Scott's project for Doug...
Jan. 20th, 2004 04:36 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsSet today, after classes. Around three-ish.
Scott moved down the hallway toward the student rooms, looking for Doug's. He tried to keep off the student floor as much as possible...
...to give them their own space, without teachers or adults looming over them all the time. But with Doug missing classes and Em coming to see him, there was cause.
He stopped at the right door, and knocked a few times. "Doug? It's Mr. Summers, you okay in there?"
Doug had been dozing off and on throughout the day, but he was currently awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking. Hearing the knock, he struggled into more of a sitting position, swinging his legs off the bed. "Mr. Summers? Come on in," he replied.
Scott opened the door slowly, eyes sweeping around the room once before settling on Doug. /Good, no one else at home./ "You missed class, and Em was worried about you. Is there a problem?" He moved into the room and closed the door.
Doug scooted himself to the end of his bed and reached towards his desk, dragging his chair over for Mr. Summers to sit on, trying his hardest to be polite and a good host. He dragged a hand wearily across his face. "What did you hear about yesterday?" he asked.
/Ah,/ Scott thought. /Embarrassment of the highest caliber./ "Some dancing in the hallways," he said aloud. "What really happened?" Scott moved to the chair and turned it around, sitting down and crossing his arms over the back.
Doug leaned back against a large throw pillow and sighed. "I was just feeling...really good, yesterday afternoon. And then some music came on my MP3 player, and I just felt like doing something silly. And it went from there. I guess it started getting out of hand when I was singing to Amanda and lost my shirt, but I was just feeling so good, I didn't care. And then Mr. Marko showed up to break it all up, and all of a sudden I didn't feel good any more. As a matter of fact, I felt like death warmed over. Marie put me to bed. I tried to eat something this morning, but I puked it right back up, and Marie came by to check on me and told me I shouldn't worry about class and that she'd let my teachers know." His fingers clenched involuntarily in his lap, a subconscious memory of the shakes that had hit him while Marie was taking care of him.
Scott tried not to sit up straight as Doug's words hit home, in a place he hadn't thought of in a long time. He didn't want to scare the boy, but instinct took over. He managed to relax himself again, but the reaction was there. "When did you start feeling good, Doug? Do you remember?" /Can't be drugs...another mutant's powers?/
Doug nodded jerkily. "I went over to drop off the translated notes from psychology class for Manuel. We talked a little bit, and we were both just feeling happy. And then Manuel said something was wrong, that he was never that cheerful and happy." Doug shivered in remembrance. "I know Manuel is an empath, and I know he doesn't have all that much control of his abilities. I think it might have just been an accident."
"But it lasted after you left him. It wasn't just an immediate area effect." Scott looked at Doug carefully, looking for any other signs...of crashing. "Like a sugar rush, then crash, but worse, hmm? Think you'll be okay?" If Manny wasn't always happy, then at least that was something. Kids wouldn't be running back to him for their latest "happy hit" but it did set up more serious implications.
Doug shrugged. "I don't really know how Manuel's power works. Once the contact is made, I don't know how you'd go about breaking the connection. For that matter, I don't really know how the connection was broken yesterday." He shook his head. "And...I don't know. Marie gave me some stuff that knocked me out, and I feel a little better now, but..." He stared down at his hands. "I just...started shaking a lot. And I couldn't stop."
Scott looked at Doug's hands. Moving his chair closer, he reached out with his hands to cover Doug's. "It's okay. Kinda like ... " He stopped himself, not saying the W word. "...diabetics, when their blood sugar is low. Crashing. Can happen when you're tired, too. Or when you get clean from drugs. I don't think it's that serious, though. And no doubt a little bit of embarrassment thrown into the mix, just for kicks, hmm?" Scott took his hand back, and smiled in sympathy. "We all do strange shit every now and then, and kick ourselves later for it. Don't think it'll go away as you get older. You just stop blushing."
Doug chuckled wryly, with a touch of self-mockery in it. "I seem to have made a habit of doing strange shit more often than 'every now and then'. And yeah. Plenty of embarassment." He blushed at remembering how Marie had had to put him to bed the previous night, and mother him that morning like he was five years old with a touch of the flu. He wasn't going to even think about the underwear drawer. Nope. Not at all.
