xp_logs | LOG: [Lorna, Marie, Davey] Trouble

Returning from a night out, Marie and Lorna find something unsettling. WARNING: Some disturbing imagery for evidence of self-harm and mental illness.

"No, actually he did. On his business card no less. With his compliments, my dear. " Lorna pulled the off-white card from her purse and held it out to Marie. "Go on, take it or I'll just find a way to plant it some place incriminating and then what will you do? He was convinced that you were a shy southern belle, I think he liked that a...did you hear that?" She frowned and stepped closer to Jim's door, tilting her head then jumped as another thump echoed inside the room. Lorna exchanged glances with Marie and laid her hand on the door, disengaging the lock. "Are you okay in there?"

There was a moment of silence, then the distinctive sound of someone scrambling through large piles of paper. The door opened. The face that greeted them was flushed, sweaty, and immediately broke into a huge grin. Lorna abruptly found herself being wrapped in a hug whose enthusiasm met the qualifications of "body-tackle."

"Lorna! LornaLornaLorna!" Davey burst, mashing his face into his friend's hair, "I'm bored!"

Marie, glad of the distraction from the unwanted card, felt her mouth drop open in surprise at watching the only aspect of Haller's personality she hadn't yet met come to life before her eyes. So this was Davey. She felt a strong internal desire to start giggling and squashed it, knowing that laughter was not the way to respond to this manifestation. At least, not right away. "Well that's no good, is it?" she said, smiling at the pair standing next to her. "What can we do about that?"

Lorna was still with shock for a moment--and a little out of breath as one tended to be when hit with six feet four inches of giddy best friend--then she folded her arms around Davey. "Is that what all that racket was? You being bored?" She peered around Davey, trying to see into the suite behind him and groaned a little at the utter destruction she could see. "Marie, this is Davey. Davey, do you know Marie?"

The alter's wide blue eyes revealed nothing but slight startlement and blank unrecognition when they fixed on Marie. Not that it made any difference. Davey switched off Lorna to take one of Marie's gloved hands in his, tugging at her arm.

"You should play with us!" he declared, focusing his efforts on the one evincing the most obvious signs of indulgence. "I say so. You can come in, too!"

Marie couldn’t help but be pulled along by the exuberant tugging, though her brain was still barely controlling the urge to giggle. “Why thank you, Davey,” she said, a wide smile still on her face. As she glanced around Haller’s room, she realized it was the first time she’d ever seen inside her teammate’s suite. Somehow she doubted her soft spoken, meticulous coworker left his books quite so…disarrayed. "Ah see you've been busy 'playing' already."

Behind them, Lorna sighed and muttered to herself as she bent and picked up a heavy book sprawled out over the floor in the doorway. It stuck a little to a piece of art--Lorna suspected juice was involved somehow and wished she'd worn boots instead of stilettos. And overalls instead of burgundy silk. And possibly a hazmat suit. She nudged aside a dump truck and kept following. This was...well, classic Davey but not normal Davey. This was Davey turned up to 11 and that was never a good sign. Lorna really wished Marie wouldn't indulge him when he was like this. When Jim came back she was going to strangle him until he told her what was wrong.

"You'd think they were more fun to throw too if you had to read them," Davey informed her. He kicked a stack of Jim's drawings in the direction of the mangled mound of textbooks his friend was trying to collect, creating an even bigger mess and completely ignoring it. He spun back to Marie, beaming. "But hi! Hi. I'm Davey and you're Marie. I like your hair. Does the white part feel different from the brown part? Lorna's doesn't but all her hair is that one color that makes her look like she stuck her head in toxic waste." He turned briefly from Marie to the woman in question and gave her an expectant look. "I'm hungry."

Lorna stared back, unimpressed. "What have I said about that?" she asked mildly before going back to trying to find the floor beneath all the paper, toys and books that covered it. She winced when she came across what had probably been a lovely sketch of a woman's hand before Davey and his crayons had begun improving it. "You could help me clear this up so that we have a place to stand," she glanced at the couch, "or sit."

It was only for a moment, but when Davey turned to look at Lorna the calculation in his gaze was almost audible.

Wordlessly, Davey crossed to the couch and picked up a stack of student case files. Then, with deliberate slowness disconcerting from the usually frenetic alter, he turned the simple manila folders upside down and let the contents spill onto the carpet.

Marie glanced from Davey to Lorna and back again, surprised by the outward defiance of the alter. She tended to think she was fairly good with kids and despite a tendency to be a bit on the permissive side, even she was taken aback by his actions. Then again, this was her first experienced with Davey and she wondered if this was his typical behavior. "Maybe that wasn't the best way to clear space," she hazarded, trying to find a middle ground. "An' Ah imagine you know to treat stuff a little better than that. Why don't we try and do it together?"

