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xp_logsShatterstar and Cyndi have some dumb teenager fun by the lake until Cyndi explains her system's powers.
Shatterstar had decided to do his training exercise outside. If anyone asked, it was because it was too nice of a day to stay cooped up inside. In actuality, he knew he probably shouldn't be doing what he was doing and didn't want Haller or Theresa to catch him and reprimand him. He was supposed to be taking it easy after his powers burned his arms again the other day when training with his powers. Currently, he was doing push ups by the lake, ignoring the pain and strain.
Out of nowhere a bucket's worth of water cascaded over Shatterstar's head as a high-pitched voice barked:
"'Scuse me, what did they tell you about aftercare?"
Haller was standing a short distance away, hands on his hips and one foot tapping. His eyes were a vibrant green. There was no bucket in sight.
"Literally, there was one rule," said Cyndi, "and that's 'don't be a dumbass'."
Shatterstar shot up like a rocket, shaking the water off of himself like a dog. He scowled at Haller, taking a minute to try to figure out who he was speaking to. He recognized this wasn't Jim and he didn't think it was the cowboy either. He crossed his own arms, giving her a hard stare.
"I wasn't being a dumbass," he defended himself. "I wasn't lifting anything."
Cyndi flicked her fingers against her temple. "I know you know how gravity works. You better hope we don't snitch or the redhead's going to tie you to a bed with cosy blankets and make you rest." She gave him a broad grin. "You can see it in her eyes. She's a nurturer."
Somewhere in the back of her mind Jim pinched the bridge of his nose.
Oh she would not tell Theresa on him. Shatterstar didn't know what it was about... (Cyndi was her name right?) her but he stalked over to her and tossed her in a fireman carry over his shoulders. Haller weighed much too little for a man of their height, but Shatterstar couldn't judge. Thankfully, they were right next to the lake so it was easy to dump her in, revenge for being soaked on his own. Did she have any idea how long it took for his hair to dry?
"You won't tell her."
Cyndi squawked as she hit the water. Jack could've stopped it, but this kid wasn't an actual threat and her own telekinesis couldn't move anything bigger than a molecule. She was still in the shallows, but somehow that was worse. The impact had stirred up so much silt she could no longer see the bottom, and based on the slime under her hands she was positive she didn't want to. "Ohhh, you little--" Cyndi sputtered, struggling to her feet. Her clothes now weighed twice as much and were covered in a disgusting greenish brown mud. She swiped a damp strand of black hair from her eyes and smiled again, this time with a hint of malice.
"Okay, you wanna play dumbass games? You win the dumbass prize."
Jim found an imaginary wall to bang his head against.
Cyndi cracked her knuckles. Tendrils of water rose from the lake, twisting like ribbons of diamonds in the sun, and struck Shatterstar from five different angles.
If he was anyone else he would have stumbled, but instead Shatterstar jumped from foot to foot, soaking even more wet. Now even his pants were wet too, great. At least he wasn't covered in mud.
(At least she was only using water).
"I am still standing and you are in the lake. Who has the dumbass prize?" He said, smiling a little bit.
For an instant she was tempted to set his head of luxurious hair on fire just to teach him a lesson, but remembered what Jim had seen the first time Shatterstar had seen them use fire. She didn't know what that was about, but they didn't need it to happen again. Instead she trudged to the shore, mire sucking at her shoes the entire time. She sloshed back onto land and grinned at him. She couldn't move anything heavier than a molecule, but she could move a lot.
Water streamed forward to encircle the young mutant in a shimmering cocoon. It stopped just an inch or two from his skin: nothing that would impede his breathing, but with no way out but the extremely undignified one of "through".
"Actually, now you're the one in the lake," Cyndi said, pretending to inspect her nails. Her nailbeds were black with lake sludge. She looked up into the star-shaped birthmark with mock-innocence. "Not touching, can't get mad."
Shatterstar felt a buzzing and a growing pressure as he was encircled by the water. Maybe he deserved it for dunking her in the water, but he did not like being wet. He narrowed his eyes at her widened his hands at his sides and started humming like Terry had showed him the other day.
The water whirlpool burst apart with only some of it splashing over his shoes and legs, the high-pitched whine of his powers breaking through as the water fell like a water balloon.
It had burned his arms again, but no worse than he had already burned them. Shatterstar hadn't even really thought it would work, he was just mad and felt it coming anyways.
He stalked towards her through the puddles on the ground. "Didn't touch, so you can't get mad," he said, echoing her.
Cyndi huffed. "Fiiiine. I think we both made our point." She recognized a potential war of attrition when she saw it, and besides, Shatterstar had just used his powers, and she was not going to be responsible for dragging him back to the mansion if he fell over. If Terry found out Haller had goaded him they would both be in trouble."Truce?" she offered. She scraped more wet hair away from her face and toyed with some of the droplets she'd caught when Shatterstar had broken the construct, whirling them around like a constellation of dewdrops just to remind him future soakings were still an option.