"Rest is a good idea. Em had the right idea." Scott decided not to bring up his project right now. Doug had enough on his mind at the moment. Though, he reconsidered, it might help him get his mind off of /those/ subjects and onto new ones. "Think you're up to hearing about the project? Or should I find you in a few days?"
Doug shrugged. "Why don't you tell me about it. I've not got much to do right now but sleep and think, so I might as well get started thinking about it."
Scott glanced at the door before turning back to Doug. "This has to do with Ms. Braddock. Did you, by chance, happen to catch our comment exchanges on the journals the other day?" He hunched over the back of the chair a bit, closing in on himself. /Secret, hush hush/ he was fairly shouting it with his body language.
Doug nodded and leaned forward, his voice lowering in instinctual response to Scott's body language. "I did. Why?"
"Alison picked up on something as well, but we're just not sure /what/. If you compare the comments in Logan's journal versus the ones in my journal, doesn't it seem to you that they were almost from different sources?" Scott watched Doug for his reaction, hoping that someone else, someone more /outside/ of the situation than he or Ali, had seen it as well.
Doug's eyes narrowed as he thought about it. "You know, you could be right," he mused. Suddenly something else occurred to him. "Not to mention the sparring session they had. It was...I've never seen Ms. Braddock like that. She was baiting Logan, playing with him. Not to mention her proficiency with that katana. I seem to recall someone saying that she shouldn't have had that level of talent."
Scott nodded in agreement, his posture relaxing, but only slightly. His voice was still low, quiet. "Exactly. There are also the memory gaps, where she doesn't recall what she did. Shiro seeing her practice with the sword at first. The incident with Sarah." His voice lowered even more, definitely a conspirator's tone as he leaned in closer to Doug. "I don't know what Essex did to her, but I'm certain this can be traced back to him." Scott stood up then, and paced around the room, avoiding any piles of kid-things with ease.
Doug watched Scott pacing back and forth. "What do you think is going on? You must have some kind of a theory, I'm guessing."
"MPD," he said simply, not pausing as he moved about. "There's someone else living inside her head. Essex's operation, or the resultant coma, may have triggered a split. Or, since we have no idea what he did, or even if what he said he did was accurate, he may have somehow put something /inside/ her, and that something...one...wants out. Control. Power." Scott stopped and turned to Doug. "I .. /We/ need to know who's in control. I've spoken to her in person a few times since she awoke. Early on, it was definitely her again. But now...I'm not so sure. She doesn't talk like Betsy. Not all the time. Nor act like she did."
He hoped Doug would get the idea, but he was going to spell it out if necessary. He hated using a kid like this, but it was all for their own good. Their own safety.
Doug nodded as Mr. Summers laid out all of his suspicions, realizing why he was the one Scott was asking to help with this. "And you want me to watch her," he replied. "If it's not her in there, her body language will be different. What do you need me to do?"
Returning Doug's nod, Scott moved back to the chair, this time spinning it around, but instead of sitting, he put his hands on the back of it and remained standing. "Just try to see the differences. If you can tell ... well, first off, how many there seem to be, if we're not all just imagining it. Is there a shift, a change? You don't need to be talking to her, and I certainly don't want you stalking her. That could bring in all kinds of problems. She may notice it after a while. Being a telepath, though her abilities may still be dampened, she may be able to tell what you're trying to do. So discreet is the word of the day here."
Scott looked Doug in the eye, as best he could with the ever-present glasses. "I don't want you to put yourself at risk. By all rights, I shouldn't be asking you to do this. But I'm worried, Doug. More than worried. Scared. I...we need to know. But if you can't do it, if you don't want to, just say so." Scott stayed watching Doug, his body tense with anticipation, awaiting the response.
Doug fell silent for a minute, pondering the ramifications of his decision. Finally, looking up at Scott, he nodded. "I understand. I'll do it."
Sighing, Scott didn't smile. Half of him felt like he'd just put an "Open Season" target on Doug's back, visible only to Betsy, or whatever else lived inside her. But the other half sagged in relief. Scott, meanwhile, stood there, and finally managed a small smile. "Thanks, Doug. Do you think you have a good idea of what she was like before the surgery? How she moved, acted, held herself?"
