Log: Laurie and Doug

[x-wallflower-.livejournal.com]

Backdated to Wednesday 24th December 2008 at around noonish.

Doug comes to visit Laurie, and tell her of Master Lee's requirements for her return to his Dojo.



Laurie blinked awake suddenly, her eyes squinting against the sudden light from the door. It took her a moment to adjust, and then she smiled tiredly at Doug.

"Hi." she said, a short whisper of breath rather then the usual strong, somewhat exuberant greeting that was her standard. She looked around for the whiteboard she'd been using to talk to people, and then winced as her joints made it known that such vigorous movements were ill advised at this point in time.

"Hello, Laurie," Doug said. The girl looked rather like death warmed over, with the IV tube coming out of the back of her hand, and the way she lay back on her pillows. She'd done a fair job of running herself into the ground, it seemed. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugged, finally locating the white board and marker they'd given her. She hesitated for a moment before writing on it and holding it up to Doug.

'How do I look like I'm feeling?' was written in careful block letters on the board.

The careful way she emphatically wrote, as well as the text, fairly obviously said sarcasm to Doug. He could live with sarcasm. "You look a little bit like you're feeling sorry for yourself," he observed with a raised eyebrow. "You also look like someone who pushed themselves way beyond the limits of good sense."

Laurie leaned back on her pillows for a moment, her eyes studying the ceiling above her with feigned deep interested as she tried to think of an appropriate response. It came to her that being able to take the time to reply to things was something of a relief in some ways.

She sat up again and started to scribble on the white board, and then held it up.

'I figure having pneumonia gives me a pass on the emoness. As to pushing myself too hard, I suppose I have to concede that I did, considering the outcome.' was written clearly on it.

"I don't know about a pass on the emo, considering that you concede that you pushed yourself too far," Doug replied with a firm glance at Laurie. So how much of a lecture did you get from Jean after I left?" he asked.

Laurie wrinkled her nose, but wiped off the whiteboard and wrote again, before turning it to face Doug. She would be so very glad when she could speak again, despite the lack of time in crafting replies that talking entailed.

'What do you think? I'm not allowed to talk till my throat heals, and I'm not allowed my laptop till I can prove that I'll actually rest.'

"About that," Doug said with a dry chuckle. "Not to pile on, but Master Lee sends me with a touch of a lecture as well. You aren't to come back to class until you're cleared by a doctor that you're physically okay, and a counselor that you're mentally...together and won't do the same thing again." Master Lee's language had been a bit more blunt and straightforward, but Doug figured he could soften the blow at least a little bit.

Laurie just stared at him for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she let that sink in.

'Mentally okay?' she wrote on her whiteboard, the marker squeaking in protest from the force of her writing.

The phrase 'head out of her ass' had featured in Master Lee's words to Doug, but he thought that might be a little too on-the-nose for Laurie to deal with at the moment. "He wants to know that you're not likely to do the same..." 'Idiot' was left unsaid. "...thing a second time. And he'd like someone's word other than yours on it." Doug shrugged diffidently. "Oh, and he says you're not allowed to quit under any circumstances," he added cheerfully.

'He couldn't stop me if I wanted to.' Laurie wrote, her expression mulish.

She didn't want to, of course. She wasn't going to, but the idea that she would have to get a note from Dr. Samson before she was allowed back felt like a slap in the face. She wasn't that bad, she'd just misjudged her degree of unwellness, that was all.

"Maybe he can't, but _I_ can," Doug told her sternly. "Even if it means putting you over my shoulder and carrying you all the way to the dojo." He could practically see the rationalizations starting behind her eyes. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. "Stop being a child and start taking some responsibility for your actions. You want to be treated like an adult? Start acting like it."

'Fine.' she wrote, and then after a few seconds thought, scrubbed it out and wrote again. 'I'm not acting like a child. I'm just tired. I'll get the notes. Why do you care?'

The shortness of the pen-strokes didn't make it all that difficult to make a guess at what Laurie had written and then erased. "Yes, you are." He shook his head sharply. "Because you're still making excuses for yourself and not owning up to your mistakes." He shrugged. "So what, you made a mistake. You're not perfect. Congratulations. Welcome to the human race." He snorted wryly. "You think you're the first person that Master Lee has had to lecture?" He waved his hand. "I missed several classes back when Forge and Kitty and I helped rebuild Haroun, and forgot to call or have someone else call for me. So when I went back I got to sit on my knuckles doing pushups for about twenty minutes while I got lectured on courtesy."

Laurie closed her eyes, swallowing convulsively and then wincing as the gesture burnt. Her throat was still red raw, and she'd not been taking as much care with it as Jean might have wanted.

He didn't understand, she thought. It wasn't some sort of 'I must be perfect' teenage psycho drama for her, it wasn't some childish need to always be right. She'd trusted her friends with her mutation, and she'd ended up in jail, and a boy had ended up dead. She'd thought going on a rafting trip would be fun and she'd almost killed Haller, would have if Jean hadn't been there. She'd hurt her father, and it was only a miracle he was still talking to her, after what she'd done.

So many mistakes, and always, always someone got hurt. She couldn't afford them anymore, she couldn't bear the cost.

'I'm not worried about those sort of consequences' she wrote finally, turning the board to Doug.

"You're still making excuses for yourself, though," Doug told her. "Hiding away from the fact that you're not perfect. So what? Nobody is. You just do the best you can, and accept that sometimes you're going to mess up."

'What do you suggest I do?' Laurie wrote, but it took her several moments, and several wiped out phrases before she successfully got a response that didn't look like an attack.

"Haven't you been listening?" Doug asked. "Stop making excuses for yourself, apologize and mean it. And here's a hint for free." He smirked wryly. "If it starts 'I'm sorry that you...', then you don't mean it."

'Tell Master Lee I'm sorry if I scared him, or any of the others?' Laurie finally wrote, and then she firmly put the white board aside and slid back down on the bed. She felt tired, and sick, and she didn't want to talk any more.

That sincere apology would do for a starter. "I can do that," Doug told her, crossing to the bed and pulling Laurie's blanket up to her shoulders gently. "I hope that you feel better soon," he said, dimming the lights on his way out.