Shatterstar could feel the headache coming , so he nodded. He peeled off his wet shirt and tossed it to her. "For the mud on your face. Truce." He may be wet with lake water but at least he wasn't muddy. He inspected his arms- they had been mostly healed from the other day which is why he had decided to push it in the first place but they looked like they were badly sunburned again, peeling a little. Honestly, the fact he was wet probably made it hurt less.
"Thanks," Cyndi said, even though the shirt was definitely just as wet with sweat as it was with water. It was the thought that counted, right? She swiped it over her face, then gestured toward him with the damp wad. "Yo, let's get your arms cleaned up. You look like stuck them in a deep fryer."
"They aren't that bad," he disagreed. Shatterstar had never seen a deep fryer burn, but it felt and looked to him more like a bad sunburn. The type that might scab over when it healed, but with his quick healing it would be over within a day or two.
Still, he started walking back towards the school. Cyndi might not be the doctor, but she shared a body with one so she probably had a point. (Shatterstar still didn't understand that Haller wasn't actually a doctor.)
"Nah, man, trust me, you want to keep that shit clean. One time I burned myself and ended up getting this gnarly infection so they basically tied me to a bed and pumped us full of IV antibiotics for a couple days. It's a super boring time. Do not recommend." Cyndi jogged a little to catch up with him. Her shoes still squelched when she walked, giving her steps an uncomfortably liquid emphasis. You could put shoes in a dryer, right? Whatever, that was a Jim problem.
Shatterstar had to admit that sounded dreadfully boring, but what his ears focused on was that even the one with the fire could get burned. He had seen Haller's burn scars before, but had somehow assumed that had been different. "Take care of your own burns better, then," he responded. He looked at his arms again. The worst of it was on his forearms, giving him the appearance of a farmer's tan. It was already peeling. Cyndi had a point, even if he didn't want to listen to it.
"Well yeah, obviously I did after that," the alter snorted. She held the porch door open for Shatterstar with one hand while she bent down to start tugging at the edge of the one sodden shoe with the other. "But for real, it's solid advice. Like, I think people forget here, but some of us got more to worry about than breaking furniture when we're training. I heard there's a guy here who just walks around melting doorknobs or whatever without needing skin grafts and it's like, wow, must be nice."
Shatterstar nodded in agreement. Even when his powers didn't burn him, they would exhaust him. He had fainted before from it- or at least he was pretty sure that had been from using powers. He stood against the porch door, holding it open for her as she took her shoes off. "Can I ask a personal question?" he asked.
Cyndi finally managed to wrench a shoe free and tossed it to the far end of the porch, where it splatted. "Sure. Do I look like somebody who gives a crap about secrets?"
She did not. But Shatterstar had been around Haller enough to know that Jim did. "Is it just you and Jim who get hurt? Or the cowboy too?" He didn't actually remember Jack's name, or anyone else in Haller's system.
"Oh, Jack?" Cyndi discarded the other shoe and peeled off her socks altogether. "Jack's specialty is like, not getting hurt. Shields, catching bullets, crap like that. But back when David was way crazier and there were more of us who had the telekinesis this poltergeist stuff happened sometimes if we were having a little moment. Like, everything in the room flying around and hitting people, and sometimes those people were us. I wouldn't call Jack like, amazing or anything, but it was never out of control like that for him." Declining to mention the incidents where Jack had used it in acts of intentional self-harm wasn't keeping secrets, she reasoned, just not relevant to the discussion.
"Cowboys are known for their control with shots, so that makes sense," Shatterstar said, thinking of all the westerns he had seen in his life. He didn't care much for the genre, but he found he came back to the concept often, especially from documentaries. They were the warriors of American culture after all. And even though he had only met Jack once, he could tell he was a cowboy. "Also, don't you do telekinesis? With the water?"
Cyndi jerked her head towards the door, urging him to follow her inside. "Oh yeah, but I can only move small stuff. Like, molecule-small. I can just move a ton of it at once. Jack can handle big dangerous shit, but he's better if he can focus on one thing at a time." She twirled the damp socks as she walked, windmilling drops of lakewater onto the furniture. "Jimmy kinda splits the difference with attention span, but he only works with minds, not stuff that actually matters."
Shatterstar stopped from where he had been following her, grabbing her wrist on instinct to get her to stop too. He he looked at her it was without any of the lightheartedness the rest of this interaction had held. He was taking advantage of all his height and the intensity his birthmark gave his face. "He does what?" he asked her in a cold voice as he let go of her. Any mental defenses he had slammed up in his anger. He should have known, he should have recognized it.
He should have been able to recognize a telepath.
Shatterstar knew he shouldn't be mad at Cyndi, she was the one who told him and hadn't been the one keeping secrets, but that didn't matter. She was in front of him, so she was getting the brunt of it.
He didn't want other people in his mind ever again. It wasn't safe. Even more than that he thought he could trust Jim, relatively at least, but he had been lying to him.