Doug nodded. "She was one of the people that came to pick me up and bring me to the mansion. So, yeah, I know what she was like."
"Good, good." He smiled more now, but it wasn't necessarily a happy grin. There was something of deviousness to it, and a big of smugness. "Then can you let me know what you observe, the changes you see? I know it's part of your power to see them, but if there's something you can tell me, some indicator, please..." He trailed off, shrugging. "I want to know who I'm talking to at any given point in time. If I can. Or at least, if it's not /her/."
Doug grinned back. "I'll do my best, Mr. Summers. I figure that since I have a class with her, it ought to be a fairly good way to keep an eye out, hopefully without raising anyone's suspicions."
"Thank you, Doug." Scott offered his hand to the boy, his grin finally matching Doug's, and his manner easing for the first time since he entered the room. "Thank you."
Doug clasped the offered hand and shook. "You're welcome. I'm glad I could help."
"Me too." Scott firmly shook Doug's hand, then released him and pointed at the bed. "Now rest. I've given you something else to think about, but it's not so urgent that you can't spend a day in bed, recuperating." He headed toward the door.
Doug lay back obediently. "Yes, sir, oh captain my captain," he replied with a grin.
Scott chuckled with his hand on the doorknob. "At ease, Private Ramsey." Glancing over his shoulder, he released the doorknob long enough for a really bad salute, then headed out and down the hall. /I really hope that wasn't a very bad thing I just did./
Scott moved down the hallway toward the student rooms, looking for Doug's. He tried to keep off the student floor as much as possible...
...to give them their own space, without teachers or adults looming over them all the time. But with Doug missing classes and Em coming to see him, there was cause.
He stopped at the right door, and knocked a few times. "Doug? It's Mr. Summers, you okay in there?"
Doug had been dozing off and on throughout the day, but he was currently awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking. Hearing the knock, he struggled into more of a sitting position, swinging his legs off the bed. "Mr. Summers? Come on in," he replied.
Scott opened the door slowly, eyes sweeping around the room once before settling on Doug. /Good, no one else at home./ "You missed class, and Em was worried about you. Is there a problem?" He moved into the room and closed the door.
Doug scooted himself to the end of his bed and reached towards his desk, dragging his chair over for Mr. Summers to sit on, trying his hardest to be polite and a good host. He dragged a hand wearily across his face. "What did you hear about yesterday?" he asked.
/Ah,/ Scott thought. /Embarrassment of the highest caliber./ "Some dancing in the hallways," he said aloud. "What really happened?" Scott moved to the chair and turned it around, sitting down and crossing his arms over the back.
Doug leaned back against a large throw pillow and sighed. "I was just feeling...really good, yesterday afternoon. And then some music came on my MP3 player, and I just felt like doing something silly. And it went from there. I guess it started getting out of hand when I was singing to Amanda and lost my shirt, but I was just feeling so good, I didn't care. And then Mr. Marko showed up to break it all up, and all of a sudden I didn't feel good any more. As a matter of fact, I felt like death warmed over. Marie put me to bed. I tried to eat something this morning, but I puked it right back up, and Marie came by to check on me and told me I shouldn't worry about class and that she'd let my teachers know." His fingers clenched involuntarily in his lap, a subconscious memory of the shakes that had hit him while Marie was taking care of him.
Scott tried not to sit up straight as Doug's words hit home, in a place he hadn't thought of in a long time. He didn't want to scare the boy, but instinct took over. He managed to relax himself again, but the reaction was there. "When did you start feeling good, Doug? Do you remember?" /Can't be drugs...another mutant's powers?/
Doug nodded jerkily. "I went over to drop off the translated notes from psychology class for Manuel. We talked a little bit, and we were both just feeling happy. And then Manuel said something was wrong, that he was never that cheerful and happy." Doug shivered in remembrance. "I know Manuel is an empath, and I know he doesn't have all that much control of his abilities. I think it might have just been an accident."
