Amanda, Manuel - Monday morning
Apr. 26th, 2004 10:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_daytripper posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsAfter this 'conversation' with Jubilee, Amanda goes to see Manuel for the first time since Mexico. He's no longer ZombieManuel, but it doesn't mean things are okay now. Set between these logs.
She probably shouldn't be doing this, Amanda realised as she hesitated outside Manuel's room. But she had to do something other than sit around waiting and trying not to poke at the link and ignoring the demands of her addiction. And it wasn't like she was going to _do_ anything, she was just going to talk to him, now that he was talking again. That was all. Maybe that would be enough. Setting her jaw, she knocked on the door.
Manuel was indeed inside, but with his iPod on, his music blaring into his ears. So he did not hear the knock upon his chamber door. Nor did he see the door move, as his eyes were closed as well.
He had his bloody earphones on again, she realised when her knock - and several more - went unanswered. So she opened the door, remembering it couldn't lock any more, and hoped she didn't scare the hell out of him. The room was a mess, as usual, and Manuel was lying on the unmade bed, music on, eyes closed, oblivious to the outside world. The link tugged at her again, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on keeping it calm. When it was - as much as she was able - she reached over and touched his shoulder. "Hey."
Manuel opened his eyes and looked at Amanda blankly. "Si?" he asked, then sat up in his bed. Then he -stared- at her like she was a bug pinned to a board, or like how a sculptor stares at a block of uncarved marble.
She flinched a little at the stare. It was like his eyes went straight through her. "I just came by t' see how you were doin'," she began, voice trembling despite herself. "If this is a bad time, I can go..."
Manuel continued to stare at her. "You remind me of someone." he mused. "I was trying to feel my music. Something that Nathan - do you know Nathan? - had told me about once. Please, come in, sit down. Can I get you something to drink?"
"Um, no, I'm fine." Amanda frowned. This was turning out to be a worse idea than she'd thought. "Manny, d'you know who I am?"
"My name is Manuel, not Manny. And no, actually, I don't. You look just like someone I cared for deeply, but she's gone now. Do you know Amanda Sefton?" he asked curiously.
"You cared...?" Amanda went still. "Um, yeah, I know her. Not as well as I thought I did." A wave of dizziness hit her, reminding her that perhaps she wasn't as recovered as she'd thought she was and the walk from her room to this one had been possibly a bit much after a week in bed. "D'you mind if I sit for a minute?" She didn't wait for his permission, half-dropping onto the edge of the bed. This was a _really_ bad idea.
"No, please, go ahead. Sit." he said, scooting over to make more room for Amanda to be seated on his bed. "I miss her." he told Amanda, shrugging his shoulders. "She died in Mexico. I felt her die." he said. "I never got the chance to tell her..." he started to say, then let that thought die. "So what is your name? You really do look like Amanda a _lot_. I would have thought she was the only person I'd ever meet with such tattooing. And you share her taste in piercings, too."
She couldn't listen to him talking about her like this - there was nothing for it but to tell him, see what his reaction was. "Amanda," she said, after taking a deep breath and looking him in the eyes. "Me name's Amanda Sefton an' I'm not fuckin' well dead. I'm sittin' right here in front of you."
Manuel blinked, then laughed. "You had me going there for a second. No, if you were Amanda, I would have felt it. We were linked, she and I. I feel nothing for you." he said. "Do not mock me, not in this. I have little love left."
"I'm not mockin', I'm tellin' the truth. You said it yerself, who else looks like me?" She pulled her shirt up a little, exposing the lines of scarring on her stomach. "Who else has this? It's _me_, Manny. Trust yer fuckin' eyes an' _look_ at me."
Manuel looked at Amanda again, in that bug-on-the-board way. "I am looking. And I have to say that I do _NOT_ appreciate the joke. Who are you, really? Jamie? Marie-Ange? This is in really poor taste. Bad enough that I have to be vilified, but now I must be mocked as well? And like this? Ohh, I get it now, the joke is on me. Let's all laugh at the empath who actually felt for someone. Well, hah bloody hah to -that-."
"Would Jamie or Frenchie know about the scars? Not bloody likely. Please, Manny, you have to believe it's me. I didn't die - I came fucking close, but I didn't die. Emma an' Pete came just in time." She reached over and lay her hand against his face, wincing as the link tried again to bridge the gap and failed. "The link's playin' tricks with yer head. I'm here, an' I'm all right. I didn't go anywhere."
"Sure they would. It's amazing what you can do with a ... what do they call them? Image inducer? Yes, those. We saw it on April the First, with Doug." He then pulled away from Amanda's touch, and came to his feet. "Get out before I throw you out. To come before me like this, in the form of someone I cared for who had _just died_, and then claim that she was still alive when I can _clearly_ sense that that is not the case? How stupid do you think I am? And if I find out who you really are, then I will _kill_ you for this insult - both to me and to her memory. Now _get out of my room_. Now." he spat out.
