Haller & Cecilia | Medlab

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Haller and Cecilia finally meet on Wednesday evening.

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to force some kind of coherent thought as he made his way to the Medlab offices. He couldn't recall if Jean was on duty today. The thought of dealing with Amelia didn't appeal, mostly because it would require him to make the effort of explanation, and he suspected the caffeine keeping him functional was about to rebound and join forces with his fatigue-headache for a cruel betrayal.

It was quiet today. That was good, at least.

Cecilia looked up from her papers at the sound of footsteps. Thank God. She'd never needed an interruption more. At some point, her X-Corps reading material had gotten mixed up with the journal articles she'd been pulling, and she'd spent entirely too many minutes sorting through the pile. And she was still no closer to understanding how she'd staff a Central American health clinic or unlocking the waste of modern medicine. No wonder Matt was constantly telling her to go digital.

She blinked at the figure in her doorway, trying not to appear too eager about dealing with a potential patient. "Yes?"

Jim paused at the unfamiliar face, but this time memory came through. He reflected he really did need to start meeting newcomers before they'd spent months as established staff.

"Oh, Dr. Reyes," said the telepath with a tired smile. "Hello. Sorry, I don't think we've met yet -- I'm David Haller." Jim found himself extending a hand before his brain had time to second-guess whether the gesture was appropriate.

Ah, David Haller. Cecilia had read a few files when she started at Xavier's again, and that one had certainly stood out. She stood from her chair and shook his hand. "I don't know that we have, actually. A pleasure. So," she withdrew her hand and crossed her arms, "what brings you here?"

Cecilia was much younger than he'd expected; he judged they were maybe a year or two apart. Her professionalism, on the other hand, had the bullet-proof timelessness he associated with all medical personnel. "I wanted to see if I could get something for insomnia. PRN," Jim amended, "it comes and goes."

"Aha." That figured. The thing she'd hated most about being back at the school was feeling at times like a glorified pharmacist. "I'm not in the habit of just giving sleeping pills to anyone, I'm afraid, so you'll have to give me a minute." Cecilia moved to a nearby computer to try and pull his records up. "Any idea if you've ever been given anything that worked before?" Not that she wouldn't have to check anyway.

"Um, yeah. Clonazepam. I forget the dosage." There was nothing accusatory in her tone, but he had the distinct impression she'd had experienced with drug-seekers. Jim grimaced. "Sorry to ask. My doctor's out of town right now."

"Easy enough to look up." Cecilia looked at him for a second before smiling and going back to typing. "The problem might be finding it. This place was organized by McCoy the super-genius and a TK who can probably summon pills out of drawers or something or reads their minds or something." She shrugged casually as she stared at her computer screen. Her tone softened. "Just general trouble sleeping, then?"

"The usual. Brain not shutting down, intrusive thoughts when I try to sleep. That sort of thing. It happens when I have personal issues sometimes." Aware of the probable nature of what she was reading, Jim shook his head. "It's nothing serious. Considering a telepathic super-genius organized this place, 'serious' doesn't stay a secret from the Medlab for long." The last observation came out wearier than he'd meant.

"Gotcha." She scanned the screen. "Sometimes it's hard to turn the voice inside your head off," she remarked absentmindedly before realizing exactly what she'd said and turning a little red. No matter - she'd move forward. Cecilia swiveled around to face him on her stool, a knowing smile on her face. "Not a fan of having your mind invaded, I take it?"

"I'm used to it. But therapy's invasive enough even when your first case worker isn't one of the world's strongest telepaths. It's one of many reasons I try to keep my brain to myself." The corner of Jim's mouth quirked as he noticed the doctor's expression. "I'm guessing the feeling is mutual."

Cecilia tried to contain her disdain but managed only to keep from rolling her eyes. "Not my favorite thing in the world, no." She hopped off her chair and made her way to the medicine cabinets. "Still not great at thinking quietly, either. Mine is a knee-jerk mind, apparently, and I mentally shout my thoughts from an imaginary rooftop." Now she rolled her eyes. "Or something. Metaphors have never been my strong suit."