"But it lasted after you left him. It wasn't just an immediate area effect." Scott looked at Doug carefully, looking for any other signs...of crashing. "Like a sugar rush, then crash, but worse, hmm? Think you'll be okay?" If Manny wasn't always happy, then at least that was something. Kids wouldn't be running back to him for their latest "happy hit" but it did set up more serious implications.
Doug shrugged. "I don't really know how Manuel's power works. Once the contact is made, I don't know how you'd go about breaking the connection. For that matter, I don't really know how the connection was broken yesterday." He shook his head. "And...I don't know. Marie gave me some stuff that knocked me out, and I feel a little better now, but..." He stared down at his hands. "I just...started shaking a lot. And I couldn't stop."
Scott looked at Doug's hands. Moving his chair closer, he reached out with his hands to cover Doug's. "It's okay. Kinda like ... " He stopped himself, not saying the W word. "...diabetics, when their blood sugar is low. Crashing. Can happen when you're tired, too. Or when you get clean from drugs. I don't think it's that serious, though. And no doubt a little bit of embarrassment thrown into the mix, just for kicks, hmm?" Scott took his hand back, and smiled in sympathy. "We all do strange shit every now and then, and kick ourselves later for it. Don't think it'll go away as you get older. You just stop blushing."
Doug chuckled wryly, with a touch of self-mockery in it. "I seem to have made a habit of doing strange shit more often than 'every now and then'. And yeah. Plenty of embarassment." He blushed at remembering how Marie had had to put him to bed the previous night, and mother him that morning like he was five years old with a touch of the flu. He wasn't going to even think about the underwear drawer. Nope. Not at all.
"Rest is a good idea. Em had the right idea." Scott decided not to bring up his project right now. Doug had enough on his mind at the moment. Though, he reconsidered, it might help him get his mind off of /those/ subjects and onto new ones. "Think you're up to hearing about the project? Or should I find you in a few days?"
Doug shrugged. "Why don't you tell me about it. I've not got much to do right now but sleep and think, so I might as well get started thinking about it."
Scott glanced at the door before turning back to Doug. "This has to do with Ms. Braddock. Did you, by chance, happen to catch our comment exchanges on the journals the other day?" He hunched over the back of the chair a bit, closing in on himself. /Secret, hush hush/ he was fairly shouting it with his body language.
Doug nodded and leaned forward, his voice lowering in instinctual response to Scott's body language. "I did. Why?"
"Alison picked up on something as well, but we're just not sure /what/. If you compare the comments in Logan's journal versus the ones in my journal, doesn't it seem to you that they were almost from different sources?" Scott watched Doug for his reaction, hoping that someone else, someone more /outside/ of the situation than he or Ali, had seen it as well.
Doug's eyes narrowed as he thought about it. "You know, you could be right," he mused. Suddenly something else occurred to him. "Not to mention the sparring session they had. It was...I've never seen Ms. Braddock like that. She was baiting Logan, playing with him. Not to mention her proficiency with that katana. I seem to recall someone saying that she shouldn't have had that level of talent."
Scott nodded in agreement, his posture relaxing, but only slightly. His voice was still low, quiet. "Exactly. There are also the memory gaps, where she doesn't recall what she did. Shiro seeing her practice with the sword at first. The incident with Sarah." His voice lowered even more, definitely a conspirator's tone as he leaned in closer to Doug. "I don't know what Essex did to her, but I'm certain this can be traced back to him." Scott stood up then, and paced around the room, avoiding any piles of kid-things with ease.
Doug watched Scott pacing back and forth. "What do you think is going on? You must have some kind of a theory, I'm guessing."
"MPD," he said simply, not pausing as he moved about. "There's someone else living inside her head. Essex's operation, or the resultant coma, may have triggered a split. Or, since we have no idea what he did, or even if what he said he did was accurate, he may have somehow put something /inside/ her, and that something...one...wants out. Control. Power." Scott stopped and turned to Doug. "I .. /We/ need to know who's in control. I've spoken to her in person a few times since she awoke. Early on, it was definitely her again. But now...I'm not so sure. She doesn't talk like Betsy. Not all the time. Nor act like she did."