Cyndi's eyebrows shot up. Did this kid have experience with telepaths? Usually that only happened to people who were being liberated from sketchy off-the-books government programs, but presumably there were other, non-traumatic situations you could meet them through.
Or maybe not, judging from Shatterstar's reaction.
"Oh wow . . . did he forget to say? Wow." Cyndi didn't bother trying to shake the boy off; she was busy giving Jim the spiritual version of a disbelieving stare. You gonna make me fix this mess for you, too? She turned her attention back to the teen. "Okay, first of all, our bad. There was a lot going on, and it legit slipped his mind. He doesn't use it unless the other person says it's okay. THAT SAID-" and this was directed just as much as Jim as it was at Shatterstar, "it's a super shitty thing to spring on you. I'm sorry."
It wasn't that Shatterstar's experience with telepaths in particular were bad- he had loved his aunt more than he now knew how to verbalize. The problem was with every other person who had ever tried to get into his head the traditional way. The problem was not being able to trust your own mind, not being able to have anything private. The problem was the security risk.
It was hard enough knowing he shared his mind. And he didn't believe what Cyndi said about Jim not snooping. Maybe it said more about him, but if he was in Jim's position he would pry, if just because his paranoia wouldn't let him do otherwise. Paranoia was the problem. People would know, Jim would know how to hurt him, how to hurt Benjamin. And Shatterstar could not allow that. It was his job to protect them, protect them from everything.
"Get away from me," he hissed at Cyndi, or Jim, or whoever else might be listening to him. He didn't want to turn his back on them, but it didn't matter, did it? They could get the drop on him anyways- Cyndi had all but said Jim was good with minds. (Aunt Ginny had only been able to read surface thoughts, nothing hidden or deep and dark). He couldn't trust them facing them or not. He stalked off to his room, even though he doubted distance would help.
Jim talks to Shatterstar to apologize for not warning him about his teleapthy and to to create a plan going forward. TW: Brief self harm/harmful self soothing
It was some hours before Jim sought out Shatterstar's room. Partly to clean up, partly to collect himself, and partly because it had taken that long for Cyndi to stop telling him he deserved to get punched in the dick.
On the level, there are worse outcomes.
Jim sighed and knocked on the door.
"Shatterstar? Are you in there?"
Shatterstar had showered and even put aloe on his burns like he was supposed to and had spent the past few hours trying not to dissociate from anger and form a plan. Of the mutants he had known in his life, two of them were telepaths, which meant there could be more here. He had sort of been starting to like it here, but his fear responses were telling him to get away from here, get away from this place that was forcing him into a vulnerable position.
He wrenched the door open before mostly closing it, just enough for Jim to see his eyes. "You lied to me," He said quietly. "To us," he added because there was no reason to beat around the bush. He had thought Jim would understand. He thought he at least deserved a warning.
Jim met Shatterstar's hard, distrustful gaze through the crack. He couldn't fault this response. He didn't know what the young man's history might be, but he could make an educated guess based on his own.
"It's worse," Jim said at last. "I forgot. It was negligent of me not to make it clear from the start. I owe you an apology. You deserved to go into this on equal footing."
He was still so angry he almost slammed the door in Jim's face. Instead he kept his hand gripped tight around the doorknob. "Start apologizing." Saying you owed someone an apology was not an apology. An apology was the actions you took to make up for something.
The worst part of being angry at Jim is was that he wasn't just angry at Jim. He was angry at everyone who had ever been negligent to him. Shatterstar had faced both negligence and violence in his life and he had preferred the violence. The violence was something he felt he could fight against, and something he could respond to. It was something he knew how to protect Benjamin from.
Negligence was a subtler evil. It didn't matter what he did to try to fight against it.
"I'm sorry." He didn't try to equivocate. What did it matter to Shatterstar why it had happened? The only thing that counted was the result. Jim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "The one thing I can promise you is that I did not and will not look at your thoughts. One of the people who treated me could do that, too. It helped sometimes, but . . ." there was a twitch of something across his face, then his expression smoothed again. He shook his head. "I made a decision never to use mine like that. No one has the right to see us like that unless we want them to."
He started to accuse Jim of lying to him, but reading his expression he had a feeling that Jim wasn't lying to him. That made it even worse, Jim understood and still hadn't had the thought to tell him. He crossed his arms and let the door open slightly wider. "I want everyone out of my head. How many of there are you here?" Giving Shatterstar this warning now would be a large step to forgiveness. Just because Jim wouldn't use his powers because someone else had used them against him doesn't mean other people here wouldn't.
He still didn't believe Jim wouldn't, not fully.
"Several." This wasn't going to improve Shatterstar's paranoia, but lying would be worse. Jim sighed. So much for the rapport they'd been building. "Something you should know is that telepathy and telekinesis are often co-occurring. I'm not sure if you've met Dr. Grey, but she has the same power set as I do, though she has better control of it. So does Quentin."
