February 15: Jamie and Haller

[x-crowdofone.livejournal.com]

In which Jamie does his very best to break in the new student counselor, but unfortunately Haller is more-or-less immune to trauma, having built up a significant tolerance over the years.  They have a long and somewhat rambly conversation and find that they generally get along.



Some people--like about half of all Dairy Queens, in Jamie's experience--were of the opinion that ice cream was not a winter food. Jamie didn't agree.  And the fun part about being one of the people responsible for kitchen planning was, he always knew when the grocery runs were scheduled.  And, of course, it wouldn't do to overfill the freezer, so he'd sort of assigned himself the duty of cleaning out all the nearly-empty ice cream cartons the day before they bought brand-new ones.

And anyway. chocolate-strawberry-fudge-ripple-caramel-peppermint-rocky-road sundaes were just plain good.  So it was he didn't notice the door opening behind him.

Jim paused slightly at the sight of the kitchen's current occupant, but only slightly. It wasn't anyone he'd met yet, but the kitchen was hardly exclusive. The sight of half a dozen ice-cream containers took a little more time to process. Smiling, he let the door close behind him.

"Now that's impressive," Jim commented as he made his way to the counter to find himself a plate. It was an older student, which narrowed it down somewhat. He nodded towards the rapidly emptying containers. "Exterminating the hive?"

"Somebody has to," Jamie said cheerfully.  "It's a big freezer, but it's not pandimensional."  He turned around, offering his hand. "You're the new counselor, David, right?  Jamie Madrox.  Nice to meet you in person."

Jim smiled, extending his free hand to shake. "Likewise. You're the one who just applied for trainee status, aren't you?"

"That'd be me."  Jamie grinned ruefully.  "Alison's running me ragged on basic fitness these days--and I thought I was in shape.  But it's work worth doing."  He chuckled.  "I'm actually trying to figure out a way to ask my cousin Nate if this is how he felt the first couple weeks in Marine boot camp, without breaking security."

Jim laughed, taking a seat at the table. "Moira's sneakiness I'm acquainted with, yes. Unless she's got her coffee with her, anyway, in which case you can smell her coming a mile off." He pushed some of the casserole around on his plate, then shrugged and ate. "And no, I'm actually from New York. I'm one of the staffers who enjoy the distinction of being an ex-patient of Moira's as well as an ex-student of Charles'. Spent the last few years wandering around England. And Scotland," he added, in a louder voice. He gestured at Jamie with a forkful of casserole. "You?"

"Pure Kansas farmboy," Jamie said proudly.  "Well, my mom's from Vermont originally, but we don't hold that against her.  My family's been farming our land since the Civil War, though--" He snorted wryly. "I get the distinction of being the first mutant.  Mom and Dad sent me here to finish school right after the worldwide Excedrin commercial, when everything was still really tense and they heard the Professor was expanding enrollment."

Jim smiled ruefully. "Funny how many people here use the International Migraine as a benchmark . . . which it was for most of the world, I guess. I was on my -- fifth year on Muir by that point, I think, so my view's a little slanted. Although being on an island full of mutants when that happened was its own level of alarming." So had the feeling of a familiar psi-touch gone suddenly vicious, wrong . . . but the intensity of the assault hadn't been a surprise. He'd known Charles was capable of that kind of power. He'd experienced it. "But anyway," Jim continued, pushing the leftovers into a more scrapeable pile, "I had it a little easier. I don't think there were any other mutants in my family, but my aunt already knew Charles. She referred me back when the student body was still managable by a single human being."

Jamie whistled.  "Way back in the Dark Ages, huh?  When the Professor was trying to get stealth tech out of the Wrights, and everything?" He snickered.  "Must be a little different for you, coming back now." "Just a bit. Fortunately, Charles was nice enough to warn me before I made the decision. As did the rest of the staff once I was here. At great length." Jim waved his fork vaguely. "Given the majority of the staff's choice of euphemistically named side-projects, I was sure most of the notices would be about home invasion and mutant terrorists than the student body. I guess I was being optimistic."

"We've had home invasion and mutant terrorists," Jamie said helpfully.  "Not for a while, though.  And only two demon invasions actually on the property."  He snorted.  "As for the warnings about the student body, depends on who you heard it from.  Most of us--of them, I guess, now--aren't all that horrendous."

"I decline comment on the grounds it may incriminate my coworkers," Jim replied, deadpan. "Although I will say Scott mentioned the demon invasions. I am both intrigued and disturbed. Though I'd be lying if I claimed I didn't already know those aren't necessarily mutually exclusive around here."

