xp_logs | LOG: [Julio, Haller] Not exactly counseling

Looking for Moira before her migration back to Muir, Julio runs into Haller. Or one of him, anyway.

Tok, tok, thmp. Tok, tok, thmp.

The blue rubber of the stressball struck the same pattern each time: floor, wall, hand. How long he'd been doing it now he didn't know, nor did he particularly care. Introspection was not his job. That was why he was out. Xavier had already come and gone, looking for Jim. He'd gotten Jack instead. And they both knew how productive those sessions turned out to be.

Now Xavier was gone, and Jack wanted to move. He wasn't leaving the lower level, not yet, but at least he could get out of that goddamn room. The fact he was still doing what Jim wanted didn't even bear thinking on. Instead he let the anger sit there in his gut, stagnating like rainwater caught in the base of an old tire, and sunk himself into ceaseless motion. Action. There was something steadying about action.

Steady was what they needed.

Tok, tok, thmp. Tok, tok, thmp.

Last night had been the worst of the nightmares yet. It seemed the further he got away from those events the more vivid his dreams became. He'd dreamed of the security guard this time. Julio's wrists and legs were trapped by bands of metal while the man was forced to shoot himself as he watched. He awoke with his arms and legs tangled in his sheets, the smell of gunpowder in his nose and the sounds of Rachel's crying.

Having horribly vivid nightmares around a telepathic infant was not a good thing. Moira had suggested he come down to the medlab for some sleeping pills. While he was not too happy to have to take them, he owed Nathan and Moira a lot. The fact that he was projecting to Rachel, even unwillingly, upset him more than he would ever tell.

He turned the corner to Moira's office, only to be blocked by an angry-looking man sitting in a chair and bouncing a ball off the walls.

The sudden sense of movement in the hallway tensed Jack's muscles like an electric shock. Someone had come up behind him. Jack didn't like when people came up behind him. Hand snapping out to intercept the ball as it rebounded, Jack whirled the borrowed chair around to face the intruder.

Dark hair, dark eyes -- a kid. That kid. Well, that was about the opposite of a threat. Jack settled back in the chair, grey eyes losing their sudden narrowness.

"Sorry if I startled you," the man said levelly, taking in the boy's resemblance to a deer sighting an oncoming semi in the dark. He swiveled the chair back to face the end of the corridor again, raising his hand to resume his interrupted exercise. Jim had buried himself so deep in his psychic bunker for Charles' visit the boy's presence didn't even raise a flicker, but it didn't matter. Jim hadn't been the only one on that beach. "Julio, right?"

Julio almost took a step back, and then rolled his eyes at his overreaction. He'd been doing that a lot lately too, any sudden movement would startle him, making him nervous and jumpy almost all the time. It was starting to get very annoying. Right, nothing to fear, he thought to himself, Nothing wrong here, Moira or Dr. Voght wouldn't let him wander around if he was dangerous. Julio unclenched his fists and exhaled. "Si, that's right. And who are you?"

"Sometimes the guy who'd get paid to listen to your feelings. Not right now." Falling into the old arrangement was automatic. Rubber smacked against Jack's palm, firm and solid. "Call it a sabbatical."

"Ah." Weird. "Well, I do not like to talk about my 'feelings' anyway," Julio used his fingers as quotation marks, "So you are free to continue bouncing your ball." He sighed, too bad the man was blocking the way to Moira's office. Looking for another way around would make him late.

"Then we'll get along fine." Floor, wall, hand. Floor, wall, hand. Jack swiveled the chair back and forth absently. "So, anyone been giving you shit? --Nah, guess they wouldn't. Real understanding of destruction, this place." His mouth twisted in a grudging smirk beneath the stubble that was uncharacteristic of Jim but not of Jack, and he added in a slightly quieter tone, "Worse places to be."

Julio leaned against the wall. He was going to have to go through this man, pride was demanding it. But Julio couldn't help but feel intimidated. "Yes, amazing how forgiving they are. Not every day you would find a place that lets a person who murdered over three hundred people in with just a pat on the head."

"Yeah, I think you're in the lead there. My first time I only killed six, plus one very shitty 7-11. You want to talk to Dayspring. I think he fronts the triple-digits club. Or Logan. Doubt he could confirm it, but I think you can safely assume." Jack paused in his bouncing, contemplating the ball impassively. "You'd be amazed how many murderers are now gainfully employed here. It happens. You wipe the blood off your hands and move on." If he's smart, he'll figure that one out faster than David did.

Jack glanced at Julio, eyes half-lidded. "By the way, if you're looking for MacTaggert she's made a run for town before heading out to Muir. If any redhead will do, the creeping mist is on call."

Julio exhaled, thwarted. He rubbed his eyes, too many sleepless nights were catching up with him. "I was just supposed to get sleeping pills. I would rather it be Moira that gave them to me, since she offered." He decided he liked the man and his bluntness. Too many people were trying to coddle him already.

"I can let her know. Unless you'd rather stick around, but only the clinically deranged do that." Passing the message along wasn't any hardship. Given his current mood Davey would probably switch in the minute Moira stepped out of the elevator, but Jack and Davey had no problems communicating. The ball and chair were both hers, anyway. She and Jack knew each other from way back. The alter smiled thinly and sent another pitch into the tiles. "And of course, there's always drinking."

"Ah, but this is America," Julio spread his hands, "they have funny ideas about how old you need to be to drink." And he didn't want to think about the loss of control that would entail. It was bad enough that he'd caused the windows in the boathouse to rattle once this morning. "As for waiting, I spent enough time down here. It makes me feel...como se? Trapped."

"Yeah?" Jack's mouth quirked, eyes remaining fixed on the opposite wall. "Can't be trapped by anything but the inside of your own head. Get over that, you could go a month in this place, easy. Don't, and the walls close in on you in the middle of the Mohave." Hear that, 'Jim'?

Julio snorted a little. "I have found that sometimes neither the inside or outside of my head is very safe. Gracias for your help, I will come back looking for Moira later," he yawned, suddenly. "Or not." She was taking Rachel with her anyway.

"Said it'd keep you free, not safe. Doesn't matter. Take care."

As Julio turned to go Jack tossed the ball straight into the air, then reached out with his mind to bat it against the opposite wall. The brief twinge of pain and cold, broken feeling in one nostril were barely acknowledged; it was coming back. Not the same as it had been standing in the white sand against the wave, not by a longshot, but it was still good -- like a voluntary twitch of muscle after years of paralysis. He could walk again. Running could wait. The telekinetic smiled as he darted almost out of his chair to intercept the wild return before it could catch the retreating boy in the back of the head.

Free, yeah. 'Gracias' right back at you, kid.