He knew it. He knew it. Shatterstar had known there were more of them. (He knew there was a reason he didn't like Quire). He slammed his fist in quick succession against the door frame before hitting the heel of his hand repetitively against his temple. He didn't seem to notice the harm he was doing himself, half turned away from Haller. "I don't want anyone in my head," Shatterstar said, more to himself than to Haller. "No one can have that power over me!" He slammed his hand into the doorframe again. "I don't want anyone to ever have that over me!" He glanced at Haller, tense and just remembering he was there. "Stay out of my head," he threatened, the affect ruined by his outburst.
Jim watched the violence without reaction. He remembered those impulses. Some of the scars remained, even now.
"Please don't hurt yourself, Shatterstar," he said, quietly. "Jack will stop you if he has to, but only if he has to. Let's take a minute to breathe, okay?"
"I wasn't doing anything," Shatterstar reacted automatically. He hadn't meant to do anything like that. Sometimes it just happened, like a compulsion he couldn't stop. He was normally so good at hiding it. He must be more angry than he thought. (he couldn't admit to himself he was scared). He clenched the door handle again though with one hand and the door frame with the other and took the deep breaths prescribed until he trusted himself to be aware of his body.
"I want everyone to stay out of my head." He couldn't even trust it without anyone looking in, and Jim had witnessed that.
"It's okay," Jim said, ignoring the other statement. He was watching the young man closely, gauging the tension in his body. "I used to do that, too. Remember? I think Cyndi mentioned it. I just used telekinesis instead of my hands. Sometimes you just . . . have to get it out. It's okay."
"Whatever," Shatterstar said dismissively. He wasn't anything like Jim, and didn't want to be compared to him. Just because they had some shared experiences didn't mean he understood what was going on at all. And just because Jim said it was okay didn't mean it was- everyone knew it wasn't okay. He'd rather they just ignore it. "Were you here for anything else, or just to say the mansion is crawling with people who can get in my head?" He said, directing his anger at Jim instead.
"For the record, there are a few more. One is a woman named Emma Frost. The others are five sisters, identical. They're pure telepaths. Neither of them are around that much, though." Jim let the dismissal pass. He had to pick his battles. At least Shatterstar wasn't trying to injure himself anymore. He understood why the boy was so angry. He knew what it was like to have your mind treated like a puzzle, pulled apart and examined by well-meaning hands, when all you wanted was to be left alone and safe. To just deal with it on your own, free of judgement or harassment. And yes, sometimes you needed to be pulled, but . . . not like that. Not like what Charles had done to him. Not even if it had saved his life.
Jim had been toying with the idea despite his better instincts, but he knew, now, that he could never treat Shatterstar in a clinical setting. He was not capable of keeping a professional distance from this, and he wasn't going to pretend otherwise. He could help him with his powers, but nothing more.
He was not going to be his father.
Jim exhaled slowly. "If anyone in the mansion enters your mind without your permission," he continued, "tell me and I'll deal with it. Or you can tell Terry -- she can see the complaint gets where it needs to go. There are also exercises non-telepaths can learn to strengthen their shields. You don't need to learn them from a telepath, so you can start those too, if you want."
His grip on the door frame tightened at hearing there were six- six!- more telepaths, but Shatterstar kept it from from moving from the door frame. His nails were digging into the wood. He took more deep breaths.
He spoke slowly as he considered what Jim offered him. "I want the best teacher I can have, whether they're a telepath or not. I need the best teacher I can get." What he was really asking was for Jim to teach him. He hoped he would realize that. He was still angry at Jim and he didn't know if he trusted him, but he trusted him more than any other telepath there was. And he wanted a telepath to be able to practice against.
"No one is going in my mind if I don't want them to," he said, like a threat.
The telepath hesitated. The best would have been Emma -- she was by far the most experienced now that Charles was gone. And . . . what if he made another mistake? He'd been in Shatterstar's position, and he knew there was more at risk than broken trust.
Think hard, Jack warned him, entering the conversation for the first time. You should know better than anyone. You fuck this up, you're going to hurt this kid bad. You really think you can do this?
Jim looked into the boy's defiant blue eyes, and remembered. Remembered trying so hard to push everyone away when all he wanted was someone to reach out a hand.
Slowly, the older man nodded.
"We'll do everything we can to make sure of that," he agreed. "Your mind is set up a little differently. I have personal experience with how systems like ours work. I'll teach you."
Deep in the headspace Benjamin breathed a sigh of relief that Shatterstar hadn't ruined everything and made Jim go away forever. Shatterstar ignored it. It was just using the older man as a teacher. He still didn't like him or trust him. He was just the best option out of a bunch of bad options. He was still so angry, so angry at Jim and what Jim was representing with his negligence.
He glared at Jim but nodded. "We can start tomorrow. Soon."
His voice and expression changed, just for a second. "Thanks." The 'a' was longer than Shatterstar's Hollywood flatness, the expression almost teasing. But Benjamin was gone as soon as he came. Shatterstar started to close the door again.
Jim blinked, unsure if he saw what he thought he'd seen, but said nothing. Instead he gave the boy a crooked smile and nodded.
