What about him?

Still half asleep, Leo opens one eye just a little bit to see that there is light in his room. He'd been in the middle of a dream... what had woken him? He feels the bed move, and for a moment, he wonders what on earth was with him in bed. Oh yes... Cassy had spent the night. Had she cared for him more? He thinks he remembers her bringing a cold cloth in the night. Thinking about it for a few seconds, he concludes that he didn't have a fever anymore, though he was very tired and a bit sore too.

Rolling over onto his back, he squints sleepily to see Cassy sitting on the edge of the bed. She really was something special to have stayed to make sure he was okay.

"I didn't expect you to really stay," he comments quietly, his voice hoarse and scratchy. "What time is it?"


"Ahhh!" Eli gives a holler and sits bolt upright as he's bombarded with popcorn. He had been sound asleep. Feeling the popcorn hit him and roll down his shirt had brought on images of some horrible creatures or insects, adding to his already-weird dream.

Spotting Ryan laughing with the popcorn bowl, his eyes narrow, though the corners of his mouth start to twitch as he tries to keep from smiling. "You twerp." Rubbing a hand over his face, he then eyes her skeptically. "Did you just call me lover boy?"

He gets up off the couch and moves towards her, threatening to tickle her or at least drag her onto the floor, but he stops and straightens quite abruptly. Reaching to his back, he does a little dance but is unsuccessful so finally he sheds his shirt, sending bits of popcorn onto the floor.

"Fine way to wake a man up," he complains, though humor dances in his eyes. "I'll have to warn Alec about that one. No more popcorn for you." He points a finger at her in a teasing warning. "What time is it anyway?"

Looking around for the clock, it's to his dismay that he finds he has very little time to make it to work. "Aww man!" Springing over the couch, he jogs down the hall. "Dibs on the shower!" he calls over his shoulder.


"So what is the goal?"

"To let go of my anger so I can deal with the Agency crap." Scott's eyes stay glued to the floor in Dr. Hawks' office. He hadn't run away from sessions the last couple days. Hope had brought Domino once and that had distracted him for a while. Fighting the data in his mind though had become almost constant and he was growing so tired of trying to conquer it. But if he let go for even a few moments, he could get trapped again, but a second time and there might not be a way out again. He was still here... still stuck... still miserable. But he knew he needed help getting back on his feet now. Maybe he'd known it all along and just hadn't wanted to admit it. But with this whole data thing, he knew he needed to do something about it. Unfortunately, in order to get there, he needed to quit being angry and scared of the data he was seeing so that he could adequately deflect it when it came to mind.

Dr. Hawks smirks at him a little. "Okay. I prefer to call it data, but we can call it crap if you want."

Scott's eyes rise to meet his. "I'm tired."

"I know. But what will happen if you don't work through this?"

"I'll die lonely and miserable in a mental institution somewhere, locked in a padded room."

"Well... yeah, you might." Dr. Hawks leans forward on his desk, folding his hands. The last few days had been typical. Scott wanted help but was scared and hurt. He wanted to hold onto his anger, which was keeping him from adjusting to any other problems he had. One thing that had been accomplished though, was with Hope's help, Scott was finally willing to share bits and pieces of his story, so Dr. Hawks could get a better grasp on what was going on. Aside from all that was the medical perspective, which showed Scott's declining health due to lack of eating. "Scott... do you want to get better? I mean... really want to?"

Scott shrugs. "Why wouldn't I? You think this if fun?"

"No, I think it's probably quite miserable. But sometimes we like the way anger feels. It doesn't make sense, but sometimes anger gives us a feeling of control. If we can stay angry, then someone can't hurt us as much - or so we think." Dr. Hawks cocks his head. "Sound familiar?"

Scott's gaze lowers again and he picks at the arm of the chair he was sitting in.

"Or maybe... it's not really the Agency you're angry with."

Scott pauses and eventually looks up once more. "Well it wasn't anybody else who tortured me and left me to rot."

Dr. Hawks sighs deeply and leans back in his chair, studying Scott. He'd learned a lot in the last couple days, about Scott's personality and the way he functioned. Maybe to some, it looked like they had gotten nowhere, but Dr. Hawks believed they had. "When someone wrongs you, what do you usually do?"

"Depends on what they do."

"Say they steal something from you."

"I tell them to give it back."

"And if they don't?"

"I call the cops, or arrest them myself, for that matter."

"What if they apologize?"

"I guess I'm supposed to forgive them."

"Do you?"

Scott thinks for a moment. "Eventually."

"What if they give back whatever they stole?"

"It's easier to forgive them."

"What if whatever it was got broken while in their possession?"

