Scott Smith

hih

[cmcreid-warriorprincess]

Carrie let out a dramatic gasp as he knocked the giant card into the trash, shaking her head and fighting off a smile. "Guilty as charged, Smith. You'll have to write me up," she added with a grin before setting down the goods. She lingered a moment, watching him with a small smile. It was just nice to see him back home, you know? "But first-," she started, leaning closer to him before quickly turning away, "Belly scratches." Two-Face was already on her back, ready and waiting. Carrie gave Two-Face a lifetime of scratches first, patting her head to finish off.

"You're so cute," she whispered, letting out a little laugh before turning back to Scott. "You're pretty cute, too." Carrie made her way over, hopping up onto the space the 'get well soon' card had been occupying with ease. "Full disclosure, you might want to let the tea brew for, um, a while longer. There are some concerns about the tea bag to water ratio. Hence, the scotch." Plus, her ploy to wine and dine. Carrie was trying her best not to move too fast. She was also doing her best not to be overly worried about him.

"Do you have glasses? For the scotch."

[scott-smith-hih]

Scott did not feel any remorse for his actions despite Carrie's theatrics. "That's bribery. I damn well will write you up." He attempted to return her smile with one of his own but to his surprise he was already fashioning one. He quickly realised she was going to age him with laugh lines and crow's feet before he'd have a chance to object, and while he wasn't that vain it was simply an observation, because he would never be able to return the favour. She'd look just as she looked now, forever. It didn't bother him. It didn't bother him half as much as being called 'cute'.

"Excuse me?" He huffed, almost as dramatically as she had gasped. "Nothing I have ever done has been cute." It did bother him to be characterised as cute, he thought, but in a shock to his system it actually really didn't when coming from her. Still, he wasn't going to admit to that. Instead, he steeped his tea with fervour upon her honesty, almost with genuine concern for its wellbeing. "At least you came with backup," he muttered, surrendering the tea to brew on its own accord while he tried his best to not accelerate his laugh lines any further. This was going to be hard work, he could tell.

Procuring two glasses from a desk drawer, he poured them both expert measures. "Cheers," he held up his glass to toast, "to barely being alive." He downed it in one to quickly refill the second which could then be savoured slowly. "You're doing well with your wining and dining. It's working." He smiled, again. This was going to be really hard work.

[cmcreid-warriorprincess]

Dead. The word sat between them despite being left unspoken. Because it was true, she was dead. She had died. Carrie and Ruby, and Karen. It was too much, it was all just too much for her heart to handle. If her senses weren't so heightened and so suddenly attuned to his every move, she would have lost it again. None of this felt real, she didn't feel real. The pounding of his heart and unfamiliar gentleness to his words didn't feel real. Carrie only managed to look at him again when he was kneeling down in front of her.

"I... I just wanted to get out of there. I just ran. I didn't think-," she started, closing her eyes while a few surviving tears made their way down her face. She was trying to focus on him - his words - but it was so difficult. We lost. They lost. You're not okay. She wasn't. The loss from this mission was unbearable, insurmountable, and this was only the beginning. Carrie had hid here in the dark, but she knew the aftermath and consequences were only a door away. What did she know was true?

"I think it was a trap. Everything was... They were waiting for us. This is what they wanted, what he wanted-," Carrie shook her head. Nothing she had learned could have prepared her for facing Edward Carrington. Why did they think they stood a chance? There was an unbearable pounding in her head now and a pain in her gums she didn't want to think about. And Scott had broken a glass. She looked at him helplessly, already choking on the words she dreaded most in the world. "I was dying, I was dead. I was-... Al- Alex did it to save me, I know he did it to save me. But I- I-... I'm not okay."

[scott-smith-hih]

"Fine," Scott attempted to interrupt her as he realised then that he didn't need Carrie to justify her being here. He resented that he'd asked, and her tears made sure that the feeling stung. "That's fine. Stay as long as you like." He hesitated in the unknown and unfamiliar before tentatively settling down next to her. He would stay here as long as she liked.

