the half of his face that was severely singed and bleeding. The group rushed away in seconds, leaving behind the stench of burnt flesh. Not two seconds later, the clatter of another stretcher began to grow. Scott pressed his back against the wall behind him, holding his breath as another victim was rushed by. This one looked even worse than the last.

"Come on, Mae," he said as calmly as possible, tugging the sniffling toddler along. He headed in the opposite direction of the burn victims, hoping to get the smell out of his nose. He just wanted some fresh air. Unfortunately, he wasn't positive how to get to the front door from where he was. He led his sister along with him, staring down corridors and opening double doors in hopes of finding the lobby. After a few minutes, he was sure that, if anything, he had only gotten himself more lost.

At the sound of a door opening, Scott turned around, seeing a nurse enter the hallway from a quiet room. He was about to ask her for help, but the look on her face stopped him. Instead, he backed away behind a cabinet to watch. She seemed sad, but not devastated. Almost… disappointed. She marked something on a clipboard hanging by the door and looked around. She caught the eye of a coworker and nodded solemnly.

"Must've passed away before anyone could get to him," she said. "Don't suppose you can help me clear the room?"

"Can't," her coworker replied. "I have to get this down to Dr. Brigg." She shrugged apologetically and walked away, leaving the nurse to go find other help. When she was out of sight, Scott stepped forward. He looked around to make sure no one was watching and, unable to control his curiosity, walked into the room.

Without even the steady bleep of a heart monitor, the room was eerily silent. The lights were on, but the blinds on the window were closed, and the room was lit only by the unnatural fluorescents. A chemical smell burned the odor of charred flesh from Scott's nose, and he wasn't sure if it was better or worse.

He tugged on his sister's wrist, pulling her along closer to the unmoving mass on the bed resting against the wall. He stopped a few paces away, holding his breath. The figure on the bed was a man who looked on the verge of middle-age. He was lying on his bed face-up, his eyes closed in permanence and his graying lips slightly parted, neither taking in nor letting out any air. It was the first time Scott had actually seen a corpse in real life, despite how many times he'd been in the hospital. The skin was ashen and smooth, and the brunette hair looked spiky and brittle. He had the sudden urge to reach forward and feel if the body was as cold as people rumored them to be. Would anyone care? He quickly glanced over his shoulder; there was no one there. If no one saw it, then he couldn't get in trouble. Scott stepped forward, his feet clicking softly on the ground. His hand reached forward tentatively, slowly reaching for the cheek, which looked soft and, he wondered, possibly cold.

Suddenly, the corpse on the table jerked violently, his eyes snapping open and his mouth gaping in a wide 'O' so he could suck in a loud, jagged breath. Scott gasped and retracted his hand, and beside him, Mae let out a high scream. He shushed her absently, staring wide-eyed at the person on the hospital bed who, just a second ago, had been dead. The man breathed heavily for a moment before calming down and rubbing his eyes. Scott felt like he should turn and run, but his feet felt like they were bolted to the floor.

The man sat up in the hospital bed and let out a low groan, squinting as he looked around the room. When his eyes fell on the two kids staring up at him, he chuckled. "I don't suppose you know why I'm here, huh?" Scott could only shake his head slowly; his tongue felt too dry to form any words, and his throat felt constricted and useless. The man sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wriggling his toes and stretching his limbs. He hopped off with a muffled thump and walked stiffly towards the door, one hand holding his head as he moaned quietly about a headache.

"Wait!" Scott called before he could think about what he was doing. As the man turned back around, he could feel his heart beat erratically in his chest, and he wondered what he had even wanted to say. "You were just dead," he muttered, figuring that summed up his feeling pretty well.

"Bad night," he replied with a shrug.

"And now you're alive." Scott thought he should be winning an award for pointing out the most obvious things in a situation. Still, it was nice to get it out loud, so he could at least hear how insane this was.

"Yeah," he said cheerlessly, "that happens a lot." He was about to turn away again, but Scott stepped forward and held out his hand.

"Please, wait," he begged, and the man turned back to him, looking slightly unnerved. He pulled his hand back and looked at the floor, his mouth suddenly dry again. "My mom," he muttered, "she… she's going to die." He looked back up, expecting to see the flash on pity that he always found in adult's eyes when he said this. There wasn't even a twitch from this man; he just looked eager to leave. "Please help her."

The man's eyes rolled, "Look, kid—"

"Scott. My name is Scott."

"Fine, Scott," he sighed and looked away, not making eye contact. "I can't help your mom. Sorry." From his tone, Scott didn't think he was sorry at all. He thought he was a selfish liar. He wouldn't even look him in the eye!

"You're just going to let her die?" Scott could feel his face turning red, and all the pent up emotions from the news about his mother started to surface. Why did she have to die, when this jerk got to live?

"I can't." The man leaned forward a little, his face stern.

"Yes you can, you liar!" Scott clenched his fists, his throat tightening again, but this time for a different reason. "You were dead just a minute ago, and now you're just fine. Do that to my mom. Please!" His voice cracked, and his eyes started to water. Despite his attempt to look forceful, he could feel his bottom lip quivering pathetically.

"You listen to me," he ordered, stooping lower to stare Scott dead in the eye. His voice was low and menacing, his face severe. "If your mom is going to die, then she's going to die. It's better if she stays that way, do you understand? The less people like me walking around, the better." He stood abruptly and left, leaving Scott to hiccup quietly as he tried not to cry.

From outside the room, he could hear the man walking off quickly, and the surprised shout of a woman. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, and from the voice, Scott could tell it was the nurse from earlier, the one who went to get help to clear the room. "Mr. Harkness?" She called, and the sound of a door slamming open followed immediately. "Jack Harkness!" Running feet and falling objects followed that, and all went calm when the nurse left in pursuit.

Jack Harkness. Scott stored the name for later, a cold pit growing in his stomach.