Fighting

Having Sapphire push him up against the wall, Scott cringes, flinching at her quick movements. Cornered with nowhere to go, he glares into her eyes, panic bubbling beneath the surface as a flashback tried to worm its way into his mind. But anger remained at the top, controlling any other feelings that raged through his veins. 

Sapphire's words stung like daggers, but he doesn't move or try to respond. It didn't matter - she had taken control of the situation and wouldn't let him talk anyway. 

Watching her walk away, Scott almost yells after her, but he knows there are other people here too - it wasn't just the two of them, and he didn't want to cause any more of a scene than they already had. 

Hot tears well behind his eyes as he fumbles for his billfold, throwing money on the table for a meal hardly touched. Then it was his turn to leave. Getting in his car, he doesn't think twice about going back to TJY. He wouldn't let this thing beat him. He wouldn't. He had a life to live and it wasn't going to come to a screeching halt just because his sister was getting involved with a scumbag like Gage. 

Parking and going inside, Scott doesn't even see the other people around him. He makes a beeline for his office, finding Dalton still there - probably never having moved. Scott hadn't been gone all that long. 

Taking his jacket off, he throws it in the corner and flops down in his chair a little harder than usual, a scowl on his face. He doesn't even greet his big friend, but stares at his blank computer screen. A tear runs down the side of his cheek as his mind replays Sapphire's actions. 

Ignoring Dalton's presence altogether, he gets to his  feet again, this time heading downstairs and to the rec room. Glad no one else was down there, he turns on one corner light just enough to navigate around the equipment. Bumping up against a punching bag, he doesn't hesitate before throwing his fist at it. And it felt good. Not bothering with gloves, Scott throws another punch and another, first a right, then a left, blinded by lack of sight and by a few more tears that clouded his vision. 

No one would hear him crying out behind the closed door as sweat started to run down his face. Another swing, and another came until his knuckles were battered and bloodied, but he didn't stop. All his eyes saw were Agency men. He was fighting them.. fighting the room... fighting the torture... fighting himself.