| To Forget |

"'Don't you see what it means? Power! Power to rule! To make the world grovel at my feet!'" The music dropped, the black and white scene of The Invisible Man reeling through other scenes of the 1933 movie. They were in Sinema, the whole pack. Stiles and Malia were on the sofas, Malia in Stiles' lap making out. They had been on the dancefloor for an hour, dancing hard. Mason and Corey were by the bar, drinking and talking to the latter's friend Tyler. Liam and Hayden were in the mix of it, feasting on the electric energy in the club. In some ways, they were the center of attention, even drawing the gaze of some of the go-go boys. And then there was Scott and Lydia.

On account of Scott's persistent and troubled bachelorhood—as well as Parrish working that evening—they tried to keep each other company. Dance even. It had been awkward at first, just getting the mechanics and general strangeness of it out of the way. A few songs in, however, they finally felt it. Fun. They got lost in the release even after Stiles and Malia left them for the couches when Scott picked up a scent. Lydia could tell something was up, but she didn't get a chance to ask.

"I'll be right back," Scott said, slipping away from her all too quickly. He squeezed through the crowd, passing by couples of all mixes of race, orientation, and likely species. He followed it: Theo's scent. It was so subtle, so masked under lust, sweat, and euphoria that he almost missed it. When he found the source, at the back entrance that was usually locked but unguarded, he found him standing there, holding a folded towel in his hands. "It's Schrader, right?" Scott said, looking over the familiar Eichen orderly, stepping forward slowly. The 30-something looked up. "What're you—"

"I was…asked…to fetch you."

"So, you lured me out…with that?" Schrader stared blankly at him. "You didn't wanna' just come inside?"

Schrader's eyebrow raised. "Are you coming?" Just then the pack filed through the door.

"I don't even know who sent you. Or why."

"Scott?" Malia started.

"Ms. Morrell sent me. It concerns the chimera boy." He peered over Scott's shoulder and spotted Lydia. "Good to see you're feeling better," he said with a creepy smirk. Liam stepped in front of her, his nostrils flaring. Unphased, Schrader looked back at Scott. "Well?"

"Scott, don't," Stiles tried.

"Alright," Scott answered.

"I'm going, too," Liam offered.

"It's by invitation only," Schrader said, glaring at the beta.

"I'm not going alone," the true alpha said. "I don't trust him. Or you."

"Invitation only," the orderly countered.

"What about me?" Lydia said, stepping around Liam. "What if I come with?"

He examined her, considering for a moment, paying no mind to Malia's glare and the others' silent looks of worry and protest directed at the banshee. "Lydia then," he finally said, that creepy smile returning.

"I'll be fine," she said to Stiles, easily the most anxious of them all. Scott gave him a reassuring nod as well, patting Liam on the shoulder.

"Shall we?" Schrader said, pushing open the back exit, no alarm going off.

/ | * | * | \

When they arrived at Eichen House, Schrader drove his van through the guarded rear entrance and parked next to another. Sliding open the side door, Scott and Lydia clambered out, following him inside. He scanned in before leading them to Morrell's office. He knocked and opened the door. Marin Morrell looked up from her vertical-leaning tablet and grinned at them.

"Thank you, Freddie," she said. He sneered at her before walking away. "Please, sit," she said, offering the chairs on the other side of her desk. They sat and she took a sip of her tea. "How've you been?" she asked; the question was directed at both of them, but a careful listener would know she was more interested in the alpha.

"Fine," Lydia answered, Scott nodding; they were both looking at her expectantly.

The druid leaned back, continuing to smile mostly to herself. "Okay. Let me start by saying the last month has been…unconventional. Since your visit, Scott, Theo has started to open up more. He still won't tell me much, and he certainly won't tell me what you did—"

"He won't tell us, either," Lydia grumbled.

"—but whatever it was changed something in him."

"And you believe him?" Scott asked, skeptical now more than ever.

"I believe what you did affected him," Morrell answered. "All of what he's told me…well, given his history, and my own diagnosis, I take it all with a grain of salt. It appears genuine and so I can only work with what I'm given."

"What exactly has he told you?" Lydia asked.

"That, I'm afraid, I can't share."

Lydia and Scott glanced at each other, their looks identical. "It was worth a try," Lydia said. Scott's resigned but concurred when his phone buzzed.

