xp_logs | Jay & Mark - backdated Jan 10, Saturday

Mark gets an abrupt welcome, cracks a joke that isn't taken very well. Mark offers his support and in the end, Jay holds back as much as he can and Mark leaves, probably just in time.

Following his recent excursions to Germany and Ghana, Mark had elected to stay in Europe for a little while to be the cleaner-upper. But the second that Esther pinged with Amanda's message that Pete and the others had been found and recovered, Mark was on his way back to New York. He knew it, he told himself. It had been unimaginably difficult to delude himself for two months that the four were still alive, but he was right. He could barely keep his exuberance to himself on the flight home and at least two flight attendants (and the young exchange student across the aisle) got to experience first-hand just how exuberant he was.

The thought that Pete or Jay may not be as excited as he didn't dawn on him until he reached Xavier's. He had been pointedly told that under no circumstances would Pete accept anyone not on his short list of visitors, and apparently Jay was reaching that point, too. It had taken some time to convince the doctors to offer him just a few minutes with his friend, but when he received permission he wasted no time. The door to Jay's room slid open with its characteristic shush, and Mark's first step halted when he saw what sat before him. "Jay. Hi," he greeted, suddenly breathless.

They had taken down the clock for Jay, removed it by his request. He couldn't look at it knowing how slow time passed over the numbers, how the ticking counted off the seconds and the sound of it bore a hole in his head until the muscles over his shoulders strained. His headache only got worse though the silence wasn't driving him as crazy as it would have before. His muscles craved to be switched off, relieved from the cruel intent to keep them ready, tense. Maybe his body would just give up and die? Maybe something would malfunction, he'd have a heart attack and die? He already knew his healing factor was much faster, a fact they had pointed out very early when he came back. Even suicide was stolen from him and he wasn't sure he could endure the pain of having his spine ripped out again, even if it wasn't one he wanted.

Sometimes he paced. Sometimes he stood there, staring at the ground, the wall, staring through it, waiting for the illusion that this was all just a terrible nightmare at the end of a very long tunnel. Laying in the bed, staring vacantly into the room, Jay blinked slowly, turning his gaze to the spot where the mirror had been. His eyes narrowed and his breathing slowed, careful. Listen. Voices. He could hear them and closed his eyes, exhaling to the rhythm of his heart. Patience... Wait. The hairs on his skin rose up, a tingling pricking up his arms and shivered in anticipation from his wings.

The door opened and Jay leaped out of his bed, the tips of his wings slamming into through the metal flooring in perfect coordination to his feet. The tips landing on either side of Mark. Surprised broke his focus and he tried to take a step back only to find his wings stuck. "Shit," he cursed, frustration creeping over his face. He swallowed hard, brow creasing as he yanked them out of the floor and stumbled back two paces, grabbing the nearby sink for stability.

It was a testament to two plus years of training that Esther was in Mark's hand and queued up to Holst half a second before Jay cornered him, and the pleasant green force field surrounded him as Jay desperately retreated. Mark dissipated the bubble as quickly as it came up, though he was noticeably riled. "I can leave if you'd like . . ."

"If you want, you can stay," Jay offered, but it was not as weak as he had meant it. The tone had changed, come out as a taunt, a lure like he was fishing. He righted himself and his posture was tight, drawing his wings back until they folded and disappeared. He couldn't understand why he couldn't keep them out, why they disappeared for some, menacing for others. With his wings gone, his body language changed and he leaned against the sink, running two fingers over his dry bottom lip, as though he accumulated moisture at the corners.

"Want some water?" he asked.

"I'm good." After a brief moment of consideration, Mark dropped his iPhone back into his pocket, but mentally psyched himself so he'd be ready to unsheathe it again if it became necessary. "You know, we're going to have to find a whole new wardrobe for you. To bring out the hazel in your eyes."

"Ah like black. You wanna make another shitty joke, maybe about how red and blue clash?" Jay asked, clearly unhappy about the remark. He pushed off the sink and walked with a deliberately slow pace, edging around the room and stopping in a corner.

Mark's hands fell to his hips and a corner of his lips turned up in a self-deprecating half-smile. "Your shades match well, actually." He paused. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

Jay walked the length of the room again and turned, his attention stilling his movements. "Didn't mean anything by it? You're makin' fun of me. You think Ah'm laughin'? That Ah can go to school like this? Ah had trouble with just mah wings, now Ah'm blue! Ah can't go to Silver and pick up where Ah left off. Ah can't do anything with this!"

"I'm not making fun. And I think you're seriously underestimating Silver if you think that you're gonna phase them. Blue skin is nothing new. The wings?" Mark shrugged. "OK, those might be shocking at first, but it's not gonna change how we think about you. Look, I'm sorry that I offended you, Jay. But I just want you to know that I'm your friend, and you can ask me for anything you want, I don't care."

"Ah'm not underestimating anything, especially not the wings." Especially the wings. How could he explain how he was feeling? How he was so buried in mind mucking insanity that he couldn't get a good grasp on anything he was doing, going to do or wanted to do. "You think Ah can just get past all this? Look at mah eyes, feel mah skin, here, feel it. Like sandpaper. It ain't soft," Jay's hand reached out, offering his hand.

Mark took Jay's hand in his own and looked at him straight in the eye unflinchingly. "What happened to you isn't something I can say anything about, really. I don't know if it's something you can just ignore or if it's gonna preoccupy you for months. I don't know and I'm not asking. I just . . . I'm saying that if you want to talk or hang out or whatever, you can ask me. I'm here, as judgmental or non-judgmental as you'd like."

He hadn't meant for the long hold, instead intent on withdrawing it as quickly as he had proven his point. But the hold kept him there and his wings unsheathed like someone who would uncross their arms in surprise. The offer was genuine and he didn't question whether or not Mark would be there, but if he could be there. Jay recoiled his hand, pulling it abruptly from the grasp. He ran one hand over the other, backing up a pace. His eyes narrowed, brows creasing at the uncertainty piling up over his confusion. "Mark, Ah... uh..." he stammered. "Ah can't," he said quietly. "Ah can't be around you. You or anyone."

"I'll leave. Lemme know if you wanna come back. Whenever. Silver still hasn't reopened yet but you know there'll always be a place for you." Mark hesitated, quashing down his normal touchy-feely instincts to hug or shake hands or make at least some physical contact. That would probably not end well for either of them, though, he could tell. "See ya," he said as the door hushed open and closed to let him out. He hoped he meant it.

The tone bit into Jay, cut through him to the core of his anguish. The touch had reminded him of what was taken from him, who left him and what he was now. Mark's words of 'being there' were disreguarded and the visit only became a cold knife plunging into his gut.
As the door hissed closed, a keen was muffled by the sound proofed room and so were the twenty six razor sharp feathers that pierced the other side.