The road

Scott listens quietly to Hope, half paying attention, and half letting his mind wander. He knew his friends cared about him... and deep down, he knew he wasn't really crazy. He just couldn't get his mind to cope. She was right.

He can't help but be surprised at Hope letting him go, and he turns, his eyebrows raised. His hand slips off the window and he just looks at her, trying to understand. Rick had tried so hard to get him to come... had done everything but threaten him. And now... Hope was just going to let him go?

Scott lets his eye study her face and her own eyes, trying to understand her methods...trying to understand where she was coming from and why she was willing to let him go.


"God, please watch over Scott." Rick's words were whispered as he sat at his desk, his hands folded, his head resting on them. "I don't know what's happening in his heart and mind, but You do. Please...please bring him comfort. Somehow, some way... don't let him go. If the clinic is where he can get the help he needs, please.... somehow help him to see it and stay." His prayer was a plea for his coworker... a plea for his friend... a plea for a member of this close-knit family. "Show him how to live again... show him the road he has to take."


Scott swallows hard and opens his mouth to respond, but what could he say? He really didn't want to be here. He wanted to go back out to the car and have Katie take him home. Even TJY would be better than this, though he was so tired of being in the infirmary. This was one of the first times someone was letting him make up his own mind.

Finally making up his mind, he turns to make his way slowly back to the door. His hand was shaking a little as he gripped the knob, though he didn't know why. It was as if an invisible force was trying to make him stay, while his emotions were driving him away.

Looking over his shoulder once more, he sees Hope again, feeling as though he'd just wasted her time. Then in a quick movement, he opens the door as if scared if he didn't, he never would.

His blind eye to the left, he doesn't even see one of the secretaries walking by. Taken completely off guard, the crash is over in a second, but the damage is done.

The secretary gives a little shriek, totally surprised by the door suddenly opening, and she doesn't have enough time to stop. Papers, pens, paperclips and folders cascade to the floor in one big mess. She stumbles backward a couple steps to regain her balance, her eyes wide.

Scott, however, didn't have enough balance in the first place, and is taken right off his feet. The collision sends him ricocheting off the wall and stumbling to the floor. His weak wrist buckles and one of his knees scrapes the floor hard, burning his skin. Without the gumption to catch himself well, he falls hard, increasing the shock.

His face red, he tries to right himself, but the incident has taken its toll. Nothing had changed. He couldn't see well enough, he was a klutz at the least, and all he was capable of was embarrassing himself. What was the point? He wasn't good for anything but causing trouble and getting in people's way.

The mockery rings in his ears. Words of the past, but still so fresh. Words that convinced him he was no good. Words that convinced him he was worthless. They had been right... it had all been true.

Though on his feet again, the words of the secretary's apology fade into a foggy oblivion. Scott doesn't even realize that he's slid to the floor again, this time his knees tucked up against his chest, his arms around his legs in a protective position that had served to block out the world for over two months.

Rocking slightly, he closes his eyes tight to keep out the tears. Part of his mind knew that this wasn't necessary...that all he was doing was making a scene. But the other part of his mind had lost it's grip on reality, holding him here like a whipped and terrified puppy. There was nothing here to fear, yet the terror still surged through his veins.