"Well, they were pretty memorable, I'm not surprised you heard about them."  Jamie grinned.  There was a weird kind of pride in introducing new people to all the bizarre things that tended to go on at the mansion.  "Did he tell you a bunch of us got kidnapped to Asgard the summer before last?"

"No . . ." Jim paused, his fork hovering in midair, and blinked. "Though that would explain that conversation on the journals about Sif and the Norns trying to throw out underwear. I read that, but I honestly didn't want to ask." "Yeah, that's where that came from. It's a little complicated to explain, but the short version is, the X-Men kinda pissed Loki off and he tried to get revenge." Jamie shrugged. "It's weird how fast you get used to saying stuff like that, though."

Jim grinned at him. "It's funny. People keep trying to shock me, and it just isn't happening. Either I'm really burnt out, or my sense of incredulity took a fatal beating after ten years of associating with Charles. Although being a mutant set the bar pretty high to begin with," he conceeded. He returned Jamie's shrug with a smile. "I'm going to try not to piss off any elder gods, though. I know my limits."

"It's spoiling all our fun, you realize," Jamie replied mournfully. "You're not supposed to become immune to shock until a couple of months from now.  It's gonna throw off our whole schedule."

"I'm starting to suspect it was a preemptive move on Charles' part. It's pretty obvious this place drives people crazy, so he's trying to hire staff who are already slightly cracked." He raised his eyebrows and said in a more conciliatory tone, "Don't worry, I'm sure I'll have some kind of embarrassing public breakdown before the year's out. It's a pretty regular thing for me, so just tell the others to be patient."

Jamie snorted.  "I'll do that. Just try not to blow anything up when you do--Mr. Marko takes kind of a dim view of that kind of thing." With a thoughtful chuckle, he added "Though I think there's a case to be made about the place driving people crazy. I mean, I all but grew up in a Norman Rockwell painting and since I got here I've had two or three total breakdowns and one episode of the non-telepathic kind of hearing voices in your head."

"It's unfortunate that we're in a setting where hearing voices on your own is the normal option," the older man smiled. "Feel free to drop by if it ever happens again. I've got some experience in that area. Before coming here, even." Jim made a small toasting motion with his fork. "Ah well. The school giveth, the school taketh away."

"It shouldn't really come up, the Professor pretty thoroughly fixed it."  Jamie shrugged uncomfortably. "It was a whole evil twin thing, with complications.  I don't recommend the experience."

Jim's smile went lopsided. "I -- can relate. Not literally, of course," he ammended, because he recalled Jamie's power, "but similar." He glanced at the hand holding the fork, then turned it so Jamie could see the scarring. From the look on Jamie's face this was not a topic he wanted to pursue, but. . .

"I used to be severely disassociated," Jim said, toying with the utensile. "Part of me did some pretty terrible things to myself. And the people around me, too, sometimes. Just run-of-the-mill insanity. No demons or anything." His smile softened with amusement. "Granted, the erratic powers didn't help. If I were going to reproduce, I'd owe Charles my firstborn. Most of the progress I've made is thanks to him." The casserole was gone now, so he set the fork down on his plate and leaned back in his chair, cocking an eyebrow at Jamie. "Incidentally, feel free to tune out whenever I start turning into that teacher who shares too much. Apparently I decided to take the scenic route to 'Don't worry, I know from crazy'. That aside, my life has been shockingly uneventful." He hesitated a fraction of a second before adding, "For here."

"Well, that'll probably change.  I mean, you are here now." Jamie stirred the remains of his ice cream around the bottom of the bowl with his spoon.  "But this is the right place to be for that kind of thing--for dealing with it, I mean. All the friends I have here--I couldn't have made it without them.  And the Professor, well, he's one of a kind."  Jamie snorted.  "And feel free to tune me out if I start turning into that teenager who bemoans his life. I'm well-adjusted with a healthy sense of humor, I swear."

"It's okay, I can tell," Jim grinned. "What would be abnormal was if you didn't bemoan once in a while. You are a teenager, and you do live here. I agree about Charles, though. He's a lifesaver. Dr. MacTaggert, too. Fortunately for us, this place has an overabundance of miracle-workers."

Jamie laughed.  "Yeah, I think when I move out I'll miss the nice consistent half-dozen impossible things happening before breakfast every day.  Even when I'm not actually the beneficiary, it's just kinda reassuring to walk down the hall and see the laws of physics getting twisted into pretzel shapes."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "So says the student who can make autonomous copies of himself. But yeah. There's a kind of beauty to seeing the impossible consistantly prove to be possible. In a severely disturbing kind of way."