Jim snorted. "Some people just project more. Usually it's an emotional intensity thing. Sometimes just extreme focus. If you really want to know I could check, but I barely pick up people standing right next to me and most people prefer it stay that way. Myself included." Jim watched her select the key appropriate to the dispensary. "Did you get shielding lessons when you were here before? I'm not really clear how long you stayed . . ."

"In that case, I guess I am extremely intense." Cecilia looked over her shoulder as she unlocked the door and gave him a satisfied grin. "No shielding lessons, no. I was only here for a hot 45 seconds, honestly. Well, more like three or four months, but you get the idea. I was too—it was all too sudden, for me, I think. This was not the right place for me back then." She shrugged again. "How long have you been here, Mr. Haller?" He just did not seem like a David.

Jim rubbed the back of his head. "Good question. It's been a while. Since 2006 . . . christ, has it been eight years? That doesn't seem right." With a sigh, Jim let his hand drop and changed the subject before he could contemplate how much of his life had been spent at the School. "You left to join Doctors Without Borders, didn't you?"

"Not exactly. I mean, that happened, but there were a few years in between." She picked up a bottle, glanced at the label and frowned. "I left around the time the dragon hatched, spent a few months hanging out in Westchester and then flew across the country to do my own thing in San Diego. If residency counts as your own thing." She made a face to suggest how ludicrous the idea it was.

"Then a trauma fellowship in Philly, and finally, Doctors without Borders. Until they decided they had some borders. And now I here I am, I guess." She gestured around her.

"So why'd you come back?" Jim asked, his genuine curiosity bypassing any more tactful phrasing. He leaned against the wall, watching the slim woman's efficient, relaxed movements as she sorted through the Medlab's small dispensary. "I mean -- you said it wasn't the right place back then. I just wondered what changed. And no offense, but staff doctor seems sort of . . ." the telepath groped for a phrase other than 'beneath you', "well, it's not Doctors Without Borders or trauma work. Not consistently, anyway." Additionally, residents could utter the words "around the time the dragon hatched' in complete seriousness.

"Honestly?" Cecilia laughed. It had been long enough since her return that she'd forgotten which line was the easiest to use in situations like these, so maybe she'd be as close to honest as she could be. She turned to meet his gaze. He had nice eyes. "I'm not entirely sure. I mean, they flew us out of Honduras pretty quickly, and it's not like I had anywhere else to go. My parents are gone, my brother's in Afghanistan. I guess this is the closest thing I've got to a family home these days."

She shifted back to the dispensary. "Anyway, a better question is why I stayed. I thought this would only be temporary, but I guess every hospital in New York is in a tight budget situation at the moment. Hopefully things will shake out soon." She grabbed a bottle, studied it and smiled. "I think this place has a way of drawing you back, although I'm not convinced it's not Charles persuading every doctor in Manhattan not to hire me so that he can have a little more help around here. In any event, it won't last and eventually I'll put my pedigree to use."

For someone so direct, Jim was finding Cecilia strangely hard to read. You didn't specialize in trauma surgery or join an organization like Doctors Without Borders without significant personal drive. Even if it was intended to be temporary, settling into a job at a private school seemed out of character for someone with that kind of passion. There was no indication she was being dishonest, but he couldn't help but wonder if there was something she was downplaying -- or, perhaps, wasn't quite certain of herself. It was too early to draw many concrete conclusions, but Cecilia struck him as the type who'd mastered the art of transforming directness into a sophisticated means of deflection.

"I had a similar career trajectory, actually," the telepath confessed. He dropped his eyes and rubbed his lightly scarred right hand. "Well, minus the impressive pedigree, but as soon as I stopped being a patient here and Muir I tried to do some therapeutic work on my own. Not certified, but the volunteer version of what the professor helped me with -- psychic repair, counseling for powers trauma. Things they're still creating degrees for. I did all right, but I burned out. It drains you. Especially when you're on your own." Jim let his hand drop and gave Cecilia his own rueful smile. "After that, the professor's job offer was an easy sell. I didn't have anywhere else to go, either."

