xp_logs | Artie and Mr Haller, Friday morning

The aftermath of some decisions needs to be discussed

Artie knocked on the door to Mr Haller's office and let himself in. "Hey, Mr Haller. I know you wanted to talk to me? About my ... mother and everything and the call my other school gave you this morning?" he said, relieved to be able sign to someone again, rather than having to stuff around with floating text or the speech synthesizer. "But can you like, maybe, sort of, keep out of my head for now? I really don't want people in there right now."

Jim lowered his pen and raised an eyebrow at the boy. The request was unusual, not to mention potentially problematic; Jim's ASL vocabulary was not exhaustive. Still, he understood why Artie might want some control in his life right now. The boy's lip and forehead were still scabbed . . . and that was just from his roommate.

"Okay," the telepath replied, motioning Artie over to a chair, "just go slow for me. And . . . yeah." Jim set down his pen and pushed his chair back from his desk. "I'm guessing the one issue is connected to the other -- Annalee and your absences, I mean. Right?"

"Thanks. And, yeah, of course they were. I mean, seriously, do you think I'd like, only try to get to know my mom on Saturday afternoons or something? Yeah, no." Artie took his seat, one leg jiggling up and down slightly.

"No, but it'd have been nice to tell us you were doing it at all." Jim rubbed his forehead. Even suspecting the likely answers, he had to ask. "Artie, you should've said something. I understand there was other stuff going on, but . . . she raised you. Did you really think we wouldn't get that?"

"I don't know. She lived in the sewers. She's a Morlock. You'd never have just let me go down there and visit her. You know that." He shrugged.

The counselor looked at Artie through the fingers of one hand. "For your mother? We could've worked something out, even if she didn't want to come up to the surface." Jim lowered his hand, his forehead creased. "Artie . . . really, why didn't you just tell us? I know things started coming back a while ago -- are you okay?" How are you handling that? he wanted to say. Are you handling it at all?

"Yeah. Sure." Because it wasn't safe here and if he'd mentioned things, maybe they'd have found Annalee, too, next time things went to shit. Except, really, how unsafe was it? "I didn't think it was safe to mention her. I mean, what if the next time someone came after one of us, they went for our families, instead? It's not like all the Morlocks haven't already died once or anything. I just wanted to keep her safe. And then you bastards put her in jail."

"I know," Jim said, allowing his unhappiness with that decision to show, "but we didn't have a choice. She kidnapped people and she used her powers to do it. She didn't mean any harm, but that almost makes it worse. She was taking away free will and she didn't even realize it." The older man ran a hand through his hair. "I don't like the idea of her in jail either, but if she goes to an institution . . . I think she needs the help, and someplace where she can actually live instead of just survive."

Artie sighed. "I know. I know. But it's still not fair."

"For someone like her . . . no, not really. But for now, it's all we have to work with." Jim pulled on his face with one hand, wondering if he should keep pushing. Artie had never been the most trusting, but lately that aspect of his personality had become more pronounced. Maybe Annalee had had something to do with it, but he didn't think she was solely to blame. It was hard to imagine it wasn't also connected to Artie recovering his memories -- Jim knew first-hand that was enough to unbalance anyone.

With a sigh, the telepath put his hands on his desk and changed the subject. "You did okay here, but the Manhattan School said you failed three classes," he said, glancing at the note he'd taken that morning. "If you want to pass you're going to have to do summer school."

Artie glared, as relieved as Mr Haller seemed to be about the change of topic. "That's not fair. They're horrible there. I just did them a freaking public service by stopping going. I mean, I'm just the mutie freak that gets in fights there, remember? So why the crap do I have to take summer school. It's bullshit."

"The same reason you started going there in the first place: if you want to continue with sign, your options are limited." Jim leaned away from his desk again. "You want to leave here when you're eighteen, that's your call -- so's dropping classes at the Manhattan school. But at least give it a few days before you decide whether you want to throw away all the work you did there." He thought, but didn't say, And here, too.

"Go to hell, Mr Haller. I just don't care right now. Just go to hell." And with that, Artie stood and left the room. The door slammed behind him.