/ Everything ok? / / He hasn't escaped has he? /

Stiles, naturally. Scott answered back when Lydia continued. "So why are we here? I can't imagine it's for a little update/non-update. And we're not high school students so we're not here for a guidance session."

Morrell smirked. "I have a theory, a question, and a proposal. Scott, what did you do that afternoon?"

The true alpha didn't answer at first. He hadn't wanted to tell anyone. He didn't want to admit he'd been duped because of a crush. He felt guilty enough as it were, that if Theo hadn't blinded him, all those people may still be alive. Yet, he had to tell them something. A piece of the truth, perhaps? "I learned something, about what alphas can do with memories," Scott tried. "I mean, I knew something about it, but this was different. Not only can I see someone's memories, or enter their psyche," he continued, glancing knowingly at Lydia, "or even take memories—which I've never done—but I can share them. So, I gave Theo a few. Shared how I saw him—at least before he betrayed us."

"Why?" Morrell said.

Scott shrugged. "I know he's incapable of empathy. I read that in psych class. He's a psychopath, right?" Morrell looked curiously at him. "I thought…maybe if I shared my own perspective with him, share someone else's emotions, maybe I could help him feel something. Turn on his empathy…if that's even a thing," he added, a light smile appearing.

"I suppose that's even more than I expected," Morrell said, "but I think it started to work." Scott and Lydia looked at her, shock donning both their faces. "He's exhibiting signs of remorse. He's still in a state of denial, even trying to keep up the façade, but I believe you opened up his ability to feel guilt."

"I…wow…" Scott breathed.

Morrell sat forward, he elbows digging into her desk. "I've never seen anything like it to be completely honest. Treatment of psychopathy is bound to various levels of therapy. There are no drugs, nor surgical stimulations, nothing. And therapy has truthfully produced moderate success at best. This…this is different. He remained entirely silent the first two weeks after your visit. He'd been chatty since his arrival, driving many of the patients and some of the orderlies mad with his jabber. The oral bounds you saw on Peter have also been used on Theo. After that first week, when Theo stared talking again, he lost the sarcasm and the ego at first. There was a level of introspection. Of course, the sarcasm and the ego did come back. His mind likely started rationalizing things, but, Scott, you really unlocked something in him."

"So what do you want him for?" Lydia said, her academic brain now fully engaged.

"I want him to go back in, but deeper."

"You want me to what?" Scott said.

"I was just going to plant the seed," Morrell confessed, "give you some time to think and contemplate. But with Lydia here, I'm just going to ask you both outright: Alan told me how you saved Stiles, how you forced the separation between him and the nogitsune. I want to know if you'll try it with Theo."

"But he's not possessed," Scott said, confused.

"No. Not exactly. His condition, by all understanding, is neurobiological, not supernatural. Well, with most certainty; we don't actually know if he let his sister die of his own volition or if the Dread Doctors tampered with him beforehand. I suspect not with what Valack's tapes indicate. Or rather, what you said to him, Lydia."

"He showed the signs before they came," Lydia confirmed, thinking back to her visions.

"If that is the case," Morrell continued, "yes, your journey into his psyche will be different. Quite different, I'm sure. But if you find it traversable, if you find that you can affect him in the same light as you did before, try. You have nothing to lose at this point."

Scott looked at his former guidance counselor, unsure, while Lydia looked at him, almost encouraging and excited. "What about consent?" he said, almost challenging, hoping to cover for his fear of what he might find, or worse not being able to help.

"The nogitsune was in command of Stiles' body when you did this before. You didn't have his consent.

"But that was diff—"

"It wasn't, not really. If Stiles developed a tumor in his brain that caused him to turn violent and homicidal, and you bite could cure him, but didn't consent, maybe even tried to harm or kill you in the process, would you do it anyway?"

"Stiles doesn't want to be a werewolf. Under any circumstance. And even they my bite could kill him."

Morrell smirked. "Those issues aside? This is a hypothetical, Scott." She sat back, watching him carefully.

Scott paused, considering what was truly being asked. He looked at Lydia and when he saw he own smirk he looked down at her feet against the desk. He contemplated, regarding himself not bright enough for this thought experiment. But then he remembered the sick dogs, the ones that didn't like needles. Their bared teeth and growls, yet their docile and warm behavior after it was all over. "Yeah, I would."

Morrell genuinely smiled. "Psychopathy is like a tumor, Scott, we just can't treat it the same way. But you, you might be able to in this case. The question is, will you try?" Scott just looked at her, struggling with the analogy—and the proposal. "Would it help if we asked him first?" Scott nodded. "And if he says 'no?'" Scott didn't have a forthcoming answer.