Marie was nice. Considering her words, Davey decided it was worth attempting one of the oldest tricks in the book: blatant emotional manipulation.

"I don't leave things out hardly ever," he lied brazenly, waving his arms at the carpet of dead trees which rendered the actual carpet only theoretical, "but Jim always leaves his stuff everywhere. When he's messy it's okay, but when I am I get in trouble. I'm supposed to respect his space, but he doesn't respect mine. Isn't it supposed to be my room, too?" It was even better because this was in essence the same talk Davey had received from various therapists for over a decade.

"Jim...?" Marie started out questioningly, then flashed back to July on the beach in San Diego. Right. David. Jim. Names. One day, someone would explain it to her. Somehow she doubted Davey was the right person to ask. "Oh right, Jim. Wow, that's gotta be really hard for ya. But now, two wrongs don't make a right, do they?" She came over to stand next to the man, finding it a bit odd to look up into the wide blue eyes instead of down. "So maybe we can try and tidy up a bit and then we can figure out what to do about that respect, once we have some place to sit down and chat."

From where Lorna was busy removing a tractor from a deeply abused plant came an amused snort. "Oh, now you've done it." She didn't actually try to scold Davey for his creative approach to the truth. Marie wanted to be a psychologist, these kinds of little mistakes would help her in the future. Or possibly Lorna was just a sadist. "Have you ever babysat for any child ever, Marie?"

"Does being an RA count?" Marie asked. "Ah 'sat for a couple of my cousins a few times growing up too, but that was awhile back now." Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she bent to scoop up some of the papers on the floor before turning to Lorna. "Why?"

"Because right now at this very second? You are getting played by the ten year old." Lorna grinned briefly then looked around for the youngest of her best friend. "Davey, I'm serious. Come over here and help us clean up this mess, then we're going to talk about why you're being like this. Lying to Marie and destroying all these things? That's not cool at all." She picked up a VHS tape, the plastic cracked and tape spilling out, probably from having been stomped on.

In the space of the brief exchange Davey had been at first annoyed Lorna was undercutting a budding alliance. This had then moved on to a steadily building fury at her condescension. This was completely senseless since not only was there nothing unusual about Lorna talking to and about him as one would a small child, he normally celebrated it. Now he could feel his heart thumping in his ears. Why does everybody treat me like a little kid they can talk over like if they just shut the door on the next room I'm not going to notice something's happening I notice I notice enough enough ENOUGH

Davey raised fisted hands to his head and screamed, "Everybody stop telling me what to do!"

The counter was only a few short steps away; around it were stools. The old kind with fitted wooden joints and glue: thick, solid, and possessing no metal whatsoever. Moving with a speed and certainty that belied the gawkiness of his body, he grabbed one.
And threw it at Lorna.

"Davey, no!" Marie shouted as the books in her arms quickly dropped to the floor. She pushed off the ground, bursting quickly into flight to intercept the projectile, invulnerable arms stretching to bat it away from Lorna to bounce harmlessly against a wall. A 10 year old throwing something wasn't that worrying. A 10 year old in an adult body that towered over both women in the room? That was concerning and just a little frightening.

Concerning and frightening and just about the right speed to anger Lorna instead of making her back off. "Davey!" she scolded and started toward him, gingerly. Her spike heels made speed a difficult proposition but she gave it her best shot as Davey reached for another stool. Oh, this was really going to hurt. "Don't you dare!" She jumped the last couple of feet and caught him off-guard, catching him around the waist and sending them both back against a wall, his shoulder striking first. She scraped her knuckled and yelped.

"NO!" The pinned man thrashed to utilize any and every bodypart he could bring into play against his attacker while screaming at the top of his lungs, "No no no let me go get off STOP IT!"

"Ah do not get paid enough for this," Marie muttered under her breath as she dashed over to where her green tressed friend was trying to subdue Haller. She was glad she'd chosen to wear the low heeled boots, but she sighed as she glanced at her skirt. She'd have to be careful about her bare legs. Looking at the thrashing man, she realized her legs were not the primary concern at the moment. Wrapping her arm tightly around his legs, Marie held fast and strong. There was no way he'd be kicking either of the girls, though his flailing arms were still going nonstop. "Lorna, if Ah can get behind him, Ah can restrain him. Does this kinda thing happen often?" Because if it didn't, the situation needed to be reported.

"No, this is worse," Lorna said tersely, catching a bony elbow in the ribs. "Davey, please calm down," she begged, out of breath and patience. She tried to pull him backwards a bit so that Marie could get behind him. His flailing meant that she was also trying not to fall over at the same time, clinging to him as much as holding him still. "You need to calm down now before someone gets hurt," her plea ended with a bit of a shriek as her heel snapped.