"It was a trap," and Scott had played his part in it so well, so unwittingly. Sitting here in the dark, watching his desk be the centrepiece of his office, if not his entire life after the dome, he felt his blood build back up to a rolling boil. He saw himself sit there during days and nights spent pouring over reports and plans for this godforsaken mission. She'd been right there, both of them counting down the minutes 'till go. She was going to go on a vacation. A family vacation. Edward might have taken that from her, but the whole Institute were to blame. Himself included. "I'm just... so fucking angry, Carrie," he gritted his teeth, "and so fucking sorry."

Her shaking voice carried such heavy burdens, and her eyes pleaded for something Scott didn't know how to give. It wasn't his role to be a support. He wrapped his arm around her nonetheless. It felt like lead, and his hand stung against her shirt. He wanted her to go on that vacation. "He's an arse," he said, finally, because that much was still true of Alex. There was a barrage of things he could say about that fool's choices, but it was hard to argue that he himself wasn't relieved or thankful to have her back in this moment. "I wouldn't expect you to be okay. Just sit here. Be whatever you need to be."

[notprofessorx-avier]

"Ouch," Xavier grinned. There was no doubt that Scott was one tough cookie but Xavier wasn't a quitter. He'd warm up to him eventually, right? Besides, anyone Carmen backed was cool with him. He gave him a quick once over, refraining from asking to see his wound (for research purposes, of course). "Are you glad to be out of the slammer?"

Xavier smiled to himself as Scott agreed. Who could resist a good email, right? "Thank you very much, I appreciate it. First file has few of our old agents in it, if you can run recognition on the outskirts of the dome, that would be awesome. Second... A few injuries caused by magic - dark magic. Can you get run them against the med database and see if anything matches?" @scott-smith-hih

[scott-smith-hih]

"Traded one for another. This one has better lighting. And listen," Scott held up his hand to signal Xavier to shut the hell up if that was even a possibility, "hear that?" The sound of sweet, sweet nothing. What could be better? Solitude, of course, but Scott found that to be an increasingly unlikely blessing.

"There's no magic 'recognition' button. That one's going to take a few hours. I'll have to call Callie first, of course, and that could take... days." Scott subdued a gleeful smile at that, but sadly he had no excuse for Xavier's second request. Simple data analysis was his magic, and the operation predictably returned his own name, thanks to Juliette, amongst some forgettable ones. "Well, what dataset do you need? Names? Dates? Favourite colour?" That survey was a waste of time.

[deranged-dean]

So Dean hadn't knocked–sue him. As far as he had known, his presence had been requested. Considering Scott had been in medical for so long, it was a wonder he hadn't been called for sooner. "If you don't want me here I can fucking go, but I have a text that says otherwise." He didn't know how he had become the official barber of the Underground, but it was something to do. It wasn't like he was getting paid for it though, so if Scott had changed his mind, that was fine by him.

[scott-smith-hih]

Scott was bewildered, to say the least, at Dean Argent's presence, let alone the accusation that he would have ever texted him. "Excuse me?" He scoffed, showing his British colours. He was so sure, in fact, that he doubled down, "do you fuck," because Scott didn't text anyone. People texted him, sure, like Danny's mass text about whatever the fuck, but it was far below him to respond. No, if he needed anything, he'd much sooner call.

[j-amiemcarthur]

In all honesty, Jamie had been standing outside his door for about fifteen minutes, pacing and going back and forth on whether or not she should even bother, but ever since they last spoke in the med bay, she had been feeling icky. She hadn't meant what she had said to him, at least not where Carrie was concerned, and since then she had successfully gotten herself returned to the med bay twice! It was embarrassing more than anything, but all that aside, she had wanted to apologise to Scott.

Finally biting the bullet, she opened the door with more force than she had intended to and practically stumbled into his office. "Oof! Hello!" Jamie looked back at the door like it had committed some crime against her. "I think your hinges need whatever the opposite of WD-40 is." She released a nervous laugh and held out a peace offering, "Tea?"

[scott-smith-hih]

Whoever was pacing outside the door for fifteen minutes had held Two-Face's attention for way too fucking long, and if they didn't make a decision sometime soon Scott thought his dog might actually bark for once. Luckily for her, her curiosity was settled by - unluckily for him - Jamie, a continuous pain in his arse.