Scott purses his lips and shrugs. "I guess if it wasn't that important to me, it doesn't matter much. But if it was important, then I gotta see if they're really sorry."

"Before you forgive them, you mean?"

"I guess. I'm supposed to forgive them. Hard sometimes, but I try."

"What about the Agency?"

Scott grits his teeth. "I guess I just haven't gotten there yet."

Dr. Hawks studies his face. "Haven't you? If one of those men was brought in here and I left you two alone, what would you do?"

"Would he be armed?"

"No. He'd be in handcuffs at least, unable to fight. What would you do?"

Scott has to think about that one, imagining that scenario. He'd finally gotten to the point that he'd play along with Dr. Hawks. It made Hope smile when he told her they had a good session, so that was as good a reason as any. "I'd stare him straight in the eye and tell him to look at what he created. Then I'd tell him that I would hope he could live with himself, knowing what he'd done."

"You wouldn't beat him to a pulp?"

"I'd want to... but no."

"Why not?"

"Bigger impact not to, don't you think?"

"And in the end... would you have forgiven him?"

"I guess... kinda. There'd be some closure there. I could finally have the upper hand. I'd be the one in control, not him. He'd be the one at my mercy. And that would be enough for me to let it go."

"And move on?"

"Yeah."

Dr. Hawks opens his desk drawer and pulls out a mirror, pushing it across to Scott. "What about him?"

Scott glances down in the mirror, his jaw automatically tightening. He picks up the mirror for a moment and looks at his reflection. His face was thin... pale... his blind eye was a stark reminder of what had happened to him. His stomach tightens and he puts the mirror face-down on the desk. Looking back to Dr. Hawks, his eyes have a new, cold burn in them. "What about him?"

"Can you forgive him, too?"

"For what?" Scott's tone has become rigid.

"For not being able to protect himself."

Scott's leg bounces slightly before he stands up, pacing away from the desk. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Unfortunately, he'd just shown his hand, and Dr. Hawks knew it. "Yes you do, Scott. Where does the core of your anger lie? Is it really with the Agency? Or is it with yourself for allowing them to do to you what they did?"

There was no window to look out. Only pictures. Scott finds a painting to stare at, his back to Dr. Hawks. This conversation struck a little too close to home. Had he been aiming his anger in the wrong direction? Had he just been afraid to admit it?

Scott feels his defenses start to weaken as his emotions begin to churn. A brief flashback of his cell allows a piece of data to attach itself to a memory and try to pull his mind away from the subject at hand. Feeling it coming on, Scott tries to refocus, knowing he had to distract himself. "Who did this painting?"

Dr. Hawks lifts his eyebrows at the sudden change. "I'm... not sure. Why?"

"I like the colors... the blues and greens... it's pretty."

"Well, thank you. Does this... apply to our conversation?"

"No. I was just... commenting." A bead of sweat runs down the side of Scott's face. Had he thwarted the data's attempt? He thinks for a moment, satisfied that he was still lucid. Turning back to Dr. Hawks he wanders back to the chair and sits down again, slouching his shoulders. "I've always been weak."

"Didn't you have any training in the Elite?"

"Not much to start out. What's the tech guy gotta know? When I was on suspension, Gunner put me through some paces and I learned enough to get away if one or two tried to jump me but..." Scott shakes his head. "I just wasn't good enough to defend myself. I just... didn't have the strength."

"You're only human, Scott."

"I know!" Scott's hand balls into a fist as his anger flares. "But I shoulda done more. I... I should have."

"From what I hear, it was incredible that you made it out of there alive at all."

"Yeah, and look at me now."

"I am, and I see someone who just needs a little help finding the way up again, that's all."

"I need a padded room somewhere."

"I don't believe that." Dr. Hawks could feel his hold on Scott starting to slip. "What you do need is to forgive yourself. Once you can do that, anger will no longer have a foothold. But you have to decide to do it. It can't be me, it can't be Hope... this is something you have to do... inside. You have to let go."


...Scott sits on the bench alongside the walking path, elbows resting on his knees. A soft breeze blew the tree above him, while the sun tried to peek through the waving branches. But his soul was far less peaceful as he replays his session with Dr. Hawks. He'd walked out... first time in days. He just... had a hard time facing up to the fact that maybe this whole thing was because he was more angry at himself than anything. Was it true? It was hard enough to deal with that it would appear so.

Sitting back on the bench, he stuffs his hands in his hoodie pockets. Anyone else outside today would be in short sleeves. But it seemed he'd been more cold lately. Sighing, he glances down the path to the parking lot. Hope would be here soon.