He hoped Doug would get the idea, but he was going to spell it out if necessary. He hated using a kid like this, but it was all for their own good. Their own safety.
Doug nodded as Mr. Summers laid out all of his suspicions, realizing why he was the one Scott was asking to help with this. "And you want me to watch her," he replied. "If it's not her in there, her body language will be different. What do you need me to do?"
Returning Doug's nod, Scott moved back to the chair, this time spinning it around, but instead of sitting, he put his hands on the back of it and remained standing. "Just try to see the differences. If you can tell ... well, first off, how many there seem to be, if we're not all just imagining it. Is there a shift, a change? You don't need to be talking to her, and I certainly don't want you stalking her. That could bring in all kinds of problems. She may notice it after a while. Being a telepath, though her abilities may still be dampened, she may be able to tell what you're trying to do. So discreet is the word of the day here."
Scott looked Doug in the eye, as best he could with the ever-present glasses. "I don't want you to put yourself at risk. By all rights, I shouldn't be asking you to do this. But I'm worried, Doug. More than worried. Scared. I...we need to know. But if you can't do it, if you don't want to, just say so." Scott stayed watching Doug, his body tense with anticipation, awaiting the response.
Doug fell silent for a minute, pondering the ramifications of his decision. Finally, looking up at Scott, he nodded. "I understand. I'll do it."
Sighing, Scott didn't smile. Half of him felt like he'd just put an "Open Season" target on Doug's back, visible only to Betsy, or whatever else lived inside her. But the other half sagged in relief. Scott, meanwhile, stood there, and finally managed a small smile. "Thanks, Doug. Do you think you have a good idea of what she was like before the surgery? How she moved, acted, held herself?"
Doug nodded. "She was one of the people that came to pick me up and bring me to the mansion. So, yeah, I know what she was like."
"Good, good." He smiled more now, but it wasn't necessarily a happy grin. There was something of deviousness to it, and a big of smugness. "Then can you let me know what you observe, the changes you see? I know it's part of your power to see them, but if there's something you can tell me, some indicator, please..." He trailed off, shrugging. "I want to know who I'm talking to at any given point in time. If I can. Or at least, if it's not /her/."
Doug grinned back. "I'll do my best, Mr. Summers. I figure that since I have a class with her, it ought to be a fairly good way to keep an eye out, hopefully without raising anyone's suspicions."
"Thank you, Doug." Scott offered his hand to the boy, his grin finally matching Doug's, and his manner easing for the first time since he entered the room. "Thank you."
Doug clasped the offered hand and shook. "You're welcome. I'm glad I could help."
"Me too." Scott firmly shook Doug's hand, then released him and pointed at the bed. "Now rest. I've given you something else to think about, but it's not so urgent that you can't spend a day in bed, recuperating." He headed toward the door.
Doug lay back obediently. "Yes, sir, oh captain my captain," he replied with a grin.
Scott chuckled with his hand on the doorknob. "At ease, Private Ramsey." Glancing over his shoulder, he released the doorknob long enough for a really bad salute, then headed out and down the hall. /I really hope that wasn't a very bad thing I just did./
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...
Date: 2004-01-20 09:54 pm (UTC)Re: ...
Date: 2004-01-20 09:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-20 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-20 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-20 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-20 10:11 pm (UTC)But, I think I get evil, so I'm happy.
..
Is is sad that I've got 3 Xjournal conversations in three different communication forms?
no subject
Date: 2004-01-20 10:11 pm (UTC)Jazz has Big List. Too many things. Head go Boom!
no subject
Date: 2004-01-20 10:20 pm (UTC)(Or maybe that's just me. *shrugs*)
no subject
Date: 2004-01-21 12:13 am (UTC)Silly Boy
Date: 2004-01-20 09:55 pm (UTC)...
Date: 2004-01-20 09:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-20 10:00 pm (UTC)I wouldn't take anything you had to offer, Essex.
(heh heh heh)
no subject
Date: 2004-01-20 10:05 pm (UTC)Whoa!
no subject
Date: 2004-01-20 10:15 pm (UTC)In fact...
A World of No.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-20 10:22 pm (UTC)(heh heh heh)
A whole WORLD of wrong.