"Out of ectoplasm, no less."  Jamie grinned. "I've always been proud of my position on the list of weird and hard-to-explain mutations. What's really gonna burn your brain later is, what happens to the food when the dupe goes away?"

"One of the most important things I learned here was the virtue of knowing when to derail the train of thought," Jim smiled. He gestured to the icecream. "Although I guess that explains the range of flavors. And the quantity. You're eating for a dozen, after all."

Jamie laughed.  "Actually, what explains the range of flavors and the quantity is that I'm a teenager with a serious yen for ice cream. When I'm eating for twelve I don't mix things up like this--the flavors of whatever it is I'm eating are a lot more distinct if I eat them with different mouths."

"Now that's interesting," Jim said, raising an eyebrow. "So I take it all your duplicates share co-consciousness, rather than having entirely individual ones?"

"I'm getting pretty good at separating them, but yeah, that's how I default."  Jamie snorted.  "First six months after I manifested, I couldn't get my dupes to even move independently, but my brain's apparently physically designed for multitasking. These days I actually get a little antsy when there aren't two or three of me running around."  He stood up, bringing his empty bowl over to the sink for washing.  "Mostly I only cut a dupe out to independent running when I have to--I do have limits on multitasking even with the funky mutant brain--because the head-rush when the memories reintegrate is a little annoying.  Also, after Skippy I just feel more comfortable knowing where all of me is."

Jim half-smiled. "I can't say I haven't had similar thoughts at times. Adaptive consciousness in response to your mutation, huh? Interesting." He drummed his fingers against the tabletop reflectively. "At some point I'd like to take a look at your brain functions while your power's running. Once I've been here long enough for that not to sound slightly creepy, that is."

"Oh, absolutely."  Jamie grinned, running his spoon under the hot water.  "Although, fair warning, I'm told telepaths find me a little weird to look at, that way.  Like, um, have you read Good Omens?  That line where Anathema can't see Adam's aura for the same reason someone in Trafalgar Square can't see England, that's about the best comparison I've heard so far.  The minds are all where they're supposed to be, but the person is . . ."  He waved the spoon around vaguely, sprinkling water on the counter.  "Oops. Anyway, having my consciousness spread out between here and Manhattan makes it a little hard to focus on, but at the same time it's also present in several different places--I dunno.  You'll probably get a better description out of the Professor if you wanna ask. I've actually rated a 'highly unusual' from him a few times since I've been here."

Jim rose from the table, grinning. "Yeah, that sounds familiar. Did he throw around 'fascinating', too? You know you're unique when he defaults to Leonard Nemoy Mode. But then, to my knowledge I'm the only telepath he's ever worked with whose brain would actually explode if he even thought about using something like Cerebro, so I'm not one to make fun." He took his dishes to the sink and waited for Jamie to finish. "But I may be a little better equipped to read you than most telepaths. For a start, at least half of my brain is devoted to actively working against the natural inclination of my telepathy, so I'm used to the multi-tasking aspect." He snorted. "And now that I've said that, watch my brain explode when I try."

"You've got a real thing about your brain exploding, you know that?" Jamie grinned.  "We should definitely try that, though.  Properly supervised, anyway."  He snorted, moving aside and reaching for a dish towel.  "Because the absolute last thing we want is to get in the doghouse with Doc MacTaggart for blowing up our brains when she wasn't there to see."

Jim nodded earnestly as he began to wash his dishes. "I suspect Moira's opinion is that if you're going to explode your own head you can at least have the decency of doing it while she's around to mitigate the damage." He smiled faintly. "And we heed this, because the alternative is a scary, scary place."

"Exactly.  Fire-breathing dragons are not as scary as the Doc in full cry, trust me on this one."  Jamie snickered.  "Although I gotta say, she's a lot less impressive on rollerblades."

Moira on rollerblades? Jim's imagination tried to process this, and balked. "You know," he said evenly, wiping off his plate, "you don't really help with the brain-exploding."

Butter would not have melted in Jamie's mouth as he shot Haller a sideways look.  "You know, I get that a lot?  It's really a shame, I always used to think I was a really relaxing, low-key kind of guy to hang around with."

"Maybe. But that just makes you all the more insidious. That's okay. It's a refreshing change." The telepath smiled at him as he toweled the last of his kitchenware dry and moved to replace the items in the appropriate areas. "Sorry. The staff took great pains to warn me about the imminent threat that is the student body. Often, and at length. The paranoia is instinctive now."

Jamie snickered.  "Well, I'm a graduate now, I'm allowed to take short vacations from attempting to destroy the staff.  It's written into the school charter."