Cecilia nodded as she made her way back to her computer, bottle in hand. "And you think you'll stick around? I can't tell if you're the kind of person who likes all the chaos and the company that comes with this place, or if you're just resigned to it." Not that Cecilia knew which way she felt herself. It was nice to be around other people and let her shields down, so to speak, but certain aspects of the Xavier bubble still gave her pause. "I don't mean any offense by that," she added as an afterthought.

"None taken. I do like the job. There are things I wish the kids didn't have to deal with, but then, I also wish stuff that required the X-Men didn't happen to begin with." The lank man pushed away from the wall with a sheepish shrug. "And to be honest, for the first half of my life my telekinesis regularly sent me to emergency room. I can't say I've never gotten any satisfaction out of being able to use my powers for something tangible. I spent years in therapy just trying to live with them. Until I came here, anything more was never even an option." Jim gave her a crooked smile. "So yeah. Regardless of whether or not I'd choose the option over counseling, I appreciate that Xavier's gave it to me."

"Well, that's good to hear." Cecilia returned his smile with a sincere one of her own. She typed in some notes, glancing between the bottle and the computer before opening it up and taking out a tablet. She returned the pills to the dispensary and then walked back to Haller. "Don't drink, don't drive, don't Danger Room. I'm sure you know the drill." She handed him the pill. "Right, water."

Cecilia turned to get him a small Dixie Cup, thinking about what he said. "I think the people are keeping me here right now," she admitted after a little silence. "I don't know how tenable that is. I imagine eventually I'll get antsy, and I did okay on my own, mostly."

Jim downed the clonazepam and water with an arched eyebrow. He was still getting a read on her, but from Cecilia "mostly" somehow came across as a substantial admission.

"The people are what keep me here," Jim admitted, "but for me that's not a bad thing. When you have certain issues it's a relief to find people who can relate. Same principle that brings ex-pats together, probably. I burned out because I didn't have that before. I do some work in the city, too, but there's a reason I hang around the school. I recommend everyone give being anchored a shot at least once in their lives, even if it's at Xavier's."

He balled up the empty cup and overhanded it into a nearby recycling bin before returning his odd-colored eyes to the doctor, his smile now faintly teasing. "Besides, you escaped before. If worse comes to worse I'm sure you remember the route."

"Well, sure, although I didn't leave in the most dignified way last time." Cecilia bit her lip. "I mean, I kind of did, until I didn't. It's complicated." She didn't think it was, but she also didn't think it was important to get into her eventual disavowal of almost all things mutant with a relative stranger. Although she had a feeling he'd understand - something about him seemed knowing. Maybe it was his eyes.

Her body language indicated she was certainly holding back now, but also that she wasn't entirely comfortable with the subject. Despite his curiosity, this was probably something best pursued when she was more comfortable -- and when he hadn't just taken a significant tranquilizer. The time it would probably take to feel out the larger explanation would almost certainly coincide with the time it took for the clonazepam to take effect.

"You weren't expelled and I haven't heard about you setting fire to to anything expensive, so it can't have been too bad." Jim snorted, shaking his head. "Besides, this place is nothing if not forgiving. There are people on something like their fourth chance, and you haven't even had a 'gone evil or crazy' incident. That's more than I can say." He held out his hand once more. "Either way, it's nice to meet you. I'll try not to make too many demands."

"Demand away." Cecilia shook his hand. Actually, she was dying to know whether he meant he'd gone evil, crazy or both, but there'd be plenty of time for that. Odds were good she'd get a better story if she asked someone else anyway - especially if it was Jean. Or better yet, Wade, who had never held gossip back yet. "It was really a pleasure. You're not like everyone else around here." She shrugged as she withdrew her hand. "I like that."

Jim smiled as he released her hand. "What, in that my insanity is medically documented rather than hidden away?" he asked.

"Nope." Cecilia smirked, hoping she didn't look too impertinent. "In that you're willing to admit it exists."