"What would 'Dr. McCall' do?" Lydia asked with a grin.

He paused again, but then smiled back at her. "I'd still do it."

/ | * | * | \

"Are you okay with doing this? I mean, are you sure?" Scott looked at Lydia as they walked side by side from Morrell's office towards Theo's cell.

"No, I'm not. Last time was no cake walk. But I'm excited, too. In a way. What if it works?"

"You mean if he turns good?"

"It's not black and white if you think about it. In the tumor example, or even if it were some disease, not only does he not have consent, he isn't really in control. In a way, at least. I mean, none of us are, but that's not the point right now. Theo, his brain isn't allowing him to access things about himself, things that you and I can. Let's try and give it to him."

"You should consider psychology, Lydia," Morrell said ahead of them. "You both should."

"Scott is going to be a doctor and I have my eyes set on solving the Stark conjectures," Lydia affirmed.

"Do I want to know what that means?" Scott teased with a smile. She rolled her eyes but smiled when he looked forward again. They walked the rest of the way in silence and, when Theo came into view, they saw he was no longer bound to a chair; instead, he was curled up on his mattress resting atop a plastic frame. He sat up when he saw bodies stop at his window.

"Scott? Lydia?" he said, rolling his feet onto the floor. He looked hellish, the gloss to his reddened eyes the giveaway.

"How are you tonight?" Morrell asked the chimera. Theo shrugged. "Are you tired?"

"Not really."

She smiled at him. "I asked Scott here tonight because I was hoping you'd be up for exploring a new technique as part of your therapy."

"I'm not in the mood to talk," he said, exhaustion and a distant coldness to it.

Before Morrell could explain, Scott offered, "We don't have to. Actually, it's kinda' dangerous. But, I think it's worth a shot."

"To do what?" the chimera said.

Scott considered his words, trashing the immediate phrase, 'fix you,' that came to mind. "The memories I gave you…is there anything you want now that you've had time to think about them?" After Scott finished the question his strength and confidence vacillated only briefly; worry made him hope that Theo's answer wasn't 'you.' He couldn't take that, not yet. He hadn't allowed himself to go there. And then of course with Lydia standing there, that wouldn't bode well between them let alone any potential fallout with the pack.

To Scott's relief, Theo answered, "I'm not sure."

"Then, can you trust me? You owe me that. Both of us." The alpha heard the pang before he saw it in the boy's eyes; Morrell had been right, he had changed something in Theo.

The 'first chimera' looked from Scott to Lydia and to Scott again. There was a brief somber-like waver in his eyes. "Okay," he finally said.

"You ready?" Scott said, turning to the red-head. Lydia nodded and Morrell opened the door. Theo stood, looking at the pair hesitantly. "Sit there," Scott instructed, pointing to an area of the floor towards the window. Lydia took a familiar position towards Theo's left, both sitting cross-legged. "Don't move," Scott said, sitting on his legs behind them. He breathed deeply a few times before his red eyes appeared. He raised his clawed hands, lined the tips carefully, and pushed forward…

Scott and Lydia were standing on a bridge. As they looked around they realized it wasn't just any bridge; it was that bridge. To Scott's visual memory, it was where Theo paid his respects to Tara after she had died. To Lydia's, it was where he watched as she froze to death in the creek below. Overhead, there was a full moon, the brightness of it catching Scott's attention. Lydia, however, looked down at the creek.

"Scott, c'mere," she said. He stepped forward, following her gaze. Down in the water they could make out snippets of memories, like preview blocks on a computer. Noticeably in one is a very close upward view of the Beast before the view is knocked away. Another, however, is a young Theo, being looked at rather than his own point of view. Scott pulled away and turned to lean his back on the railing. Lydia looked at him. "Now what?"

Scott was about to answer with uncertainty when he could make out subtle voices off in the distance to his right. "Come on, this way," he said. He took her hand and led them into the pitch-black woods. While thick from the vantage of the bridge, the forest turned shallow. In only a minute they seemed to be coming out of it. When it cleared, they were on a sidewalk, standing across the street from a suburban house—the only one on the never-ending road. The pair walked up to the house, the windows emitting light from each room. They walked in, the door unlocked.

