xp_logs | Jay & Shiro

Shiro comes to apolgize to Jay.

In all the years since he'd first manifested, Shiro could count on one hand the number of times he'd lost complete control and seriously endangered the lives of others. Slip ups were to be expected, especially with powers as wild and dangerous as his. But he had not gone nuclear in years. It was only good fortune that it happened down in the Danger Room and not out in the open. Good fortune for him, not so much for Jay.

Shiro couldn't go right away to check up on him. Not simply because Jay needed time to recuperate, and not because he'd had to "talk" to Cyclops, but because it wasn't safe. Had he not been relegated to the sub-basement until he could definitively demonstrate control again, he'd have locked up himself down there, anyway. Now, donned in his uniform to ensure he wasn't leaking any radiation or other harmful energies, he decided to begin making his amends. No one answered the door to the suite shared by Jay and Dani when he knocked, so he entered anyway and went to the door to Jay's room. "Jay, it's Shiro. Are you there? Can we please talk?"

After the talk with Garrison, Jay's bandages were fixed and he was sent back to his room where getting comfortable didn't exist. He'd tossed and turned as best as he could wihtout grimmicing and eventually sat up, had a battle with his bandages (and pulling them off) and given up. Rinse and repeat until Jay was on his 'intermission'. With his head driven into the pillow, faceplanted in an attempt to actually shut down, Jay fell into a doze for fifteen minutes before a knock at the door abruptly dropped him flat back into reality - one where he was still bandaged, in a mood and Shiro being the last person he wanted to face right then.

"Take a number."

He responded. That was a good enough sign. Shiro crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. "I need to apologize." Clearly. "I do not know what happened. I just . . . exploded. Please forgive me."

The apology was met with silence stretching over a long minute until some shuffling could be heard behind the door. Something banged, a curse followed and in another moment, the door was unlocked and opened. He gave the suit a once over and smiled. "If this is your idea of dressin' up and takin' me out to dinner, you're goin' about it all wrong."

"I somehow doubt that you are in any condition to go out, much less leave your room." This was the Jay whom Shiro knew, not the keening instrument of death. That brought some relief. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a million bucks," he said, stepping back a few paces and pulling at what was left of his hair. "Like the new look? Ah was goin' fer goth but pulled off emo instead."

Shiro's eyes narrowed and he fought back the impulse to slam Jay against the wall as punishment for his flippancy. The power indicator on his glove was already a third illuminated. "Is this game really necessary? I would prefer if we could skip the preamble."

Jay sat down on the bed, gesturing helplessly. "What do ya want from me Shiro? Ah itch like hell, okay? Ah'm tired n' cranky, is that better?"

I need to know if you hate me. "I am concerned for you. What I did . . . I do not expect you to forgive me. But if this is your attitude towards me then I am wasting my time even being here."

"What attitude is that?" he asked a little sharply. "You goated me on, nuked me, got me in shit and then you want me to shit sunshine n' rainbows when you say sorry. Ah said it's fine. Ah still don't know what a red neck Ja-gin or whatever it is you called me, is. Ah dunno what more you want?"

"I goaded you?" Shiro repeated in disbelief. "You are the one who challenged me, Guthrie. It was your poison wings that set me off. You were like another person, like something else took control over you."

"Yeah? What about you huh?" Jay stood up, towering over Shiro as he advanced. "Launchin' fire at me left n' right like Ah'm indestructable. You don't think that shit hurts? It kills."

"I . . ." Any other day and Shiro would have argued and pushed back at Jay (verbally, if not physically). But now, Jay loomed over him like a mummified angel of death, and considering the rage and animal instinct of that creature in the Danger Room, Shiro couldn't help but step back and look away like a submissive dog. He felt sick. "I am sorry. I was angry and blamed you and . . . I nearly killed someone for whom I care deeply. I am sorry."

His breath was hot on Shiro's cheek as he turned away, cletched jaw tightened on words he didn't need to say and the room darkened behind him, tension tightening down his back. Dominance took a step back when the apology came and the realization of Shiro's confession - when submission bent a knee. It was only then that Jay withdrew, realizing the darkness was not some storm that Ororo drew up but his own wings drawing up behind him. He exhaled and sighed, forcibly removing himself from Shiro's personal space and running a hand over his face, trying to cool off from the spell that he'd went under.

A weak, lopsided grin replaced the man beneath and he ran a hand through his hair, arching his wings away from Shiro, pretending they weren't there. "Sorry," he offered.

Colors swam before Shiro, pulsating in rhythm with the pounding in his head. He hadn't retreated from the wings, considering an onslaught to be worthy retribution and ready to accept his karmic punishment. He rubbed at his eyes when Jay pulled back and the colors faded, replaced by the young man with metal wings. "I want to atone for what I did. I must. Please tell me what to do."

He rubbed his forehead, taking another step back and turning around, heading for the window. "Ah don't want you to do anything," he said, pulling open the blindes and jerking the window a crack. No, a crack wasn't enough, he needed it all the way open. "Why you gotta do anything?"

Shiro blinked. "I have to," he responded, as if it were the most obvious answer. "When one does a horrible thing, one must make up for it. It is a matter of balance."

"Maybe--" he started and closed his eyes, elbows on windowsil and face in the palms of his hands. He dragged his fingers over his face, sighing as he did so and dropped his arms, casting a side long glance over his shoulder. "Maybe's sorry's enough, huh?"

"If it is by you." Though Shiro sounded doubtful, he'd accept anything Jay said. There was no alternative. "I ought to leave and let you rest."

"No, please, don't leave." He pushed up from the window sil and turned. "Don't leave. You wanna do somethin', don't leave. Everyone always leaves.."

It was almost frightening how much Shiro wanted to hear that. The pounding in his head was drowned out by the pounding in his chest. He carefully, hesitantly took Jay's hand in his, fingers intertwining, the only barrier between them the bandages wrapped around Jay and the glowing leather of Shiro's uniform. "Then I will stay."