LOG: [Terry, Haller] Music room

[x-legion.livejournal.com]

Somehow, the kids have managed to hold off an entire month before almost breaking the new counselor. And then Haller decides to talk to Terry. Whoops.



Terry sat in front of her harp, picking out a soft melancholy tune that suited her mood. It was, quite predictably, Irish but though she'd known the words since before she could walk, she didn't sing, preferring to focus on the music. Her eyes were half lidded and she never noticed when the music room door nudged open.

Jim paused in the threshold, waiting for her to finish the ballad before entering. "That was beautiful," he smiled as her hand drew away from the strings. "I didn't know you played the harp."

Terry sat back and flexed her hands, stretching out her fingers. She smiled at him, undisturbed by her audience. "You weren't around much to hear before. I've played since I was just a wee lass." Her voice lilted softly. "My uncle Tom wanted me to play. Are you looking for something, Mr. Haller?"

"Just being nosey," Jim said amiably. "And call me David, please. The 'mister' only encourages the disassociation." He glanced around the empty room idly, then took a seat in a chair near the front of the room. "I heard you did some babysitting for the most terrifying child in the northern hemisphere. Moira was ecstatic."

"David then. Aye, I sat for Rachel." Terry's expression was at once pleased and upset, remembering the mess the night had been. "She's a beautiful girl but the way she has everyone wrapped about her hands is a bit scary."

Jim snorted. "More than a bit. She's going to be a menace when she gets old enough to start making demands, never mind once she starts dating. Do you know she threw a squirrel when I was trying to talk to Nathan? This can't be headed anywhere good."

Terry looked disturbed, "Really? What did Nathan do?" Abusing small animals was a very bad step considering how powerful she was.

"Scolded her for being evil. She giggled. Maniacally." Jim sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Maybe it's not as bad as it looked. At least she didn't throw anything else when I was around. And the squirrel was unharmed."

She did not look reassured. "I'm sure Nathan has it under control," she said nevertheless. "Other than fussing a bit and her escape attempt she was very good while I watched her." Provided Bobby wasn't in the room, that is.

"There seems to be a healthy respect there, yes," Jim replied with a half-smile. "And of course, Moira isn't prone to excusing unacceptable behavior just because the culprit bats a pair of big grey eyes. I wouldn't be too worried about the escape attempts. They seem fairly indiscriminant."

"I think she likes redheads best. She kept grabbing my hair." Terry laughed and tilted her head to look at Haller. "This is incredibly rude but can I ask what's wrong with your accent? It's a little bit distracting the way it changes around. Most people slip consistently on the same sounds, you don't."

Jim blinked, then narrowly avoided making a face. This made two people who'd noticed an accent he hadn't even been aware he had. It shouldn't even have been a surprise after their first encounter; he'd known Terry was sharp from the questions she'd asked. "No, it's okay," Jim said, with a shake of his head. It was probably better he didn't think too deeply about this while he explained it. "It's -- the MPD, basically. The different personalities have different speech patterns. I guess when one gets integrated their habits get sort of . . . spread out. I assume, anyway," he added. "I honestly never noticed. It's been a long time."

Terry tilted her head the other way and shrugged, "I don't think most people will notice. It's just a little strange." She grinned, "I listen for accents is all since I had to learn to mimic American. Became a habit."

Jim returned the smile. "You do it well, too. Most of the time I don't even notice it." He was perversely relieved by Terry's straightforwardness. There was an odd sort of security in being allowed to offer his own explanation, and the rumor-mill was active enough. In this case, being a bit preemptive probably wouldn't hurt. "By the way, speaking of the MPD -- I've started switching out again." She would have found out sooner or later, anyway. Her hearing was incredibly acute, and if she could pick out the variations within Jim's own voice she would certainly register Davey's.

"Thanks, it's not a perfect mimic but I've no wish to ignore where I came from. Just to be understood." She gave him a long look. "And what does that mean exactly?" He didn't appear to be worried by that so she was assuming it wasn't a bad thing.

Jim grinned. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Terry. It's not as if you're Moira." And he was a dead man if that ever got back to her, but the joke had been too much to resist. "But anyway, the switching out -- sorry, I forget not everyone's had to live with it. That's just my term for when I have a dissociative episode." He spread his hands. "I'm fairly recovered, but it does still happen. Not in the middle of conversations or around other people -- well," he correct himself "most other people, but I mention it because you might hear it, or interrupt me in the middle of one."

"If you do any yelling, aye, I'll likely hear it. Are there many other...well, they're personalities, right? But not like Nathan where they were really other people. From the future." The Askani had always mildly fascinated Terry.

It really does worry me that anything I do Nathan has done better. And crazier. "The alternate personalities were all aspects of my own mind," Jim said, with perfect truth. "There used to be . . . I don't know how many, actually. Some were more distinct than others, and they ran together and split apart a lot in the early days. Now there's just one. He's ten, and fortunately not very loud."