At first, it looked like a crowded house party. At second glance, though, they realized that not only was everyone dressed in the same dark shirt and jeans, but they were all Theo. Nevertheless, the differences between them were distinguished in the hue of their eyes, each sclera aglow in assorted colors of the spectrum; even closer they could see the glow had an electric aura to them. Some of the Theos acted clique-like, gathered in circles and have incomprehensible conversations, while others travelled from group to group. "What the hell?" Scott said. All the Theos suddenly stopped talking and turned to glare at Scott. The pause was only momentary and each one returned to their rapid-paced chatter.

"They're neurons," Lydia whispered in his ear. He looked at her, confused, forcing Lydia to shake her head at him. She grabbed his hand and gently led him through the crowds of Theos, careful not to disrupt any of them. They got stares as they passed, but gentler ones. Scott was unsure of what she was looking for when she opened the screen door to the backyard. Outside, they found themselves on a short deck with about 30 more replicas. By the griller two of them were chatting, yet, that was all; the rest were slumped over, seemingly asleep. Scott moved to touch one, try to rouse it, but Lydia caught him. "We don't know what that'll screw up," she said, eliciting a glare from the two to their left.

When they reverted, Scott leaned over and whispered, "What then?"

"Howling worked with Stiles," she whispered back.

"Theo's not part of the pack," he replied quietly. "I'm not sure he ever was."

Lydia shrugged. "I don't know. Try it, see if it works. If not, we try something else."

Scott hesitated, looking around and back inside. After looking at the slumped over forms, though, he decided. He built up his lungs. His eyes began to glow. His features began to change. He looked up at the full moon before opening his fanged mouth and let out a great roar. At first the chatty pair looked pissed, even ready to attack. But when his howl quieted and his look of disappointment showed, the rest started to slowly show signs of arousal. In moments they were all awake, blinking, confused even. When their eyes landed on Scott and Lydia, though, suddenly, the foreign duo's vision began to painfully blur. They doubled over, sinking to the ground. It lasted only for a moment.

When they stood only Theo was there; even the house was now empty. He was on the ground, hunched over, his face buried in his hands. He was audibly sobbing. "Theo?" Scott tried. Nothing. The boy kept crying. Under his breath Scott could hear, 'I'm sorry,' being repeated at a rapid pace. The sky and ground began to rumble and shake. They exchanged a look before turning back to him.

They were stuck now, until Lydia turned to grab his arm. "Scott, one of the side effects of guilt is anxiety, followed by depression. He's probably just been flooded with realization. Every memory is being reexamined by the freed part of his brain. You need to communicate that it's not his fault."

"How?"

"You need to believe. You need to picture him as you want him to be. Show him that it isn't his fault, that he was sick. That you forgive him, or better that there's nothing to forgive." He just stared at her, unsure, doubt taking hold. "I know it's a lot, but you have to muster everything together. We might lose him if we don't."

Scott nodded, taking another deep breath. He walked up to Theo, crouched next to him, sliding his claws into the back of his neck. He pictured the night of the supermoon. He removed the haunting feelings of betrayal. Removed the feeling of his life draining as they stood with Theo's claws embedded in his chest. He wrote over it. This isn't you, he thought. This is the disease. He pictured the hug—the real one. In his living room. It's warm. Unexpected, but welcome more than anything. It's all he could've asked for. This is you. I knew it from the start. You were sick. You had no say. But now you do. I believe in you. The good inside you. It's awake now. So join me. Join us.

Scott removed his claws and fell back. The world had stopped shaking. The sobs in front of him have ceased. Theo pulled his hands away slowly. He looked at the ground. He blinked. Catching the shoes in his upper peripheral, he slowly looked up. He met Scott's gaze. "Scott?" he said weakly…

The true alpha was familiarly jettisoned back into the physical world. He could see that Ms. Morrell was no longer alone; both Dr. Deaton and Fenris were there as well. Lydia's movement snapped his attention to the pair in front of him. He slid around to kneel in front of her. "Are you okay?" he said urgently. She felt the back of her neck, the wound painful, but nodded and gave him a tried smile. He looked over at Theo and their eyes met. The chimera looked flabbergasted, totally in awe. And exhausted, his eyes red and sunken.

"Theo?" Scott tried. Theo's trance broke at the sound of his voice. He lunged forward. But it wasn't to attack, it was for an embrace. He started crying. It wasn't out of guilt or sorrow. It was out of joy. Gratitude. Awakening, as if he'd been castaway or in a coma.