Mitigation

Batman

Scott stood by the entrance, Stiles by his side.

They hadn't been here for years, hadn't even been allowed to come visit after the funeral, wouldn't. The house felt uncomfortable to look at again, all the amenities still in the same place. Scott didn't want to go in, but after the brunette ahead of them told them to come in, he had no choice without revealing any reason. He walked in and felt a wave of fear and loss wash over him as he looked around at the furniture, a place he once called his second home.

He felt a strange feeling of kenopsia, feeling that there should at least be someone other than them here. Maybe Elana's mother, who would always have cookies ready for them even when she was battling cancer. Or maybe Elana's father, who would teach all the kids that visited this sacred meeting spot fighting and chess and read them books and do magic tricks for them.

He didn't want to stay here for long, especially with the increasing numbing feeling in his heart. So when Stiles's phone rang, he followed him outside as Elana went up ahead. He knew she would be okay, it was her house once after all, even if, by the looks of it, she had amnesia and didn't remember anything.

He hoped she would remember them soon. He remembered her through others, Stiles and Scott, and when Theo was here, always exchanging memories and trade secrets about her and how the parents would always add on, about how her toothy smile was practically plastered on her face. She used to call him Biscotti and used to play superheroes with them two.

Sometimes weird memories wouldn't resurface, that seemed so impossible it was deemed as a mere dream. One time, Scott could've sworn that the brunette flew.

But little nine year olds didn't fly so it was impossible.

It was not hard to understand that, when her and father disappeared and her mother was found dead on the floor with no explainable reason, it was a blow to everyone's hearts. The funeral held at the Abernathy house, as some called it, was packed with many strangers, friends that the family had picked up from wondrous, peculiar, places. Some wore robes, while others wore leather jackets. People exchanged memories of the family, about each of the lost three, and with a heavy heart, people tried to move on.

Lydia didn't. She hadn't come to the funeral. She didn't want to let go. Scott knew now how the house had been so immaculately clean. She was keeping it clean just in case they came back. Just in case her cousin returned.

Scott felt an ominous feeling in his belly and walked into the house, leaving Stiles talking to his dad. He walked up the familiar stairs, and down the hall, to a room he hadn't been in for almost seven years.

"Elana?"

He entered the room, taking in the old nostalgic furniture and looked at the brunette. She was gazing intensely at the board full of pictures. Scott felt a blow to his heart. He remembered wanting to take one, just to remember her but felt too bad to ruin her display. She wouldn't want it to be empty when she came back.

Scott gazed intensely at the brunette, wondering how she would react. Would she even realize?

"Scott?" She asked, her usually cheerful voice, rough and hoarse. She cleared her throat, "Scott, wha-? How-?"

"Elana..."

"That's me," she said. "That's where I got this idea from, that's where I got these pictures from, I don't understand, I've never lived here."

She reached out to touch one and Scott immediately felt danger, "Wait, don't-!"

She touched it and it felt as if time slowed down. Scott watched in horror as Elana suddenly fell to the floor.