"You always did rely too much on yer fucking power," Amanda retorted, pushing herself up with effort. "So much you stopped usin' yer bloody brain." She stood in front of him, poking him in the chest to punctuate her words. "Jamie an' Marie-Ange don't fuckin' _know_ about the scars, so how would they be able t' reproduce 'em? An' it didn't occur t' you that Rack usin' the link to drain you as well as me might've done somethin' to it? An' if I was someone wearin' an' inducer, wouldn't you be able t' sense somethin', anythin'? The only thing that fuckin' well stopped me going after him when Pete killed him was you, an' I ain't bloody well gunna let you do this to yerself. Or to me."
Manuel laughed again, a bitter, self-mocking laugh. "Very nice work. You've done your homework well. Get. Out." He threw open the door to his room, and positioned his body so that he could hold it open with his torso. "Go on, go! Professor Xavier will be hearing of this little prank. And if he does not punish sufficiently, I will. GET OUT!" he screams, his eyes starting to brim over with hot tears.
Anger and frustration combined with the pounding of the link in her mind and boiled over. She bunched her fist, and swung at him in a clumsy hook punch that connected solidly with his jaw.
Manuel felt the punch hit, and he just _lost it_. He swung back, aiming a strong punch into her stomach to take her breath from her lungs.
She barely managed to cast a shielding spell in time to blunt the force of that punch, but the effort was too much, her power still too weak, and the second caught her squarely across the face. The blow knocked her to her hands and knees. Somehow she scrambled out of reach before he could hit her again.
"Do _not_ attack me again, or I _will_ kill you. Now get out of here, and maybe I won't report your assault upon my person." he spat out at Amanda, still holding the door open for her. "Get. Out."
Hand to the rapidly-swelling mark on her cheekbone, Amanda walked past him, looking up at him with haunted, desolate eyes as she did.
"You don't deserve to look like her. You're not fit to lick the scuffs off her Doc Martens." he said to Amanda's retreating back, before slamming the door closed behind her.
Rushing back to her room, Amanda searched blindly through her belongings with only one thing on her mind - stopping the pain. She found, tucked away forgotten in the pockets of her winter coat, the two good-luck charms she'd gotten from Patches that night. For a long moment she held them in her hand, holding her power in check by the barest of margins. Then, with a sob, she dropped them on the floor and crushed them underfoot. Not this way. Nate. She had to go find Nate and bring an end to this. _Now_.
She probably shouldn't be doing this, Amanda realised as she hesitated outside Manuel's room. But she had to do something other than sit around waiting and trying not to poke at the link and ignoring the demands of her addiction. And it wasn't like she was going to _do_ anything, she was just going to talk to him, now that he was talking again. That was all. Maybe that would be enough. Setting her jaw, she knocked on the door.
Manuel was indeed inside, but with his iPod on, his music blaring into his ears. So he did not hear the knock upon his chamber door. Nor did he see the door move, as his eyes were closed as well.
He had his bloody earphones on again, she realised when her knock - and several more - went unanswered. So she opened the door, remembering it couldn't lock any more, and hoped she didn't scare the hell out of him. The room was a mess, as usual, and Manuel was lying on the unmade bed, music on, eyes closed, oblivious to the outside world. The link tugged at her again, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on keeping it calm. When it was - as much as she was able - she reached over and touched his shoulder. "Hey."
Manuel opened his eyes and looked at Amanda blankly. "Si?" he asked, then sat up in his bed. Then he -stared- at her like she was a bug pinned to a board, or like how a sculptor stares at a block of uncarved marble.
She flinched a little at the stare. It was like his eyes went straight through her. "I just came by t' see how you were doin'," she began, voice trembling despite herself. "If this is a bad time, I can go..."
Manuel continued to stare at her. "You remind me of someone." he mused. "I was trying to feel my music. Something that Nathan - do you know Nathan? - had told me about once. Please, come in, sit down. Can I get you something to drink?"
"Um, no, I'm fine." Amanda frowned. This was turning out to be a worse idea than she'd thought. "Manny, d'you know who I am?"
"My name is Manuel, not Manny. And no, actually, I don't. You look just like someone I cared for deeply, but she's gone now. Do you know Amanda Sefton?" he asked curiously.
"You cared...?" Amanda went still. "Um, yeah, I know her. Not as well as I thought I did." A wave of dizziness hit her, reminding her that perhaps she wasn't as recovered as she'd thought she was and the walk from her room to this one had been possibly a bit much after a week in bed. "D'you mind if I sit for a minute?" She didn't wait for his permission, half-dropping onto the edge of the bed. This was a _really_ bad idea.
