xp_logs | Hope & David Haller

Everyone has a breaking point. Even proper young ladies like Hope...

Jim surreptitiously pressed a post-it requesting privacy to the outside of the teacher's lounge before closing the door. He had a feeling this was going to be delicate, but also that the formality of his office would work against him. It had been the best compromise he could think of.

The counselor returned to the microwave, removed two mugs of steeping tea, and seated himself at the table. One mug he kept to himself. The other he set in front of the lounge's other occupant.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

Fingers wrapped securely around the mug and Hope let the warmth seep into her hands before taking a sip. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the pattern of her skirt and a faint blush covered her cheeks as she replied: "Thank you, Mr. Haller. I am feeling much better."

Well... as much improved as you could feel when the school counselor found you in the middle of the hallway while you are stuck outside your body once more and needing quite a bit of help to get back in. It was only lucky almost everybody was in class.

Jim gave the girl an encouraging smile as he toyed with his tea bag. "I'm glad the periods of disorientation are lessening, at least. Shall we go back over what happened?" It was a familiar question, often repeated in an effort to increase Hope's awareness of what triggered her powers. It was also one she had proven skillful at evading.

This couldn't go on for much longer. The spells were increasing in frequency, and the slender progress she'd made in returning to her body was rendering only erratic results. He had no doubt she told him the truth during these conversations, but they were only little ones. The big one was still somewhere under the surface.

"Of course, sir." Hope gave a nod. They had done this quite a few times already, especially when she has started ghosting out in class so much. But she had kept quiet about what she suspected were the true reasons why, only giving the littlest bits she could manage. Busy with classes, new hobbies she wanted to master, etc. Her mother she had hardly mentioned.

She kept her eyes firmly on the mug while she continued. "I was walking through the hallway and suddenly it happened. I did not even feel lightheaded or distant as often happens lately."

Jim nodded. "Did you feel anything else physically? Shortness of breath, tightness in your chest, anything odd?"

After a short pause gave a short nod. "I felt like I could hardly breath and my heart was pounding." Hope explained in a low voice. "Is that what you mean, sir?"

"Yes, like that." Jim tilted his head to try and catch the girl's downcast eye. "It's okay. While I'm not a doctor, stress has been one of the common triggers for your manifestations. The symptoms you describe are not unusual in cases of anxiety." He didn't want to call it a panic attack; he feared the label might make Hope feel she was even more of a nuisance to those around her. Still, the fact the emotional tension was escalating into physical reactions was worrying. "May I ask -- can you go back with me to describe to me your morning? I would like to know some background, if I could."

"I can do that." Hope nodded again. This was also something they had done a few times before, trying to figure out her the factors that really caused her stress. "It was a fairly normal morning though, Mr. Haller. Waking up, breakfast and then I had French class. We improved on my conversation skills and further nothing special happened. During the break afterwards I retrieved my mail..." Hope's voice shook here for a bit and her hands tightened even more around her mug, her knuckles turning white.

"Hope?" Jim kept his voice gentle, trying to offer her an anchor in the present. "You seem upset. It's okay -- take a deep breath. Can you tell me, was it something in the mail?"

It was quiet for a for a few moments while Hope took a few deep breaths. "There was envelope from my mother, sir." She finally explained. Her voice was still shaking and as soon as she finished her words, a small sob escaped from her lips.

"Hope. Hey, it's okay." The counselor reached across the table to touch her shoulder, now more concerned by the girl's reaction than he was by her personal space. Hope was not known for being demonstrative. Whatever could bring her to the edge of tears in front of another person, especially a staff member, was serious.

"Take your time," he continued, keeping his hand on her trembling arm. "Don't worry about ghosting out. If it happens, it happens. Can you tell me what was in the envelope?"

The unexpected touch on her arm startled Hope just a little and her head shot up, her glistering eyes finally meeting the eyes of the man across her. The look in them was gentle though... not the condemnation she had somehow expected. "I... I..." A few tears trailed down her face as another soft sob made it way out.

Hope finally let go from the tea mug she had been clamping down on as if it was an anchor. With one hand she quickly swiped away the tears that continued to escape while she used the other one to grab the envelop that was tightly folded in her pocket. She quickly withdrew it and pushed it over the table. That done she buried her face in her hands as her body shuddered, crying now.

Jim gave her arm one final squeeze before releasing it, then took the envelope. It contained a glossy pamphlet and a letter from Hope's mother.

As he skimmed the letter Jim's forehead began to crease. Catherine Abbot's elegant handwriting addressed her concerns that her daughter was not making the expected progress, that in her estimation Xavier's did not present an appropriate environment to cultivate the skills a young woman such as herself required, and that a place had been found for her at Switzerland's respectable Institut Villa Pierrefeu, information enclosed.

A very brief perusal of the pamphlet confirmed to him what Maddie's email had complained of: multiple courses in etiquette, cooking, decoration, and other traditionally feminine pursuits. What academic achievements it boasted, such as languages, seemed intended to further social functions. Carefully, Jim set the letter and pamphlet aside and returned his attention to the tearful girl.

"I see." He touched her again on the shoulder, just enough to get her attention. "Did she ask if this was what you wanted?" Jim inquired.

"She... she is my mother, sir..." Hope managed to say when she managed to control her sobs a little. It was clear enough to her. There was very little a child could do if a parent made decision for them, especially if it was for their own good. "She chooses this for my own good."

