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[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

And the world keeps on turning...
Thursday afternoon

Doug sat quietly in the Medlab, laptop open before him. Unthinkingly, he reached across his body for the glass of water on the table beside him, and hissed in pain as his taped ribs stretched. Leaning back, he concentrated on breathing slowly until the pain passed.

"Really short shallow breaths are the best thing for when you have broken ribs. Or cracked ribs," Alison called out, leaning in the doorway. Walking towards him she smiles in sympathy, and picked up the glass, handing it to him. "Been there. Surprising how many bones you can break in one shot, when blading."

Doug nodded slowly and closed his laptop, setting it to the side, careful not to stretch his ribs.

"Hi, Ms. Blaire. How's it going?"

"Same old, same old," she smiled in sympathy at him, not quite ready to announce her new team status to all just yet. "Sides, I should be the one asking you that question, no?"

Doug tried to stifle a snicker, knowing how much it would hurt. "I guess, although I imagine it's pretty easy to figure out how I'm doing. At least I'm conscious, now. I think Dr. McCoy was a little worried about it taking me a couple days to wake up."

"Mmm, that's Hank for you. The proverbial tender heart of gold," Alison chuckled faintly, turning to sneak a look at the scientist, currently hovering over a monitor and giving it a most fearsome glare of disapproval. "He'll have you up and walking in no time, I'm sure."

"Oh, I'm sure," replied Doug. "But why do I get the impression you didn't just come in here to ask about my physical state?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Alison sat down on the side of the bed, lips quirking into a small smile. "Because you can read body language better than most?" she raised an eyebrow at him teasingly.

Doug blushed slightly. "Okay, okay, I cheat a little. But that doesn't mean I can't tell that you've been worrying about me."

"Of course I have," she shrugged. "Discrimination is never easy to deal with, never mind when it descends into violence." She sighed, shaking her head slightly. "How are you dealing with that?"

Doug leaned back and sighed. "Not well. I mean, I continue to believe that fear of mutants stems from a lack of education. I also believe that violence is not the answer. Just look at the Middle East. Reprisal begets reprisal. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth just leaves the world blind and toothless. And yet...it hurts. On a variety of levels."

"The need to be accepted by others, the desire to 'fit in', wishing you didn't have the secret fear that each time you go out, it might happen again..."

"Guilt, mostly. That except for a deep genetic scan, I can pass for human. Not everyone here has that luxury." Doug closed his eyes and sighed.

"No, not everyone does, hon. And some people are still discriminated and beaten up every day, for things as simple as being of another skin type, another country, another religion, or just socially inept enough to have said the wrong thing at the wrong time." Alison tilted her head to the side. "And all of the above could be applied to you or me - just as much as the genetic difference we have with others."

Doug shook his head. "It's such a waste."

"That it is, hon." Alison shifted her weight on the bed slightly, turning to look at the wall. "It doesn't matter what people chose - if they want to, they can always find something to point at." She turned to look at him again.

Doug smiled wryly. "Yeah, I guess you'd know a little something about that, wouldn't you."

Alison chuckled. "That too. Just a bit." She held up a hand, thumb and index held minutely apart. "I'm glad you're getting what I mean though. It's a fairly important distinction to make..."

Doug continued smiling, this time a bit more genuinely. "Prejudice is stupid. Period. But if there's one thing I've learned in sixteen years, it's to never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups."

An appreciative chuckle greeted that remark, and Alison winked at him. "But letting them think you do can always lead to interesting results, mmm?"

Doug glanced downward at his taped ribs. "Like those, you mean?"

Reaching out to turn his chin upwards, Alison gave him a serious look. "Doug... what do you think those kids achieved, after beating you up like that? What are they thinking right now, on a wild guess?"

Doug stared blankly at a wall. "Probably something along the lines of 'we really showed that dirty mutie-lover. Too bad we only put him in the hospital instead of the morgue.'"

"Mmm." She nodded slowly, waiting a few moments. "And what will you do, when you get out of here, hon? How will you allow this experience to change you?"

Doug stared down at his hands, wringing them. "I don't know. I'm of a couple different minds about it. Part of me wants training to make sure it never happens again. I want to be able to hit back. But the other part of me knows that reprisals solve nothing."

A quiet nod. "And what do you think your other options might be?"

Doug shook his head. "I'm not really sure. I mean, education is probably the key, but how do you fix willful ignorance? How do you change the minds of people who don't want to know any better?"

"Slavery was abolished somehow, Doug. And to use that example, it happened because some people decided to do just that - find a way to change the minds of even those who weren't inclined to change their minds. I think Marie-Ange's idea is a good one. And it complements what the X-men are doing, only in the long term." She patted his arm, lightly. "Think about it. I'm sure you can come up with a few things."

Doug nodded, then bit his lip and looked away quickly. "Um. Ms. Blaire?" he asked hesitantly.

"Mmm?" she smiled calmly, waiting for his question.

Doug looked over, seeing Dr. McCoy quietly harrumphing, looking ready to ask Alison to let Doug get some rest. "Do you think you could...come back later? ...and we could talk about some other stuff?"

"Of course, I can," she chuckled, turning to make a finger poking motion at Hank, which drew a worried look from him, and an arm protectively curling about his ribs. "I've got the Hankster's weak point, eh?"

Doug nodded, relieved. "It's just...I could really use someone to talk to. I've got all this stuff jumbled up inside that could use some sorting out."

"I'll be back after you get some rest, or tomorrow," if we don't leave on the mission, damn. "Sounds good?"

Doug smiled, the most real smile of the conversation. "Sounds really good. Thanks, Ms. Blaire."