Log: [Haller, Charles] Enough

[x-legion.livejournal.com]

A week after his experience in Meggan and Topaz's mind and a year after the end of the world, Haller decides he no longer has a place in the mansion -- and Charles draws the line.



Charles would be lying if he said he hadn't halfway been expecting Haller to declare that he was leaving. He had been waiting for it for months now, ever since Haller had come back. He'd just been waiting for an excuse.

Now, it appeared, he had one.

Charles took a long moment, sipping his tea before finally saying, "I see. And you feel this is best, I suppose."

Charles' son regarded him with too-pale eyes. There was no hint of emotion on his face, nor in his voice; he'd dropped the announcement into their afternoon tea as easily as a cube of sugar.

"You've already removed me from the team," Haller pointed out, "and I can't fill Jim's old role. Even on the astral plane my telepathy is barely functional. Throw in the hours I still need to log for my practicum and it just doesn't make sense to stay."

"And you haven't considered any reason why this might be a bad idea?" Charles returned, just as calmly. He knew walking Haller to the conclusion wasn't going to work this time. But he had to give him one chance.

Just one.

Haller nodded. "I know I won't be here if you need me, but I'll still be close enough to call if there's an emergency. I'll keep my promise."

"It's not about any promises, David." Charles' voice was still deceptively patient. "It's about where it's best and safest for you to be right now. And I think you and I both know that's not outside of the mansion."

Haller's expression didn't precisely flicker, but there was an odd shift behind his eyes. "I don't see any upside to staying in a place where I can't contribute," he said evenly. "I'm miles ahead of any telekinetic in the mansion in power and control. When it comes to safety, the mansion doesn't provide anything I can't do myself."

"Perhaps I worded that wrong," Charles said calmly, putting down his tea at last. "I don't believe you're in any danger. However, you've proven that you are a danger."

Under other circumstances, a statement like that from Charles would have come as a slap. Haller didn't so much as blink.

"I told you," said the telekinetic, voice still inflectionless, "my priority is to keep David and the people he cares about safe. The only ones I hurt are those who tried to hurt us first. I respect that you can't accept that behavior from an X-Man, but I won't apologize for protecting us."

"And I won't apologize for looking at the bigger picture," Charles returned. "You want to cut ties with everyone in the mansion, and that's not safe for you, or for anyone else. I can't allow you to leave with the risk that poses."

It was I can't allow you that did it. An invisible vise closed around Charles' body, locking his hands around the teacup and his arms to the desk.

His son stood.

"And what power, exactly, do you have to keep me here?" Haller asked.

The tea between Charles' hands began to bubble, heating of its own accord. Haller didn't even look at it. He only stared down at his helpless father, eyes cold.

"I could boil your blood with a thought," he said quietly. "And you think you can keep David safe?"

His telekinesis was strong, absolutely. But there was one thing Haller had forgotten, or at the very least was willfully not thinking about - his telepathy was almost nothing. Even with his diminished powers it was almost nothing to push past Haller's defenses and drag him onto the astral plane.

"Enough." His voice was stronger here.

The abrupt dislocation succeeded where words had failed. Haller whirled away from the void that was the fringes of his mind and rounded on the professor, his expressionless mask finally cracking with anger.

"Get out of my mind, Charles!"

"No." Charles, on the other hand, had adopted the expressionless mask Haller had abandoned. Staying calm at that moment was crucial. "It's time to stop running away, David."

Haller tried to shove Charles from his mind, but the other man was prepared -- the effort simply slid off him. Furious, he railed on the telepath.

"You're not doing this for him," Haller ground out. "You're doing this for yourself. As long as he's here you can tell yourself it makes up for a lifetime of putting this school and all your saintly works over your own son. As long as he's under your roof, looking to you for help, you can feel like a good father." Shaking, the young man fixed him with his bleached eyes. "You made promise after promise, but what has your help ever done for any of us?"

If the words had any effect on Charles - and they did - there was no outward show of it. He was lashing out, and Charles wasn't going to take the bait. He couldn't. Not if he wanted to accomplish anything here. "Is that what you think, then?" He asked calmly.

"How has being here helped us?" demanded Haller, sweeping an arm to the blackness around them. "You told him the mansion would be safe. Stable. We could get better, help some people. Now it's ten years later, and the world fell apart, and all the ties we made and all the good we did was for nothing."

"Is that so?" Again, not a real answer. But pushing Haller to feel was all Charles could anymore. It had been so long since he had allowed himself that luxury.

And it was time to put an end to that.

"Stop the Socratic method, Charles. At least try a technique you didn't teach us." Haller folded his arms in the darkness, the coldness returning to his voice. "Again, you've already deemed me unsuitable for the field. Even if I wasn't, there's no point staying when anything I do could be undone in an instant. There's more to the world than your mansion. It'll be more stable than anything you've ever given me."

"And this has nothing to do with what you experienced last week, I suppose," Charles asked, switching tracks, though his voice remained as calm as ever.

This got a response. The old scars on Haller's face grew a little bit fresher, a little bit more visible. Nonetheless, the psi refused to back down.

"Yes," Haller said, "being saved by Quentin Quire proved my point. I'm more a liability than an asset on the astral plane."

"And made you feel something," Charles returned bluntly.

The effect was immediate. The last vestiges of the anger Haller had been displaying vanished as the walls went back up, like a guilty child realizing he'd been caught out.

"I don't understand the obsession with what I feel," Haller said, composed once more. "You, Jean, Rachel. I don't care what I do or don't feel, but none of you can let it go."

"It's not what you feel. It's the lack of acknowledging it," Charles pointed out calmly. "As you've proven over and over, it's dangerous for you to not feel."

The younger man looked away. "When has feeling ever benefited David? You brought us to the mansion because you said he needed human connections. You said it was safe, that people here would understand. And he tried. He tried because he trusted you." Haller turned his eyes to Charles. "And then they were gone. Just like the people he thought were his parents. Just like the man who was his guardian. Feeling broke him. You knew that. And yet you put him back in the exact same position, with exactly the same result."

"Because that is a part of being human. And no matter how hard he tries, he can not run away from that. You can not run away from that. Not even now."

"Because you won't allow it." The composure was cracking again -- there was bitterness now. Haller put a fist to his forehead. "The first time we ever met you violated his mind. You swore you'd never do that to us again. Now here we are, and your story is still that it's for his own good."

"I suppose it would have been better to leave him in the coma, then," Charles said quietly, no hint of anger in his voice. "Just as I suppose now it would be better to leave you to this." He waved his hand at the darkness surrounding them.

"I don't--" Haller stopped, pressing his hands to his face. Rachel's words came back to him:

“Are you going to let that hole in your head consume you?”

"They all go." The words came out in a choke as the scars began to drip. "Every time I get close to someone they die. My parents and Uncle Andrew. Moira and Nate, and Cain, and Lorna and Jean and . . . Betsy . . . they all leave me behind." Haller dropped his hands to reveal the beginning of tears streaking the blood. He said, almost a plea: "Why can't you just let me be safe?"

He didn't know if Haller actually wanted an answer, so Charles didn't give him. Instead he just moved forward, gathering the man in his arms and pulling him into a tight hug.

It was, finally, too much. The stripped-down astral facade dissolved, leaving the likeness of the boy Charles had first twenty years ago. Clinging to Charles, he began to cry -- for all he'd lost, and all he could no longer deny.

"Dad, I'm sorry," David wept. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Charles just held the boy tight, letting out a shaking breath. "It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay, son. It's okay."

And in the astral void, the sun rose.