Marie took the opportunity Lorna had given to slip behind Haller, restraining his arms first by locking them in place with her own. "Shh sugah, it's ok, take some deep breaths," she said as reassuringly as she could. As she scooted him into her lap to use her legs to stabilize him, her eyes blinked as she felt the warm familiar touch of Charles mind on hers just as she was considering a shout to his. She thanked G-d that he'd happened to chose that moment to take a break from scanning so that she could update him on whatever the hell was going on with Haller.

If he'd been Jim the implications of a girl's bare legs around his own might have been enough to derail him. As Davey the only thing he was attuned to was the moment of distraction he sensed from Marie, which he used to crack the side of his head into hers. Unfortunately an invulnerable recipient meant it didn't have the effect he was used to.

"Let me go! Ow!" The howl was accompanied by a violent throw of weight against her grip, jerking the alter's pinned arms. "You're hurting me! Ow!" Marie's strength impossibly outmatched even the most desperate dump of adrenaline, but the alter's scream ended in more pain than just that of a thwarted rally for escape. He pitched forward, whimpering, and in the little visible space between his shoulder and the girl holding him something dark and red glistened.

Lorna had stumbled back, off-balance, and was clinging to the back of the sofa, gaping at the sight of little Marie bearhugging Haller. The slick, matted wet on Haller's shoulder made her gasp, "Marie, careful, he's..." She cut herself off and stumbled to the pair, laying one hand on the side of her friend's neck and the other lightly touching his shoulder, ignoring the struggling. "What have you done here, hon?" Lorna murmured--voice soft to keep the worry from making it shrill. "Let go. Davey, will you let me see?"

Why the concern in her touch and voice should have done this to him Davey didn't understand, but there was a cool hand on his neck and suddenly he found his eyes burning with tears. Lorna started to lift the neck of his shirt away, and finally all the complete misery just bubbled over.

"It hurts," Davey blurted as Marie's grip loosened, and he didn't just mean his bleeding shoulder. The tears spilled out to cut messy trails down his flushed cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Lorna, it really hurts."

At that point Marie's grip loosened completely, though she still held him supportively. Shooting a glance at Lorna she finished updating Charles on the situation. He'd said it would be better if she didn't mention they were chatting, though he hadn't explained why. "Shh, it's ok sugah," she said, returning her attention to the man bleeding onto her shirt. The cute blue one that clung just the right way. She'd needed an excuse to go shopping anyway she told herself as reached out a gloved hand to wipe away the tears, splotches of wet darkening the cream colored silk.

"I know, sweetie. I know. We're gonna make it better, I promise." Lorna pressed a kiss to his cheek since he was too tall for her to reach his forehead and drew him gently away from Marie to sit on one of the stools. Having him sit actually brought him eye level and she ignored his injury a little bit longer to keep eye contact--green eyes on blue--and make sure he knew that her priority was him right now. "You've got to help me out a little bit though. Let's get this bandaged up first, okay? Does Jim have a first aid kit around here?"

The tantrum had been filling him up until he could feel it pushing up the back of his throat. Now that was gone. An image came to him, inexplicable and disconnected: a deer hanging suspended in the air, head down, as blood streamed from a single slit. Bleeding dry.

Davey hunched over the stool and used the excuse of scrubbing at his tears with his sleeve to break eye contact with Lorna. "In the bathroom." He added in afterthought, "It's weird in there right now."

Marie rose silently to walk into the bathroom, knowing that Lorna was the one Davey needed for comfort. She blinked in surprise as she looked at the medicine cabinet, not able to see her reflection. Weird was right she thought as she reached to finger the newspaper taped over the mirror. Shaking her head, she pulled open the cabinet, grabbing the first aid kit without taking much notice of what else was in there. Hurrying back out, she cracked open the kit and pulled out ointment and bandages. "Did you cover up the mirror Davey?" she asked, wondering if maybe one of the other alters had.

Davey's head moved in denial. "It's Jim." Why did admitting it make him feel so sick? "He's the one who always used to do it. I got to leave it up. It's because if we can see it makes us . . ." He struggled to quantify, and, failing that, just finished, "It's wrong."

Lorna bit her lip, not knowing what to say or how to deal with this. Finally she just moved her hand to his waist and plucked at his shirt, "Let's get you patched up, Davey. I need to be able to see your shoulder first, can you take your shirt off for me?" Even though she knew that she was dealing with a 10 year old at the moment--one whom she'd played Connect Four with more times than was strictly necessary--the cognitive dissonance of asking that of her best friend still made her wince slightly. Please God, let Betsy never find out about this.

Something twitched the boy's face. He wanted to do what Lorna said. but even without the benefit of direct communication between all parts one certainty rooted even in the youngest alter, as deep as his own bones: Never tell.