Whose good? Jack thought sourly, but Jim didn't let it into his expression. "I'm sure she believes that," he said aloud. "But your mother isn't here with you. She doesn't know what you're going through. And . . . I mean no disrespect, but it doesn't seem fair that there's no discussion of what you think would be best."

A soft sigh escaped Hope. "It makes no difference, sir." She explained softly. "If my parents choose to remove me... I cannot stop them, so it does not matter what I believe to best. All I know is that they wish to do right by me." A few tears still escaped her eyes, but at least she had calmed down enough now she could talk. "As a good daughter I respect and appreciate that..."

"But how can they do right by you if they aren't coming from an informed position?" Jim pointed out. He lay a hand on the envelope. "All right. Just for the moment -- put all this aside. What do you want? Is leaving what you want to do?"

It remained quiet for a very long time. "No..." Came the quiet voice finally. "I wish to stay. It has started to feel like... home a little... But continuing on like the last few weeks is not going to work either... So perhaps it's better to go to Switzerland, where I have the space to develop my skills." The last few words though sounded like Hope was trying convince herself.

"But you want to stay," Jim repeated, unwilling to let her distance herself from the issue. He hesitated for a moment before continuing; this was more than he wanted to push her, but there might be no other time.

"The difficulty with your powers these last few weeks . . . I think it's been happening because you're very unhappy. I think you've been trying to be brave and respectful for your parents' sake, to handle the feelings on your own, but they keep building. The spells are worse because you're carrying everything here." The telepath touched his own sternum and watched her expression carefully. "Are you unhappy, Hope?"

The sobs she had been keeping in successfully almost immediately escaped again, Hope's shoulders shocking at the force of them. In between sobs she managed to get out though: "I... I... I tried to be... to be content with... what... I have."

The counselor took a few napkins from the dispenser and handed them over to the girl, and waited until the sobs had subsided to continue.

"As long as you're a student here it's our responsibility to take care of you," Jim said. "I don't want to presume. If you believe you'll be happier somewhere else, you'll have our full support. But if you want to stay -- we can speak to your mother on your behalf." He gave her a crooked smile. "It's not just your power issues. We want you to be happy. If there's anything we can do to help that, we will."

Hope listened quiet, nodding in places. "I wish to stay... But I cannot do it, Mr. Haller... The only way I could envision my mother allowing me to stay is if I am able to complete both my work here from Xavier and what additional work my mother requires..." Her voice trailed off again, but she took a deep breath and continued...

"I cannot maintain my GPA, do my homework, train my powers, violin lessons and daily practice, work on my embroidery and calligraphy an hour each every day, do long distance courses on both Interior Decoration and Household Accounts and read to broaden my mind. I am afraid that with each thing I do manage to add, something new and essential will come up."

And listen to daily lectures of various lengths on the phone, but she did not say that out loud.

"That can be addressed. We do have some concerns about your course-load that I believe should be brought to your mother's attention." It certainly needed to be discussed, he thought. Stress of this level wasn't healthy even for those who overachieved by choice. It was hard to tell how many of the activities Hope actually liked and what she merely tolerated.

His smile turned reassuring, and slightly wry. "I know your mother has high expectations for you, but I'm sure Professor Xavier will be happy to explain to her the benefit of allowing you a little more latitude. He has been running a prestigious school for a very long time, after all." And he was much, much less likely to set anyone on fire. Charles would know the right noises to make. He had the practice and the patience -- and maybe, Jim hoped, enough social and financial cachet to sway Hope's mother.

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't worry about it." Jim flashed her another smile, this time much warmer. "By the way, I'm not sure you realize the significance of this, but you haven't ghosted out during this conversation."

"I... I haven't?" Surprise and then a secret delight quickly flashed through her eyes. "How did I do that?" She wondered out loud.

Still smiling, the counselor gave her a half-shrug. "I know it's counter-intuitive, but sometimes letting the emotions out instead of keeping them bottled actually helps. Especially if you've been holding things back for a while. The body's been so tense for so long that release is actually relief." Particularly if what he suspected of Hope's mother was the case. He knew from Maddie the woman called frequently. He also knew Catherine's views of mutation were somewhat less than enlightened. Along with her opinions on with what was appropriate for a woman of Hope's status -- or what she hoped that status might one day be -- the pressure on Hope was much more than simple coursework.

It wasn't a subject he dared broach right now, though. It had been difficult enough for the girl to admit that, just maybe, there was something she wanted. Confronting her with the substance of her mother's careless prejudice and social climbing might make her shut down entirely. For now, it would be enough to let her know her opinion mattered and give her a little relief. And, for Catherine, a very diplomatic talking-to.

"I'm excusing you from the rest of your classes today," Jim said, and raised a hand to forestall any protest. "I know it wasn't planned, but you've still made substantial progress with your powers. It's a draining experience, and I want you to take the day off. I'll speak to the professor and we'll work something out. Okay?"

"Yes sir." Hope nodded, her mind already racing... Despite the relief from class, should she still do her embroidery and other things? Or just include that with the classes and just saying that she could not? "Thank you, Mr. Haller."

"It's all right." Jim rose, his undrained mug in his hand. "I'll let the staff know. And please -- only things you find relaxing today. You may be a little shaky still, so just take it easy, okay?"

"I will, Mr. Haller." Hope also stood up, smoothing out her skirt as she rose. "Again, thank you for your assistance." She quickly gathered her bag and waited for the counselor to move.

"You're very welcome," Jim said, and held the door for her as she left.

Your mother, however, is not. Professor, do you have a moment . . ?