Sowing the Seeds Part 2- Scott
Title: Sowing the Seeds
Fandom: Power Rangers RPM
Summary: Seemingly every day events can change the course of a person's life. Five very different people were set on the path to become Power Rangers back when they were children, long before they ever knew their own destinies. These are their stories.
Rating: K/G/general audience
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Not mine. All that jazz.
Scott stomped into his room. He slammed the door behind him, but it hit a buffer of air and didn’t make the loud bang he was hoping for. He opened it back up and pushed against it with all his might. That was more satisfying. But he was still angry.
He wanted to hit something. He was being all torn up inside and he needed to let it out. He needed to break something like he was breaking. He started by throwing his books off his bookshelf, but he still felt angry. He dumped the cars out of his car box and that might a nice clatter, but he was still raging inside. So he ripped open the seams of his pillow. He threw the soft fluff into the air, but even that didn’t help. It floated down around him, but he didn’t feel any better.
He could scream he was so mad! He was feeling so out of control, just lost and wild. He was so furious and he couldn’t rein it in, couldn’t get control. He had to do something to get all the anger out. Then he spied his trophies. That would get him. That would do it. So Scott climbed precariously on top of his dresser and pushed all those trophies right off that shelf. They clattered to the floor, some breaking against the wall on the way down.
His door opened and he turned, ready to scream at whoever was bothering him. It was just Marcus though. He sat down heavy on top of his dresser. He panted, lips pursed, still feeling the wild anger careening inside of him.
“Have a fight with Dad again?” Marcus asked, quietly closing the door behind him. Scott couldn’t speak. His voice would waver and he didn’t dare let it. Big boys didn’t show weakness, isn’t that what their father always said? He nodded sullenly and Marcus walked over to him, stepping carefully over the pieces of broken plastic from his trophies. He wrapped his arms around Scott’s small frame and hauled him off the dresser. With an arm around his shoulder, Marcus led him over to the bed. Scott climbed up and backed into the corner, curling into a ball. Marcus sat beside him, arm wrapped around his shoulders, giving him strength. It was comforting.
“He doesn’t mean it, y’know, and neither do you. You’re both just too stubborn to say so.” Scott knew Marcus was right, but it didn’t make him feel any better.
“He hates me,” he whined. Marcus gripped his shoulder. He was so much bigger, solid and thick like their father. Scott was like their mother, slim and lanky. It felt good to be wrapped up in Marcus’s warmth though.
“Dad doesn’t hate you. He loves you so much. He’s just not good with that stuff.”
“I’m not good enough.” He really was whining now, and he knew he shouldn’t. He was seven; he should have outgrown that by now. But he couldn’t help it. He was mad and he was sad and he wanted to cry or hit something and he couldn’t figure it all out. He didn’t know how he could feel all that all at once and the confusion just made it worse. He felt like one big ball of mess and he couldn’t straighten it all out.
“You are more than good enough, little bro. He’s just trying to make you into the best man you can be, in the only way he knows how.” Marcus started rubbing his back and that helped him feel a little calmer.
“I don’t like his way. Couldn’t you teach me how to be a man?” he asked hopefully. Marcus laughed.
“I’m not a man yet, Scotty. I’m only eleven. I don’t even know what kind of man I’ll be.” Scott slid right next to his brother, cradled in the hollow of his arm.
“I do. You’ll be a great man. You’re nice and you’re fair and you make sure everybody is okay. You don’t yell. Not like Dad.”
“Dad’s a great man, too. You’ll see it one day.” Marcus seemed so sure and Scott really wanted to believe him, but he was still kind of mad at his father. It was just a stupid argument but nobody could get him quite so worked up as his dad could.
“I wish Mom were still here,” he whispered. His tears of anger had turned to just sadness now and he buried his face against his brother. Marcus was warm and strong and he would help.
“Me too, kid.” Marcus sounded sad too.
“Can we talk to her?” Scott asked. He knew she couldn’t talk back, but sometimes it helped.
“Sure we can. She’ll hear us, wherever she is. I’ll walk you down to the cemetery after dinner, okay?” Scott hugged his brother tightly. Marcus always knew the right thing to say and just what to do. Marcus always knew just how to bring them back together again.
They sat like that for a few minutes, just calming down and being together. Scott finally let go and slid to the edge of his bed. He stood up and looked around. He’d made a really big mess and now he’d have to clean it all up. He sighed.
“C’mon, Little Man. I’ll help and we’ll get it done in no time.” Scott smiled and nodded.
Marcus always knew how to make him feel better. He would give up his own free time to help out his brother, was always there when Scott needed him. Marcus was going to be a great man, a great leader, when he grew up. Scott wanted to be just like him.