With a mute nod, Davey leaned forward and slowly drew off his shirt.

The long sleeves had concealed it, but there was no way to miss the bruises: purple and blue, yellow and green, violent against his pale skin. While some marks were shapeless others betrayed impact from sharp, hard edges, as if the trauma had been inflicted indiscriminately by whatever weapon was at hand. The shirt smeared blood across his shoulder from a gash a handsbreath long as he peeled it off; Davey dropped the stained mess to the floor and an awkward wad of gauze and tape fell with it, soaked with blood.

Marie couldn’t help but gasp audibly. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but what she saw most certainly wasn’t it. Picking up a sterile piece of gauze, she began to dab gently at the gash, cleaning the surrounding area, while holding another piece against it to slow the bleeding. "What happened?" she asked, though she’d seen enough self-harm to understand the what. The question was why.

"Charles made it stop." Davey swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the floor. "He put the power away so we could get better. We did. We were for a long time. But it got brought out again and now it's bad, and -- nobody'll -- why--" His voice cracked. He threw himself forward on the stool and wrapped his arms around his thighs, forehead pressed to his knees.

"What's going on?" Davey wailed, tears starting to soak part of his jeans. "Why won't anybody tell me? I want to talk to Charles. Please. I want to see Charles." His breath hitched in a sob. "Please."

Lorna bit her lip and watched Marie tend the still bleeding wound. She was afraid to touch him. Seeing the bruises, knowing they were there...she was afraid to touch him. Her hand shook as it came to rest on his head, fingers curled into his hair. "We need to have one of the doctors see you first." Jim had already told her about this, Lorna realized. I already talked to Moira since she's the one who oversaw treatment last time. He'd told her and she'd told him that she wasn't going to pry. She ignored it. And now this. She'd looked the other way and now Davey was crying. "Moira's not here right now. And Charles is busy looking for the people who have been causing all these explosions. But I promise we'll see him as soon as we can."

Securing a fresh bandage over the newly cleaned wound, Marie could barely keep her hands from trembling. Her gloves were now stained with crimson and she stared at them before collecting the wads of used bandages and silently going to throw them away. She didn't know how to fix this, didn't even know if there was a way to fix this and she didn't like feeling like there was nothing she could do. "It'll be ok," she said soothingly, the words sounding like a lie to her own ears, but it was better than saying nothing at all.

The alter focused on a pile of ruined drawings and said nothing to that, because he knew what Lorna and Marie didn't. There would be no talk with Charles. There wasn't even the possibility. Any time Davey tried to see Charles, or Moira tried to talk about Charles, or the man even tried to touch his mind Davey just . . . went away.

And Jack came out.

Lorna's hand was still in his hair, and the touch brought an impression with it: another hand. A woman's, not Moira. Not someone of his. Someone who made Jim calm. There was no name in his mind, not even a face, but . . . something. A hand on his shoulder, fingers settling in his, and a sort of lightness that was hard to describe. Like a butterfly settling on his skin. Like balance.

Davey closed his eyes and exhaled, and let himself be calmed.

"Can we play something for a little while?" A scarred hand drew across his eyes. Davey raised a tear-blotched face to the woman standing over him, then the one by the trashcan, and his voice had a hint of pleading. "Please?"

Lorna reached out carefully and wiped tears from his cheeks, forcing a smile, genuine but hard to come by anyway. "Sure thing, hon. Since you said please. How about some juice and something to eat too? Maybe some brussel sprouts or beets? Those are your favorites, right?" She glanced at Marie, not sure if she'd stay as well. "Marie, how about you? Up for some Connect Four or Yahtzee?"

"Mmm, brussel sprouts," Marie said. "How could Ah leave with that offer on the table." She glanced down at her blood stained shirt, gaze trailing to the stains on her glove. Pushing the thought that rose to the surface of her mind back, she forced a smile onto her face for Davey. "Ah'm up for a couple games. Which one do you want to play?" she asked as she carefully peeled off the gloves, also tossing them into the trash. She would have to be very careful until she made it back to her room.

The agreement split the young alter's face with a wild grin. "Connect Four is only two players and I want food Lorna doesn't make out of evil. Like potato pancakes. Um, shirts! I can lend you a clean shirt even though it'll be big, and I should get one too because it's cold and also Inappropriate." He knew Lorna didn't like it when he lied, but he'd just told two in one breath anyway. Davey wasn't cold, and after all the hospitals he'd been in there wasn't much room for modesty left, but Lorna and Marie could just look and see what Jack had done. Knowing that made him . . . ashamed.

The alter pushed himself out of the stool in a flail of limbs, a defiance of the damage he could feel even now. Davey darted to the doorway of Jim's room and paused to look over his shoulder at the two girls.

"I don't know what to play, but you guys better let me win."