"9 o'clock. I'll be in my office."
Shatterstar had decided to do his training exercise outside. If anyone asked, it was because it was too nice of a day to stay cooped up inside. In actuality, he knew he probably shouldn't be doing what he was doing and didn't want Haller or Theresa to catch him and reprimand him. He was supposed to be taking it easy after his powers burned his arms again the other day when training with his powers. Currently, he was doing push ups by the lake, ignoring the pain and strain.
Out of nowhere a bucket's worth of water cascaded over Shatterstar's head as a high-pitched voice barked:
"'Scuse me, what did they tell you about aftercare?"
Haller was standing a short distance away, hands on his hips and one foot tapping. His eyes were a vibrant green. There was no bucket in sight.
"Literally, there was one rule," said Cyndi, "and that's 'don't be a dumbass'."
Shatterstar shot up like a rocket, shaking the water off of himself like a dog. He scowled at Haller, taking a minute to try to figure out who he was speaking to. He recognized this wasn't Jim and he didn't think it was the cowboy either. He crossed his own arms, giving her a hard stare.
"I wasn't being a dumbass," he defended himself. "I wasn't lifting anything."
Cyndi flicked her fingers against her temple. "I know you know how gravity works. You better hope we don't snitch or the redhead's going to tie you to a bed with cosy blankets and make you rest." She gave him a broad grin. "You can see it in her eyes. She's a nurturer."
Somewhere in the back of her mind Jim pinched the bridge of his nose.
Oh she would not tell Theresa on him. Shatterstar didn't know what it was about... (Cyndi was her name right?) her but he stalked over to her and tossed her in a fireman carry over his shoulders. Haller weighed much too little for a man of their height, but Shatterstar couldn't judge. Thankfully, they were right next to the lake so it was easy to dump her in, revenge for being soaked on his own. Did she have any idea how long it took for his hair to dry?
"You won't tell her."
Cyndi squawked as she hit the water. Jack could've stopped it, but this kid wasn't an actual threat and her own telekinesis couldn't move anything bigger than a molecule. She was still in the shallows, but somehow that was worse. The impact had stirred up so much silt she could no longer see the bottom, and based on the slime under her hands she was positive she didn't want to. "Ohhh, you little--" Cyndi sputtered, struggling to her feet. Her clothes now weighed twice as much and were covered in a disgusting greenish brown mud. She swiped a damp strand of black hair from her eyes and smiled again, this time with a hint of malice.
"Okay, you wanna play dumbass games? You win the dumbass prize."
Jim found an imaginary wall to bang his head against.
Cyndi cracked her knuckles. Tendrils of water rose from the lake, twisting like ribbons of diamonds in the sun, and struck Shatterstar from five different angles.
If he was anyone else he would have stumbled, but instead Shatterstar jumped from foot to foot, soaking even more wet. Now even his pants were wet too, great. At least he wasn't covered in mud.
(At least she was only using water).
"I am still standing and you are in the lake. Who has the dumbass prize?" He said, smiling a little bit.
For an instant she was tempted to set his head of luxurious hair on fire just to teach him a lesson, but remembered what Jim had seen the first time Shatterstar had seen them use fire. She didn't know what that was about, but they didn't need it to happen again. Instead she trudged to the shore, mire sucking at her shoes the entire time. She sloshed back onto land and grinned at him. She couldn't move anything heavier than a molecule, but she could move a lot.
Water streamed forward to encircle the young mutant in a shimmering cocoon. It stopped just an inch or two from his skin: nothing that would impede his breathing, but with no way out but the extremely undignified one of "through".
"Actually, now you're the one in the lake," Cyndi said, pretending to inspect her nails. Her nailbeds were black with lake sludge. She looked up into the star-shaped birthmark with mock-innocence. "Not touching, can't get mad."
Shatterstar felt a buzzing and a growing pressure as he was encircled by the water. Maybe he deserved it for dunking her in the water, but he did not like being wet. He narrowed his eyes at her widened his hands at his sides and started humming like Terry had showed him the other day.
The water whirlpool burst apart with only some of it splashing over his shoes and legs, the high-pitched whine of his powers breaking through as the water fell like a water balloon.
It had burned his arms again, but no worse than he had already burned them. Shatterstar hadn't even really thought it would work, he was just mad and felt it coming anyways.
He stalked towards her through the puddles on the ground. "Didn't touch, so you can't get mad," he said, echoing her.
Cyndi huffed. "Fiiiine. I think we both made our point." She recognized a potential war of attrition when she saw it, and besides, Shatterstar had just used his powers, and she was not going to be responsible for dragging him back to the mansion if he fell over. If Terry found out Haller had goaded him they would both be in trouble."Truce?" she offered. She scraped more wet hair away from her face and toyed with some of the droplets she'd caught when Shatterstar had broken the construct, whirling them around like a constellation of dewdrops just to remind him future soakings were still an option.