Fandom: Power Rangers RPM
Summary: Seemingly every day events can change the course of a person's life. Five very different people were set on the path to become Power Rangers back when they were children, long before they ever knew their own destinies. These are their stories.
Rating: K/G/general audience
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Not mine. All that jazz.
Scott stomped into his room. He slammed the door behind him, but it hit a buffer of air and didn’t make the loud bang he was hoping for. He opened it back up and pushed against it with all his might. That was more satisfying. But he was still angry.
He wanted to hit something. He was being all torn up inside and he needed to let it out. He needed to break something like he was breaking. He started by throwing his books off his bookshelf, but he still felt angry. He dumped the cars out of his car box and that might a nice clatter, but he was still raging inside. So he ripped open the seams of his pillow. He threw the soft fluff into the air, but even that didn’t help. It floated down around him, but he didn’t feel any better.
He could scream he was so mad! He was feeling so out of control, just lost and wild. He was so furious and he couldn’t rein it in, couldn’t get control. He had to do something to get all the anger out. Then he spied his trophies. That would get him. That would do it. So Scott climbed precariously on top of his dresser and pushed all those trophies right off that shelf. They clattered to the floor, some breaking against the wall on the way down.
His door opened and he turned, ready to scream at whoever was bothering him. It was just Marcus though. He sat down heavy on top of his dresser. He panted, lips pursed, still feeling the wild anger careening inside of him.
“Have a fight with Dad again?” Marcus asked, quietly closing the door behind him. Scott couldn’t speak. His voice would waver and he didn’t dare let it. Big boys didn’t show weakness, isn’t that what their father always said? He nodded sullenly and Marcus walked over to him, stepping carefully over the pieces of broken plastic from his trophies. He wrapped his arms around Scott’s small frame and hauled him off the dresser. With an arm around his shoulder, Marcus led him over to the bed. Scott climbed up and backed into the corner, curling into a ball. Marcus sat beside him, arm wrapped around his shoulders, giving him strength. It was comforting.
“He doesn’t mean it, y’know, and neither do you. You’re both just too stubborn to say so.” Scott knew Marcus was right, but it didn’t make him feel any better.
“He hates me,” he whined. Marcus gripped his shoulder. He was so much bigger, solid and thick like their father. Scott was like their mother, slim and lanky. It felt good to be wrapped up in Marcus’s warmth though.
“Dad doesn’t hate you. He loves you so much. He’s just not good with that stuff.”
“I’m not good enough.” He really was whining now, and he knew he shouldn’t. He was seven; he should have outgrown that by now. But he couldn’t help it. He was mad and he was sad and he wanted to cry or hit something and he couldn’t figure it all out. He didn’t know how he could feel all that all at once and the confusion just made it worse. He felt like one big ball of mess and he couldn’t straighten it all out.
“You are more than good enough, little bro. He’s just trying to make you into the best man you can be, in the only way he knows how.” Marcus started rubbing his back and that helped him feel a little calmer.
“I don’t like his way. Couldn’t you teach me how to be a man?” he asked hopefully. Marcus laughed.
“I’m not a man yet, Scotty. I’m only eleven. I don’t even know what kind of man I’ll be.” Scott slid right next to his brother, cradled in the hollow of his arm.
“I do. You’ll be a great man. You’re nice and you’re fair and you make sure everybody is okay. You don’t yell. Not like Dad.”
“Dad’s a great man, too. You’ll see it one day.” Marcus seemed so sure and Scott really wanted to believe him, but he was still kind of mad at his father. It was just a stupid argument but nobody could get him quite so worked up as his dad could.
“I wish Mom were still here,” he whispered. His tears of anger had turned to just sadness now and he buried his face against his brother. Marcus was warm and strong and he would help.
“Me too, kid.” Marcus sounded sad too.
“Can we talk to her?” Scott asked. He knew she couldn’t talk back, but sometimes it helped.
“Sure we can. She’ll hear us, wherever she is. I’ll walk you down to the cemetery after dinner, okay?” Scott hugged his brother tightly. Marcus always knew the right thing to say and just what to do. Marcus always knew just how to bring them back together again.
They sat like that for a few minutes, just calming down and being together. Scott finally let go and slid to the edge of his bed. He stood up and looked around. He’d made a really big mess and now he’d have to clean it all up. He sighed.
“C’mon, Little Man. I’ll help and we’ll get it done in no time.” Scott smiled and nodded.
Marcus always knew how to make him feel better. He would give up his own free time to help out his brother, was always there when Scott needed him. Marcus was going to be a great man, a great leader, when he grew up. Scott wanted to be just like him.