"Ten? Is he...um. Can I ask you questions about this? Do you mind, I mean?" Okay, so it was a little late to ask if she could pry but at least she'd remembered to ask. Sure begging pardon was easier but it left lingering bad feelings too often. "Because we can talk about something else."

Jim had to smile at her concern. "I wouldn't have brought it up if I did," he assured her. "I've been talking about it for years, even done a few panels. It's pretty natural to have questions." He was less comfortable when people witnessed it, but he'd learned that explanation beforehand could save everyone involved a lot of awkwardness.

"I just didn't want to be rude. Ruder," she corrected herself, since she'd started off this line of questioning rudely. "So...what's his name? Is he you when you were a lad?"

Jim shook his head. "No, not quite. Davey's . . . hm. Let me backtrack. The reason I became dissociative in the first place is because of the trauma. It was a survival mechanism. I couldn't cope with what I'd been through, so my mind responded by splitting itself into pieces. Each fragment -- specialized, I guess. It was so no one part of me would have to take it all."

Terry bit her lower lip thoughtfully, processing that. After a moment, she nodded slowly, waiting for him to go on.

"Okay." He'd dropped into lecture mode, but it was almost instinctive at this point. Jim raised one hand, fingers spread. "Let's say each finger is a personality-type that resulted from the trauma. Which is good, because it limits the scope of the metaphor. So. This finger is anger, this is fear, this is acceptance, this is denial, and this is indifference. Five different responses to one event, but all extensions of a single hand." He glanced down, then back up again. "I guess you could call the palm the core personality. That's David. Davey" he closed all fingers into a fist but one, "is the part of David at age ten that was incapable of coping, but never had to because the rest of the pieces carried the weight. As far as Davey's concerned, the trauma doesn't have anything to do with him at all."

"So it's not that he's you so much as you're him?" Terry flexed her own hand unconsciously, looking at his fist then up to his face. Her expression was mostly just curious. "Are you acceptance?"

Jim's mouth quirked. "You could say that. I'm the part of D-- of me that worked through the trauma. It's complicated." He moved his hand to rub the back of his head. "My personality schismed, but I never went away. The other personalities informed how I reacted to things, mostly because they would actually come out when a situation triggered a certain response, but I was always me. I was just us, too."

"But you aren't David," Terry said, quite certain of that.

Years of working with Charles and patients of his own prevented Jim from actually freezing, but he couldn't stop the muscle that twitched in his jaw. A surge of panic how did she did she hear before his rational side kicked in: Don't jump to conclusions. It doesn't matter anyway. Jim eased his jaw loose again and smiled faintly. "Not . . . quite. The integration was -- complicated. Things didn't get put together the same way they started. And Davey's still separate. I'm better, but I'm not the same person I was." He gave her a helpless smile. "So yeah, you're sort of right. I'm not David. But he's still me."

"You don't think of yourself as him," Terry said again, noticing the tension but unable to figure out what caused it. "You said David like he was someone else." She frowned, "So who are you?"

A mistake. Stopping to think about this had definitely been a mistake. Jim tried to ignore the vicious headache that was starting and focus. "I've been trying to figure that one out for years," he muttered, with absolute honesty. "But it's true. Sometimes I still don't think of myself as myself. I don't know if I ever will." In spite of the pain, Jim attempted a smile. "It's a process. But whoever I am, I do know that I am me. After a while, that started meaning a lot."

It wasn't much more than a grimace, really. Terry's frown turned to a guilty wince, "I'm sorry, I should stop bothering you. Are you okay?"

He pointedly ignored the sarcastic laughter in the back of his mind. "I'll survive," Jim said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's always the hard questions that get me. Like 'who are you?'." He laughed ruefully, though it wasn't directed at Terry. "Don't worry about it. It's good for me to have to think about it every once in a while. If you don't acknowledge, you can't rectify. And anyway, I'm a lot better than I used to be, believe it or not. Six years ago I'd have had to spend the next few days in Medlab after that, and now all that happens is a slight headache. I call that progress."

"Um..." What exactly was the right response to that? "Yeah. I really just meant your name. Because it's not David. But you have to think of yourself or...um, whatever, as something right? Or should I just stop asking questions now and finish up my practice?"

"That might be a good plan." But he hated the idea of leaving her confused and distressed almost as much as he hated having to mislead. He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Moira. He'd sworn he wasn't going to do this with a student -- but then, he'd sworn he wouldn't do it with the staff, too, hadn't he? And Terry had already figured it out on her own.

Small steps.

"When I work I prefer to go by David," he said, raising his mismatched eyes to her blue, "but I think of myself as Jim. If you want to call me that in private, you can."

Terry smiled, "I actually prefer Mr. Haller. I don't really think that I need to be on a first name basis with my teachers. Except Nathan who doesn't like being called Mr. Dayspring." She paused, thinking, "And Alison." There wasn't really a good explanation for that one. She shrugged slightly, "I'll use whatever you like best."

Jim laughed. "David is fine. I'm used to David. As you can see, I have enough of an identity crisis without throwing a 'mister' in there, too. I'm almost afraid of applying for team -- one more name to answer to and I think my head really will explode."