Shatterstar could feel the headache coming , so he nodded. He peeled off his wet shirt and tossed it to her. "For the mud on your face. Truce." He may be wet with lake water but at least he wasn't muddy. He inspected his arms- they had been mostly healed from the other day which is why he had decided to push it in the first place but they looked like they were badly sunburned again, peeling a little. Honestly, the fact he was wet probably made it hurt less.
"Thanks," Cyndi said, even though the shirt was definitely just as wet with sweat as it was with water. It was the thought that counted, right? She swiped it over her face, then gestured toward him with the damp wad. "Yo, let's get your arms cleaned up. You look like stuck them in a deep fryer."
"They aren't that bad," he disagreed. Shatterstar had never seen a deep fryer burn, but it felt and looked to him more like a bad sunburn. The type that might scab over when it healed, but with his quick healing it would be over within a day or two.
Still, he started walking back towards the school. Cyndi might not be the doctor, but she shared a body with one so she probably had a point. (Shatterstar still didn't understand that Haller wasn't actually a doctor.)
"Nah, man, trust me, you want to keep that shit clean. One time I burned myself and ended up getting this gnarly infection so they basically tied me to a bed and pumped us full of IV antibiotics for a couple days. It's a super boring time. Do not recommend." Cyndi jogged a little to catch up with him. Her shoes still squelched when she walked, giving her steps an uncomfortably liquid emphasis. You could put shoes in a dryer, right? Whatever, that was a Jim problem.
Shatterstar had to admit that sounded dreadfully boring, but what his ears focused on was that even the one with the fire could get burned. He had seen Haller's burn scars before, but had somehow assumed that had been different. "Take care of your own burns better, then," he responded. He looked at his arms again. The worst of it was on his forearms, giving him the appearance of a farmer's tan. It was already peeling. Cyndi had a point, even if he didn't want to listen to it.
"Well yeah, obviously I did after that," the alter snorted. She held the porch door open for Shatterstar with one hand while she bent down to start tugging at the edge of the one sodden shoe with the other. "But for real, it's solid advice. Like, I think people forget here, but some of us got more to worry about than breaking furniture when we're training. I heard there's a guy here who just walks around melting doorknobs or whatever without needing skin grafts and it's like, wow, must be nice."
Shatterstar nodded in agreement. Even when his powers didn't burn him, they would exhaust him. He had fainted before from it- or at least he was pretty sure that had been from using powers. He stood against the porch door, holding it open for her as she took her shoes off. "Can I ask a personal question?" he asked.
Cyndi finally managed to wrench a shoe free and tossed it to the far end of the porch, where it splatted. "Sure. Do I look like somebody who gives a crap about secrets?"
She did not. But Shatterstar had been around Haller enough to know that Jim did. "Is it just you and Jim who get hurt? Or the cowboy too?" He didn't actually remember Jack's name, or anyone else in Haller's system.
"Oh, Jack?" Cyndi discarded the other shoe and peeled off her socks altogether. "Jack's specialty is like, not getting hurt. Shields, catching bullets, crap like that. But back when David was way crazier and there were more of us who had the telekinesis this poltergeist stuff happened sometimes if we were having a little moment. Like, everything in the room flying around and hitting people, and sometimes those people were us. I wouldn't call Jack like, amazing or anything, but it was never out of control like that for him." Declining to mention the incidents where Jack had used it in acts of intentional self-harm wasn't keeping secrets, she reasoned, just not relevant to the discussion.
"Cowboys are known for their control with shots, so that makes sense," Shatterstar said, thinking of all the westerns he had seen in his life. He didn't care much for the genre, but he found he came back to the concept often, especially from documentaries. They were the warriors of American culture after all. And even though he had only met Jack once, he could tell he was a cowboy. "Also, don't you do telekinesis? With the water?"
Cyndi jerked her head towards the door, urging him to follow her inside. "Oh yeah, but I can only move small stuff. Like, molecule-small. I can just move a ton of it at once. Jack can handle big dangerous shit, but he's better if he can focus on one thing at a time." She twirled the damp socks as she walked, windmilling drops of lakewater onto the furniture. "Jimmy kinda splits the difference with attention span, but he only works with minds, not stuff that actually matters."
Shatterstar stopped from where he had been following her, grabbing her wrist on instinct to get her to stop too. He he looked at her it was without any of the lightheartedness the rest of this interaction had held. He was taking advantage of all his height and the intensity his birthmark gave his face. "He does what?" he asked her in a cold voice as he let go of her. Any mental defenses he had slammed up in his anger. He should have known, he should have recognized it.
He should have been able to recognize a telepath.
Shatterstar knew he shouldn't be mad at Cyndi, she was the one who told him and hadn't been the one keeping secrets, but that didn't matter. She was in front of him, so she was getting the brunt of it.
He didn't want other people in his mind ever again. It wasn't safe. Even more than that he thought he could trust Jim, relatively at least, but he had been lying to him.
Cyndi's eyebrows shot up. Did this kid have experience with telepaths? Usually that only happened to people who were being liberated from sketchy off-the-books government programs, but presumably there were other, non-traumatic situations you could meet them through.
