xp_logs | Jay & Hank, last Thursday (5/5)

Set last Thursday. Jay goes to the infirmary for a checkup with Doctor McCoy. Jay, in true Guthrie fashion, remains obstinate despite Hank's efforts to offer him support. He seems to be encountering a lot of students like that lately, actually.

The stabbing pain in Jay's chest had settled to a dull throb. It didn't hurt to breathe or move anymore, which was a big improvement over the past week. His back still ached, though, and moving his wings wasn't an option. He'd at least finally begun molting so new red feathers were growing in, but it was obvious just from observation that he'd plummet to the ground if he even tried to fly.

Jay sat on the observation table in the medlab, his shirt draped over a chair, waiting for one of the doctors to come check up on him. Hopefully they would just remove the bandages around his chest, briefly check his wings, and let him go. An extended stay in the infirmary was not something he'd enjoy.

Hank ambled into the room, giving Jay an encouraging smile. "Well, the X-rays confirm that your ribs are in more or less one piece again," he said cheerfully. "I would recommend being careful with them for a while, but the strapping can come off. He suited the action to the word, removing the bandages with gentle fingers. "And then I'll take a look at those wings of yours. I see that the new feathers are starting to come through."

Jay raised his arms up so Doctor McCoy could reach around him. "Yeah," he said. Although it sounded more like a grunt than anything. He wasn't particularly comfortable around McCoy, given that the last time they'd spoken wasn't a very good conversation. But he was a better alternative than Dr. Grey. While Jay liked her, he didn't need anyone poking around his head.

Hank unwrapped the bandages, then moved around behind him to inspect the still fragile wings. "They're definitely getting better," he said, examining the emerging feathers. Fortunately, only a couple of the follicles had suffered any serious damage, and the feathers were regrowing properly. "The things that happen when we let our guard down," he said softly, with a little sigh. "Still. At least your mind is still intact." He shuddered the tiniest bit. The memory of feeling his intellect slowly draining away was still a regular feature in his nightmares.

If looks could kill, McCoy would have been dead ten times before he hit the floor. "What?" he said, his voice twinged with disgust. Was McCoy saying that it was Jay's fault? "What the f . . ." Jay bit his lip to stop himself from swearing. "What're ya sayin'? What does any of that matter?"

Hank blinked. "I was referring to my own recent encounter with the dangers of the outside world," he said mildly. "Little Miss Cooties, I believe you would remember her as. Who nearly cost me my mind and my life, in that order. Of course, your case is presumably quite different..." Well, at least insofar as it hadn't involved a woman. Hank had formed some theories about what exactly had happened. "They do, however, have in common the fact that when one is happy and at ease, one's guard tends to go down somewhat. There are those unscrupulous enough to take advantage of the fact."

"Don't'cha dare ta presume ya know what happened," Jay warned, glaring at McCoy. The utter gall of this man, thinking he knew what went on. And for that matter, making it his business at all when Jay had clearly made the point that it wasn't anyone's problem but his. And what was even worse was that McCoy wasn't far off the mark. Jay shifted uncomfortably in his seat, arms crossed over his chest defiantly, overtly glancing at the door. "What went on 'tween me and . . ." Tommy, he almost said, "mah attacker, 't'ain't for you ta talk on."

Hank rested his hands on the exam table, meeting Jay's eyes. "I have no idea what happened, aside from the details of your injuries," he said quietly. "And I will not ask. That is your business, and I won't pry if you don't wish it. I simply wanted to, if I could, let you know that you aren't the only one who has been caught unawares and.... hurt. By whatever means. That it isn't just you. Because I know, from experience, that feeling that something only happened because of who or what you are makes the entire thing significantly worse." He shrugged a little. "I'll drop the subject, if you wish, but having been through something which may or may not be similar, I thought I'd at least mention it."

"Ya don't know nuthin'," Jay growled at McCoy, looking straight back into his eyes. "Ya think that you have experience with this?" He snorted derisively at that thought. "Please. This is hardly the first time Ah've come across a hate crime. Probably won't be the last, neither. And it don't matter iffn Ah am or ain't the only one who's been assaulted. Why would that change anythin'?"