Terry grinned, "David it is then. If you join the team at least you won't be a trainee. I'm a mite worried about what they'll come up with for my codename. I just know it'll be something dreadful. You'd stop them if they tried to call me Leprechaun, right?"

"I could try," Jim said, thinking about what he'd heard about trainee names, "but since the Japanese national ended up with Kamikaze I think you're screwed. You'll probably end up being Shamrock or something equally humiliating. It's a right of passage. Or so I keep hearing."

"Shamrock, I think I wouldn't mind. But I'm not one of the little people and I just know they'd make jokes about buckles on my shoes." Terry folded her arms, pouting a bit into the future in anticipation of the silliness. "I think Doug has the best trainee code name."

"Oh?" Jim raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Lexicon," the faint lilt in her voice made the word roll attractively. "It just sounds lovely. Really though, they do manage to do their names proud even when they're not the most illustrious. Tis the nature of the job, I suppose."

Jim nodded. "Looks like. Personally, I'm still trying to figure out how Mr. Marko got saddled with Hydrant." Or how Scott had managed to maintain a completely straight face while saying it, for that matter.

"He wasn't a trainee for long, at least." Terry giggled, "I don't know if Bobby didn't have a trainee name or if he just decided to keep it. That was a strange period."

"After a month in The Madness, I have faith in the staff's ability to come up with something unique and mortifying for the both of us. Given my history I'll probably end up with 'Headcase.' Or maybe 'Inconsistancy Lad'. Either would be appropriate, although the thought of anyone other than Charles calling me Lad is a little bizarre." He paused, regarding her thoughtfully. "I didn't even think to ask. Does the fact you're worrying about this mean you're trying to make team?"

"Aye. Unfortunately the Americans have this strange rule about 18 being the cut off age so I've a few months left before I can actually be a trainee." Terry rolled her eyes. "I wonder what they would choose for you. We don't often have new adult trainees."

Jim shrugged. "It's hard to say where I'd start off. I've never set out to use my telepathy in a fight, but then, I've also been working on control with Charles for over ten years, on and off. I guess they'll probably give me some kind of placement exam . . . if I can ever actually get at least two of the three COs in the same place at the same time, that is," he added wryly. He leaned back and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. "As for eighteen being the cut-off point, I suspect that's as much for their sake as for yours. I've worked with kids who got shoved into situations they weren't ready to handle. Been one, too. I wouldn't want to be responsible for some of what can happen, either. I guess if you've got to set an age limit on it, the age of majority is as good as any." He grinned. "If you're old enough to vote on the country's future, you're old enough to risk your life in interesting ways."

"It's not that hard to get them all together. I can give you a pretty good idea of the times when they have their lead meetings and then there are the design sessions." Terry trailed off and smiled like she hadn't sounded vaguely like she was referring to a schedule inside her head. "I'm not allowed to vote on the country's future anyway."

At times Jim wondered just how headblind he really was. Craftiness almost bled off the girl. "What can I say?" he smiled. "Sometimes you get the best of both worlds. Other times they just conspire to screw you over. If it makes you feel better, I suspect you're right -- they're trying to make it hard to join. But they've also got their reasons." He picked himself up out of the chair and shrugged amiably. "Sometimes it sucks to be right."

Terry sighed and nodded, "Aye, I know they do. They won't shake me anyway. I've been wanting to do this since I was little. Tis...important to me. Very much." She smiled at him. "I should finish up my practice."

"And I should go recuperate. I mean, get back to doing important adult things." Jim grinned. "Don't worry about it. I have a feeling you'll wear them down eventually. If nothing else, I'm sure the team could benefit from your interrogation skills."

Terry blushed, "I'm really sorry. Should I have not asked? You didn't say...Next time just tell me and I'll drop it, I swear."

Jim waved her off. "You're fine, Terry. I could have stopped talking whenever I wanted. I'm still new. In time, you'll discover I have a talent for breaking myself. Often. Like I said, it's a process." He flashed her another grin. "I think I'll be taking you up on that offer on the COs, though. It's getting a little ridiculous."

"We sort of specialize on that here. Most of the teachers have managed to break themselves more than a few times. The students give them a run for the title though." Terry turned back to her harp and flexed her fingers to warm them. "Do let me know when you need to see them. Sometimes they change their schedule and it takes a little bit to get it tracked again."

Something about the matter-of-fact way she said that last was mildly worrying. "A certain amount of breakage is normal, especially here. But we'll see what we can do about keeping the damage to a minimum." Jim grinned and headed for the door, giving her a vague wave from over his shoulder. "Enjoy your practice, Terry."

She waved, "Thank you, David." As the music room door eased closed again, soft music began to spill liquidly through the room.

Jim paused for just a moment, listening. Then he shut the door behind him, letting the soundproofing take most of the music. She really was very talented.

And it really was strange, he thought as he sought the comfort of his office, how so much truth could add up to so big a lie.