Or maybe not, judging from Shatterstar's reaction.
"Oh wow . . . did he forget to say? Wow." Cyndi didn't bother trying to shake the boy off; she was busy giving Jim the spiritual version of a disbelieving stare. You gonna make me fix this mess for you, too? She turned her attention back to the teen. "Okay, first of all, our bad. There was a lot going on, and it legit slipped his mind. He doesn't use it unless the other person says it's okay. THAT SAID-" and this was directed just as much as Jim as it was at Shatterstar, "it's a super shitty thing to spring on you. I'm sorry."
It wasn't that Shatterstar's experience with telepaths in particular were bad- he had loved his aunt more than he now knew how to verbalize. The problem was with every other person who had ever tried to get into his head the traditional way. The problem was not being able to trust your own mind, not being able to have anything private. The problem was the security risk.
It was hard enough knowing he shared his mind. And he didn't believe what Cyndi said about Jim not snooping. Maybe it said more about him, but if he was in Jim's position he would pry, if just because his paranoia wouldn't let him do otherwise. Paranoia was the problem. People would know, Jim would know how to hurt him, how to hurt Benjamin. And Shatterstar could not allow that. It was his job to protect them, protect them from everything.
"Get away from me," he hissed at Cyndi, or Jim, or whoever else might be listening to him. He didn't want to turn his back on them, but it didn't matter, did it? They could get the drop on him anyways- Cyndi had all but said Jim was good with minds. (Aunt Ginny had only been able to read surface thoughts, nothing hidden or deep and dark). He couldn't trust them facing them or not. He stalked off to his room, even though he doubted distance would help.
Jim talks to Shatterstar to apologize for not warning him about his teleapthy and to to create a plan going forward. TW: Brief self harm/harmful self soothing
It was some hours before Jim sought out Shatterstar's room. Partly to clean up, partly to collect himself, and partly because it had taken that long for Cyndi to stop telling him he deserved to get punched in the dick.
On the level, there are worse outcomes.
Jim sighed and knocked on the door.
"Shatterstar? Are you in there?"
Shatterstar had showered and even put aloe on his burns like he was supposed to and had spent the past few hours trying not to dissociate from anger and form a plan. Of the mutants he had known in his life, two of them were telepaths, which meant there could be more here. He had sort of been starting to like it here, but his fear responses were telling him to get away from here, get away from this place that was forcing him into a vulnerable position.
He wrenched the door open before mostly closing it, just enough for Jim to see his eyes. "You lied to me," He said quietly. "To us," he added because there was no reason to beat around the bush. He had thought Jim would understand. He thought he at least deserved a warning.
Jim met Shatterstar's hard, distrustful gaze through the crack. He couldn't fault this response. He didn't know what the young man's history might be, but he could make an educated guess based on his own.
"It's worse," Jim said at last. "I forgot. It was negligent of me not to make it clear from the start. I owe you an apology. You deserved to go into this on equal footing."
He was still so angry he almost slammed the door in Jim's face. Instead he kept his hand gripped tight around the doorknob. "Start apologizing." Saying you owed someone an apology was not an apology. An apology was the actions you took to make up for something.
The worst part of being angry at Jim is was that he wasn't just angry at Jim. He was angry at everyone who had ever been negligent to him. Shatterstar had faced both negligence and violence in his life and he had preferred the violence. The violence was something he felt he could fight against, and something he could respond to. It was something he knew how to protect Benjamin from.
Negligence was a subtler evil. It didn't matter what he did to try to fight against it.
"I'm sorry." He didn't try to equivocate. What did it matter to Shatterstar why it had happened? The only thing that counted was the result. Jim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "The one thing I can promise you is that I did not and will not look at your thoughts. One of the people who treated me could do that, too. It helped sometimes, but . . ." there was a twitch of something across his face, then his expression smoothed again. He shook his head. "I made a decision never to use mine like that. No one has the right to see us like that unless we want them to."
He started to accuse Jim of lying to him, but reading his expression he had a feeling that Jim wasn't lying to him. That made it even worse, Jim understood and still hadn't had the thought to tell him. He crossed his arms and let the door open slightly wider. "I want everyone out of my head. How many of there are you here?" Giving Shatterstar this warning now would be a large step to forgiveness. Just because Jim wouldn't use his powers because someone else had used them against him doesn't mean other people here wouldn't.
He still didn't believe Jim wouldn't, not fully.
"Several." This wasn't going to improve Shatterstar's paranoia, but lying would be worse. Jim sighed. So much for the rapport they'd been building. "Something you should know is that telepathy and telekinesis are often co-occurring. I'm not sure if you've met Dr. Grey, but she has the same power set as I do, though she has better control of it. So does Quentin."