"How gallant," Scott said of her entry, an eyebrow involuntarily raised at the fact that she didn't spill the tea she offered him despite her seemingly best efforts. "Tea by an American, always a gamble." He still accepted it though, as it could hardly be worse than the mud in med bay. He sipped it tentatively, too pre-occupied by her lingering existence in his office to even decipher if it was passable or not, "you're meant to fuck off if you've been discharged, you know. We're trying to run a secret operation down here."

[cmcreid-warriorprincess]

For the first time in what felt like forever, Carrie was standing at Scott's office door and she didn't feel any apprehension. It was late and it was quiet - no heart rate monitors, no night nurses, no prying eyes. No reason to feel guilty, no reason to feel confused. No reason to knock. Carrie was a little nervous, maybe. She'd wanted to hide away with him here, in their place, for so long and now she didn't want to mess it up.

Her knuckles tapped gently against the door, but she didn't wait for him to get up and answer. He was, after all, just released. She quite expertly balanced the tea pot, bags of chips, and a new bottle of scotch in her arms while pushing open the door. She could hear Two Face's tail hitting against the sofa as it wagged, a bright grin already on her face as she turned to them both.

"Hi." Carrie couldn't help giving him a quick once over - still okay, still breathing, no obvious pain. "I like your giant 'get well soon' card." @scott-smith-hih

[scott-smith-hih]

If it hadn't been for the absolutely uncalled for tokens of sympathy some of his colleagues and acquaintances had left behind in his office one might think Scott had never left. The familiar stacks of papers were there, waiting to be analysed and filed. The dim blue light of his monitors was not really doing much for his complexion but when had they ever? The buzzing of his hard-working computer was a welcome reprieve from that constant fucking beeping in med bay. This was his sanctuary, and yet, he was not at ease.

Something was missing, Carrie was missing, and even though he knew she would be there at any moment now, it was never going to be the same. Not in a bad way, necessarily, just not the same. It stung at his stomach - normal people might call them butterflies, but to Scott they were bees, and he was fucking allergic. A whispered "shit" left him as the door knocked.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair as Carrie entered, and Two Face perfectly captured their shared feeling of apprehensive but somewhat contained excitement. That feeling wasn't new - he'd born that cross for the better half of a year now. He'd prepared a deep breath to respond to her 'hi' with a simple 'hello' but as she pointed out the card he immediately exerted all that energy on knocking it into the bin where it belonged, and providing space for her. "Is that scotch? Are you trying to wine and dine me, McReid?"

[scott-smith-hih]

PROMPT 008 - Formative Influences

Fictional Characters: Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn Nine Nine Gregory House from House M.D Roy Kent from Ted Lasso Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice

[cmcreid-warriorprincess]

The glass shattered and she flinched, the sound pounding in her ears and around her head. It was too loud, too sharp. The smell of scotch and smoke, and him filled the room. Carrie hadn't moved yet, scared to further break the fragile space between them. Her eyes looked down at the broken glass first, then to his shoes and the legs of his chair. She didn't breathe. She didn't have to breathe. She realised she could have stared forever, unmoving and unbreathing and she felt a sudden crash of despair take hold in her chest.

It was then she looked up, meeting his eye in the dim light, a small gasp falling from her lips. She could hear his heartbeat. She could see the clench of his jaw. She... She saw him. Scott, human. Scott, alive. Carrie suddenly felt so jealous she could have screamed and so irrational she could have cried. Did she have any tears left to shed tonight? She was sure to find out.

There was something else, too. Something. He must have thought she was dead - she was. He must have known what it meant that she was here now, anyway. Reality threatened to take over any moment now and she had never felt more terrified. She had never felt more, period. She looked at Scott and her eyes glistened and her heart did nothing, and she could hardly stand any of it. Without meaning to, she said, "Karen's dead."

[scott-smith-hih]

"You're-" dead. But that's not what she meant. There was a permanence to her words that was never applied to those turned. There was death, and there was being dead. For better or worse, some survived the former, and Karen didn't. His fists clenched with frustration as in that moment Carrie's words felt like a distraction he wasn't allowed to ignore, like they served to steer his attention away from her. Maybe that's what she needed though.