Hank raised an eyebrow. "Jay, I grew up the only known mutant in a very small town, having had obvious physical mutations from birth," he said quietly. "I was also far more interested in poetry and in physics than I was in football or hunting, which led to certain obvious inferences being made more than once. Please do not presume to know what I have and have not had experience with." He shook his head. "As for whether or not it matters that you're not the only one... well, perhaps, to you, it doesn't. To me, it helped to know that. To know that it wasn't me, that it wasn't my fault. It's... something that happens. It shouldn't, but it does."

"What is it with folk always tryin' ta tell me that it ain't mah fault?" Jay asked, partly rhetorically but also partly curiously. "You and Terry and X and Forge . . ." Jay's mind wandered briefly to his friend. He'd just left for the hospital earlier that day, and Jay was doing a good job and not freaking out about that. It's not everyday your suitemate and good pal has his arm amputated and replaced with a chunk of metal and wires. "It's always the victim's fault, at least partly," he said, coming back to reality and pushing concern for Forge away for now. "Iffn they hadn't be there, they wouldna gotten victimized. Not that it excuses the criminal, but still."

"Simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time is not a culpable offense. Being born in a small town, for example, or on the wrong side of a large one." Hank moved around to examine the wings again. "Or walking down the wrong street while possessed of a physical mutation. That may be a mistake, but it hardly places the victim at fault. Sometimes there is an element of blame... I, for example, showed very poor judgement not long ago, and it came back to bite me in the ass. Almost fatally. But it still wasn't my fault that she chose to target me. That was entirely hers."

"Ah ain't sayin' Ah should be punished for nuthin'," Jay clarified, wincing as McCoy touched a particularly sensitive spot on his wings. "Alls Ah'm sayin' is that poor judgment can't be ignored. Ah hear what people're sayin' about me. How it's such a shame Ah got beaten to a pulp, how the fella who did it should be beaten too, that they don't understand how Ah was almost killed but ain't angry. All that shit. They don't get it. And God forbid that they ever should get it."

Hank nodded. "It's not how most of us would react," he agreed, smoothing down ruffled feathers very gently. It was bad for them to get disordered, and he guided them carefully back into place until they lay smooth again. "It certainly isn't how I would react. But that doesn't mean that your reaction isn't just as valid or as 'right' as mine would be. I may not entirely understand, especially given how little I know of what actually happened, but I don't really have to... it's your crisis, and your emotionalreaction to it, not mine, and I'll respect it."

"Ah just don't like people comparin' their experiences ta mine. Nuthin's the same, so when people say stuff 'bout what Ah went through . . . It ain't fair, that's what. Not ta me, not ta them. It's belittlin' ta everyone." Jay shook his head, then looked over his shoulder at McCoy. "We done here?"

Hank shook his head ruefully. He was still so very, very young, after all. The young always believed their suffering utterly unique to themselves. "We're done. Try to keep your feathers from getting too ruffled... it's bad for them. If you can, have someone smooth down the ones you can't reach. I'm sure Catseye would understand the difficulty of grooming the fiddly bits while injured." He smiled a little. "And... no man is an island, Jay."

"Donne was wrong. If we were not islands," Jay recited, his accent thinning as he hopped off the table to get his shirt, "we would be lost, drowned in each other's tragedies. We are insulated from the tragedies of others, by our island nature, and by the repetitive shape and form of the stories." At McCoy's questioning look, Jay shrugged. "Neil Gaiman."

Hank nodded. "Perhaps," he said quietly. "I, myself, would be very unhappy to be so cut off from others, to be alone with my joys and sorrows in an isolation self-imposed through the fear of becoming overwhelmed. I have always believed that in companionship we find our greatest strengths."

"Unfortunately, that ain't mah experience," Jay muttered sadly. He thought of all the people who loved him who left him. It was thankfully a small list, but those on it had been the most important people in his life at some point. And while he wasn't so self-absorbed or so pessimistic as to believe that the people whom he cared for greatly now and who reciprocated, like Forge, would abandon him, that didn't make Kevin's or Paige's or Sam's leaving any easier.

"It will be, I hope. In time." Hank tucked one more feather back into position and stepped away. "You have plenty of time. And some good friends here, I think."

"We'll see," Jay replied non-committaly as he left the infirmary. Now he was in a foul mood, and he really didn't want to be. As Jay headed back upstairs, he decided he'd visit Terry to see what she was up to. Maybe watching a Matt Damon movie with her would make him feel better.