He knew it. He knew it. Shatterstar had known there were more of them. (He knew there was a reason he didn't like Quire). He slammed his fist in quick succession against the door frame before hitting the heel of his hand repetitively against his temple. He didn't seem to notice the harm he was doing himself, half turned away from Haller. "I don't want anyone in my head," Shatterstar said, more to himself than to Haller. "No one can have that power over me!" He slammed his hand into the doorframe again. "I don't want anyone to ever have that over me!" He glanced at Haller, tense and just remembering he was there. "Stay out of my head," he threatened, the affect ruined by his outburst.
Jim watched the violence without reaction. He remembered those impulses. Some of the scars remained, even now.
"Please don't hurt yourself, Shatterstar," he said, quietly. "Jack will stop you if he has to, but only if he has to. Let's take a minute to breathe, okay?"
"I wasn't doing anything," Shatterstar reacted automatically. He hadn't meant to do anything like that. Sometimes it just happened, like a compulsion he couldn't stop. He was normally so good at hiding it. He must be more angry than he thought. (he couldn't admit to himself he was scared). He clenched the door handle again though with one hand and the door frame with the other and took the deep breaths prescribed until he trusted himself to be aware of his body.
"I want everyone to stay out of my head." He couldn't even trust it without anyone looking in, and Jim had witnessed that.
"It's okay," Jim said, ignoring the other statement. He was watching the young man closely, gauging the tension in his body. "I used to do that, too. Remember? I think Cyndi mentioned it. I just used telekinesis instead of my hands. Sometimes you just . . . have to get it out. It's okay."
"Whatever," Shatterstar said dismissively. He wasn't anything like Jim, and didn't want to be compared to him. Just because they had some shared experiences didn't mean he understood what was going on at all. And just because Jim said it was okay didn't mean it was- everyone knew it wasn't okay. He'd rather they just ignore it. "Were you here for anything else, or just to say the mansion is crawling with people who can get in my head?" He said, directing his anger at Jim instead.
"For the record, there are a few more. One is a woman named Emma Frost. The others are five sisters, identical. They're pure telepaths. Neither of them are around that much, though." Jim let the dismissal pass. He had to pick his battles. At least Shatterstar wasn't trying to injure himself anymore. He understood why the boy was so angry. He knew what it was like to have your mind treated like a puzzle, pulled apart and examined by well-meaning hands, when all you wanted was to be left alone and safe. To just deal with it on your own, free of judgement or harassment. And yes, sometimes you needed to be pulled, but . . . not like that. Not like what Charles had done to him. Not even if it had saved his life.
Jim had been toying with the idea despite his better instincts, but he knew, now, that he could never treat Shatterstar in a clinical setting. He was not capable of keeping a professional distance from this, and he wasn't going to pretend otherwise. He could help him with his powers, but nothing more.
He was not going to be his father.
Jim exhaled slowly. "If anyone in the mansion enters your mind without your permission," he continued, "tell me and I'll deal with it. Or you can tell Terry -- she can see the complaint gets where it needs to go. There are also exercises non-telepaths can learn to strengthen their shields. You don't need to learn them from a telepath, so you can start those too, if you want."
His grip on the door frame tightened at hearing there were six- six!- more telepaths, but Shatterstar kept it from from moving from the door frame. His nails were digging into the wood. He took more deep breaths.
He spoke slowly as he considered what Jim offered him. "I want the best teacher I can have, whether they're a telepath or not. I need the best teacher I can get." What he was really asking was for Jim to teach him. He hoped he would realize that. He was still angry at Jim and he didn't know if he trusted him, but he trusted him more than any other telepath there was. And he wanted a telepath to be able to practice against.
"No one is going in my mind if I don't want them to," he said, like a threat.
The telepath hesitated. The best would have been Emma -- she was by far the most experienced now that Charles was gone. And . . . what if he made another mistake? He'd been in Shatterstar's position, and he knew there was more at risk than broken trust.
Think hard, Jack warned him, entering the conversation for the first time. You should know better than anyone. You fuck this up, you're going to hurt this kid bad. You really think you can do this?
Jim looked into the boy's defiant blue eyes, and remembered. Remembered trying so hard to push everyone away when all he wanted was someone to reach out a hand.
Slowly, the older man nodded.
"We'll do everything we can to make sure of that," he agreed. "Your mind is set up a little differently. I have personal experience with how systems like ours work. I'll teach you."
Deep in the headspace Benjamin breathed a sigh of relief that Shatterstar hadn't ruined everything and made Jim go away forever. Shatterstar ignored it. It was just using the older man as a teacher. He still didn't like him or trust him. He was just the best option out of a bunch of bad options. He was still so angry, so angry at Jim and what Jim was representing with his negligence.
He glared at Jim but nodded. "We can start tomorrow. Soon."
His voice and expression changed, just for a second. "Thanks." The 'a' was longer than Shatterstar's Hollywood flatness, the expression almost teasing. But Benjamin was gone as soon as he came. Shatterstar started to close the door again.
Jim blinked, unsure if he saw what he thought he'd seen, but said nothing. Instead he gave the boy a crooked smile and nodded.
"9 o'clock. I'll be in my office."