His palm stung as he relaxed, but he focussed on calming his breathing. "Is that why you're here?" He stubbed out his cigarette, rising from his chair with the shards of glass clattering underfoot. He could barely make out her silhouette but for the dim light emanating from his desk. It only just caught the glimmer of the pools in her eyes, and he moved towards them with careful steps.

"We lost communication. I don't know what happened, I-" he could feel his anger shifting, delving into a sudden sorrow as he got closer to her, "we lost. I don't know what happened to Karen." Carrie was so still, and he felt like he was towering over something unfamiliar. Kneeling down in front of her he could recognise her every physical feature, but she was still strange. There wasn't any warmth left, and he'd never imagined she could run out. She was a vampire, and his voice softened to nearly a whisper, "you're not okay."

[grandpafcngs]

Scott's quiet 'sir' hung in the air between them and it revealed more to Jordan than anything he'd seen or heard thus far. He looked at him a moment longer, trying to see him in the new role that he'd been cast in. Jordan's eyes then wandered to the couch against the wall, across from where Scott sat now. Jordan would do anything for Carrie McReid, of course they would. He let out a sigh then, shoulders relaxing and he tried more than ever before to drop his air of 'concerned father figure'. "Unless hell's frozen over, too, I doubt it."

With that, he decided to address the other thing Carrie had told him about. "So, I hear you've got a Vivian Vandeviere problem."

[scott-smith-hih]

Scott knew that the reputation of his couch was already at an unwarranted low from every person that had ogled it with their judging eyes, but the look that Jordan served was the final blow. It had to go. The fortune in money and effort it had taken him to get it here didn't matter. A couch should not need to be under this much scrutiny. Neither did he, actually, come to think of it. Scott prepared to stand up for himself, something he particularly excelled at, when Jordan caught him off guard with the mention of Vivian. His puffed chest dropped with a "yeah," followed by an exasperated "amongst others."

This wasn't the time nor place for trivialising his life or death problems, however. Jordan was one of few that could possibly help, and Scott knew that. "I'm not sure I can hide behind the Institute for this one."

[cmcreid-warriorprincess]

Flashback: November 2016 Part II, Underground

From the moment Carrie's eyes had opened again, she knew that it was over. The blood was on her lips before she knew it, sealing her fate tight, and there was nothing she could do now. Nothing. Everything had happened so fast. She saw flashes of blood, heard screams and pleading. And Ruby. Oh, god... Ruby. What had she done? Carrie's head was pounding, everything was so bright and loud. Had everything always been this loud?

In the aftermath, she couldn't remember what she said or did. She remembered Alex holding her, and her body going still. There was a storm of overwhelming feeling in her chest, and it battled against Alex's whispered sweet nothings. 'It's going to be okay' and she wanted it to be. When he said it, she wanted it more than she'd ever wanted anything. She felt compelled by it, consumed by it. She hadn't known why. When he let her go, she ran.

Carrie hadn't realised where she was going until she was tucked in the darkest corner of his office. Scott wasn't there, yet. No one had seen her run by. Another vampire, a blur in the underground. A vampire. The tears streamed silently down her face as she held herself tighter than ever, pressing her forehead against her knees. When she stopped shaking, she felt herself go deathly still. Inhumanely still. She had no idea how long she stayed like that, or when Scott had entered the still dark room. Quietly, so quietly, she said, "Scott?" @scott-smith-hih

[scott-smith-hih]

When communications dropped and the screens went black Scott stopped thinking of the agents in the field as people. He had to. There wasn't time to contemplate their individual fates in the midst of the chaos that unfolded in the control room. All of them were assets, and he imagined them as the numbers assigned to them in their records. '542, last know position; Montgomery Manor. Vital sings unknown.' It was easier, in the moment, to treat them as assets. He refused to let his brain wander beyond the facts that they had in front of them - no one could confirm what had happened to them yet. Though he could still control his mind, his body ached with the loss of her nonetheless. "Unconfirmed," he'd repeat as if to calm it, but the pain was burrowed in his chest, echoing through to his fingertips as he turned the pages while his mind fought to find something useful.