"No, please, go ahead. Sit." he said, scooting over to make more room for Amanda to be seated on his bed. "I miss her." he told Amanda, shrugging his shoulders. "She died in Mexico. I felt her die." he said. "I never got the chance to tell her..." he started to say, then let that thought die. "So what is your name? You really do look like Amanda a _lot_. I would have thought she was the only person I'd ever meet with such tattooing. And you share her taste in piercings, too."
She couldn't listen to him talking about her like this - there was nothing for it but to tell him, see what his reaction was. "Amanda," she said, after taking a deep breath and looking him in the eyes. "Me name's Amanda Sefton an' I'm not fuckin' well dead. I'm sittin' right here in front of you."
Manuel blinked, then laughed. "You had me going there for a second. No, if you were Amanda, I would have felt it. We were linked, she and I. I feel nothing for you." he said. "Do not mock me, not in this. I have little love left."
"I'm not mockin', I'm tellin' the truth. You said it yerself, who else looks like me?" She pulled her shirt up a little, exposing the lines of scarring on her stomach. "Who else has this? It's _me_, Manny. Trust yer fuckin' eyes an' _look_ at me."
Manuel looked at Amanda again, in that bug-on-the-board way. "I am looking. And I have to say that I do _NOT_ appreciate the joke. Who are you, really? Jamie? Marie-Ange? This is in really poor taste. Bad enough that I have to be vilified, but now I must be mocked as well? And like this? Ohh, I get it now, the joke is on me. Let's all laugh at the empath who actually felt for someone. Well, hah bloody hah to -that-."
"Would Jamie or Frenchie know about the scars? Not bloody likely. Please, Manny, you have to believe it's me. I didn't die - I came fucking close, but I didn't die. Emma an' Pete came just in time." She reached over and lay her hand against his face, wincing as the link tried again to bridge the gap and failed. "The link's playin' tricks with yer head. I'm here, an' I'm all right. I didn't go anywhere."
"Sure they would. It's amazing what you can do with a ... what do they call them? Image inducer? Yes, those. We saw it on April the First, with Doug." He then pulled away from Amanda's touch, and came to his feet. "Get out before I throw you out. To come before me like this, in the form of someone I cared for who had _just died_, and then claim that she was still alive when I can _clearly_ sense that that is not the case? How stupid do you think I am? And if I find out who you really are, then I will _kill_ you for this insult - both to me and to her memory. Now _get out of my room_. Now." he spat out.
"You always did rely too much on yer fucking power," Amanda retorted, pushing herself up with effort. "So much you stopped usin' yer bloody brain." She stood in front of him, poking him in the chest to punctuate her words. "Jamie an' Marie-Ange don't fuckin' _know_ about the scars, so how would they be able t' reproduce 'em? An' it didn't occur t' you that Rack usin' the link to drain you as well as me might've done somethin' to it? An' if I was someone wearin' an' inducer, wouldn't you be able t' sense somethin', anythin'? The only thing that fuckin' well stopped me going after him when Pete killed him was you, an' I ain't bloody well gunna let you do this to yerself. Or to me."
Manuel laughed again, a bitter, self-mocking laugh. "Very nice work. You've done your homework well. Get. Out." He threw open the door to his room, and positioned his body so that he could hold it open with his torso. "Go on, go! Professor Xavier will be hearing of this little prank. And if he does not punish sufficiently, I will. GET OUT!" he screams, his eyes starting to brim over with hot tears.
Anger and frustration combined with the pounding of the link in her mind and boiled over. She bunched her fist, and swung at him in a clumsy hook punch that connected solidly with his jaw.
Manuel felt the punch hit, and he just _lost it_. He swung back, aiming a strong punch into her stomach to take her breath from her lungs.
She barely managed to cast a shielding spell in time to blunt the force of that punch, but the effort was too much, her power still too weak, and the second caught her squarely across the face. The blow knocked her to her hands and knees. Somehow she scrambled out of reach before he could hit her again.
"Do _not_ attack me again, or I _will_ kill you. Now get out of here, and maybe I won't report your assault upon my person." he spat out at Amanda, still holding the door open for her. "Get. Out."
Hand to the rapidly-swelling mark on her cheekbone, Amanda walked past him, looking up at him with haunted, desolate eyes as she did.
"You don't deserve to look like her. You're not fit to lick the scuffs off her Doc Martens." he said to Amanda's retreating back, before slamming the door closed behind her.
Rushing back to her room, Amanda searched blindly through her belongings with only one thing on her mind - stopping the pain. She found, tucked away forgotten in the pockets of her winter coat, the two good-luck charms she'd gotten from Patches that night. For a long moment she held them in her hand, holding her power in check by the barest of margins. Then, with a sob, she dropped them on the floor and crushed them underfoot. Not this way. Nate. She had to go find Nate and bring an end to this. _Now_.