The hours until they had them back became a blur, but he remembered their return. The operatives of the Institute - the agents, analysts, engineers and doctors, all adapting at once to new orders barked by Carmen, abandoning the control room in a storm of action. He was part of the action too, until someone confirmed something he'd been denying himself as a possibility all night; Carrie McReid had been fatally wounded. At once the illusion of control that he'd nurtured was ripped from him. He froze in that room until the ache that had built in his body finally reached his head, and the stack of papers he'd brought when he'd last seen her hit the wall with great, but unsatisfying force. He wasn't convinced that anything would ever satisfy the fury he was feeling. He didn't go to see them, nor help. Instead, he collected his files, each one helping him dig down his emotions until all that remained was the unshifting rage that he portioned out to everyone involved. Fuck them all. Fuck her, for making him feel anything at all.

His office was dark, and hollow, and quiet, and his. Immediately he dumped the stack on his desk, and again the unsatisfying thud bothered him. The non-existent sound from switching on his desk lamp was infuriating. He lit a cigarette, crashing down into his chair to rummage for a bottle of scotch in the depths of his drawers. In the midst of pouring a glass he heard it - his name, her voice. Familiar but broken. The glass shattered on the floor. This wasn't his mind playing tricks though, he knew better than that. She was here. That was Carrie's voice, quiet, but entirely filling the void. "Fuck," he pushed through pressed lips as this reality, the logic of her being here at all after what he'd learned, did nothing to settle his anger. He remained seated, "fuck, Carrie."

[its-jess-bitches]

"Have you closed the Montgomerys, yet?" Charles appeared at Dina's side as he often did when they were on business, seamlessly handing over her signature Negroni. "I doubt they'll be a hard sell and with you in that dress... We may as well call it a night and head back to your hotel." @scott-smith-hih

[scott-smith-hih]

If his familiar voice hadn't given him away so quickly, the Negroni appearing in her hand certainly would have done the trick. "Charles," she said, a stern look melting into a begrudgingly playful smile as he continued to talk. "If I could get to the husband maybe, but Felicity's mind is definitely not on what I can offer, irrespective of the dress." Dina moved closer to him, sipping her drink as if there was a chance she'd say yes to his rather direct approach. Truthfully, she thrived on being wanted, and being wanted by Charles Harvelle, well, it was a particular thrill. "To my delight there appears to be quite a few people of interest here tonight, but you're not one of them, charmer. We're already in business, remember?"

[miss-molly-v]

"What a gorgeous party! Let me tell you, I know a few folks back in Manhattan who are seething that they aren't invited. I was telling Lee that. You've met Lee, right?" @havensdalestarters

[scott-smith-hih]

Did this man just say Manhattan? Dina's eyes positively sparkled with attention. "Manhattan? How funny, I was just there last week for business. Hi, I'm Dina Smith, and I don't believe we've met. Nor have I meet Lee but I'd just love to pick your brains on the markets there."

[goforfaye]

"Oh, I swear... Andrea Beckett Parker, if I see you even thinking about touching the ice sculptures-," but before Felicity could descend on her beloved baby sister, she was scrambling away. Deep breaths, Felicity. "Oh, hi! How are you? You look wonderful, thank you so much for attending." @havensdalestarters

[scott-smith-hih]

With attendees this eclectic Dina was trying to figure out if the hosts of this party were old money, new money, or simply dumb money. She could settle for dumb. Dumb was easy. Having laid eyes on Felicity Montgomery, however, she feared it didn't matter - this woman seemed to care more about her image than where her money came from. Oh well, it was a start, and Dina made sure to be next in line to catch a passing greeting. "You must be the Felicity Montgomery I've heard so much about." Had she? Not really. "So glad to have the chance to meet you, you know. Your family's charity work," Dina cast her eyes across the room for a fleeting moment before smiling with false admiration, "has been very influential in my circles. I'm Dina Smith, visiting and lucky enough to be here."

[scott-smith-hih]

Havensdale - 1999

Name: Dina Smith Age: 28 years old Species: Human Hometown: Oxford, England FC: Simona Tabasco

No one expected to meet Dina Smith tonight, but the pleasure is all yours, rest assured. Her and her husband's careers have recently taken them to the US, and she's in town to visit her sister-in-law, Laura Hunter, to convince her to buy a one-way ticket back home to England.

Her only son and momentary career set-back, Scott, is back home in Oxford with the best nanny money can buy, and Dina is of the opinion that Laura needs to return to the prosperity of finance with her little girl, Faith, before the white picket fences trap her here forever. Just think of the money children.

It quickly became apparent, however, that there could be some investment opportunities within the ranks of the Montgomery family, and she's secured herself an invitation to tonight's party. Perhaps there are some connections worth making here after all.

Connections Scott Smith: Son, age 3 or 4. Who can keep track? Laura Hunter: Sister-in-law and charity case. All Montgomery's: Watch your wallets.

[kxllercarmen]

Carmen knew the second that Scott had been discharged from med bay. He could have done with a little longer, but she wasn't going to scold him for being stubborn. Carmen had no doubt that Scott would bounce back from this. She would be diving out of the shadows at him again before they both knew it. She would be able to look at him without seeing blood dripping from his chin. Soon.

"Buckle up, Smith. Once word gets out that your happy face is back in action, you'll be beating 'em off with a stick. I've brought you sustenance," Carmen grinned sharply, holding up a stack of folders. "Alotta updates to make to the database, I'm afraid. Did you see our new friend in the basement?"

[scott-smith-hih]

"I feared as much." Scott sulked at the confirmation of his looming misery. He eyed the stack wondering what the fuck the other members of their so-called 'team' had been doing the entire time he'd been gone, or if Carmen had purposely held these back for him. She could be sweet sometimes, after all, though she was unlikely to admit it, and he was unlikely to acknowledge it. "We can discount 80% of that if Robbie Wilson's reports are in there." He sat back in his chair, a humoured smile creeping up on him at the mention of their newest addition, "I did. I've concluded that he's an arse but I didn't really need to meet him to make that judgement. It's in the name."

[notprofessorx-avier]

"Sorry, man. I've got hands full and overestimated how gently I bumped the door. The boys were in charge of the gift so you'll have to forgive them," Xavier greeted, bustling into the room, arms full of tea and an oversized 'welcome back' card. He knew Scott'd hate it, even if it was nice to be recognised as an integral part of the team.

Xavier deposited the gifts onto Scott's desk, flashing an ever-charming grin. "I do have a work related request, though. Can you run some photos through the system? I've emailed them over to you."

[scott-smith-hih]

"I wouldn't ever dream of forgiving them," Scott said as a matter of fact before simply glaring at the stupidly outrageous card taking up prime real-estate on a desk he'd only had back for a mere 20 minutes. Was nothing sacred anymore? The tea could stay, he supposed, but he wasn't going to let Xavier know that he didn't mind the gift itself.

Suspicion became him as Xavier claimed to have work related motives - this wouldn't be the first time Scott had been lured by the false pretence of actual meaningful work turning out to be an attempt to foster a fruitless acquaintanceship. "Fine," he relented, reluctantly navigating to his emails and waiting for further instructions before daring to open the attachments.

[grandpafcngs]

Jordan had been piecing together what he'd missed in his time away from the underground. He might not have had all the details, but he knew enough to find an excuse to stop by Scott Smith's office. He'd been with the Resistance by ways of the Institute (2.0) from the beginning. They hadn't exactly spent a lot of quality time together, but Jordan knew that Carrie had always had a certain soft spot for him. And now... Well, it wasn't quite clear what was going on now.

"Emergency? I hope not. A wrong turn, maybe. Now that I'm here, though... have you got any idea what the meeting Ana's called is about?" he asked, pausing before adding a- "Scott."

[scott-smith-hih]

For the longest time in perhaps Scott and Jordan's combined lives, Scott kept so incredibly still one would think he was auditioning for a role in the upcoming film A Quiet Place. Sadly though, that was being filmed outside the dome, and the world would never know how well Scott would have performed in that role.

Scott was suddenly faced with a somewhat bitter regret; he'd never paid attention in class when they explained Jordan's bond with the McReids, nor the Andrews, nor Edward - but there was something in the way Jordan spoke his name that made him think he should be calling them 'sir', and it gave him goose-bumps. Jordan was important to the Institute, sure, but the fact that he was important to Carrie struck a never before felt fear through him. He hid a shiver behind a shrug which finally engaged his brain, "maybe Charlie's found a moral compass amongst the rubble." He paused before adding a quiet, "sir."