Collective Soul: Empty Rooms

[xp_legion]

Ten days after his confrontation with Radha Dastoor, it becomes obvious that something is seriously wrong with Haller. However, what begins as a simple consultation with Charles Xavier quickly devolves into chaos.



It was, unfortunately, not uncommon for residents of the mansion to find themselves temporary residents of the Medlab. As such efforts had been made to furnish rooms in such a way to make a long-term stay as comfortable as possible: en suite bathroom for private use, wall-mounted television for entertainment, plush chairs for visitors. A bedside table and shallow closet for whatever items they might want brought down to them. If not for the bedside monitor currently sitting unused in one corner it might have been a rather under-furnished hotel room.

The room's current patient registered none of these. His eyes had opened, but they neither focused nor tracked. Their gaze was fixed on some unseen point beyond the opposite wall. The only movement was the occasional flick of his eyelids.

David Haller was functional, in a way. If directed he could walk, or eat, or drink. He was unresisting as blood was drawn, medications administered, and his body positioned for imagining. Cooperative, pliant, and totally absent. When his eyes had finally opened again they revealed no one left behind them.

Quickly, the medstaff had realized the truth: this was something that far exceeded simple overexertion. They needed an expert. Fortunately, they had one -- and that one was already more than familiar with this particular patient.

With a slow exhale, Charles Xavier returned to himself.

"All right, son. That will be all for now." Charles withdrew his hand from Haller's forehead, smoothing aside a piece of unruly black hair as he did. He turned to face the room's other occupant.

"This is far worse than I feared."

There was something about watching someone you cared about in a hospital bed that was unnerving and terrifying at the best of times, and this was hardly that. Watching the shell of that person was infinitely worse. It wasn't like Haller was stuck in bed recovering his just...wasn't there. The dark-haired man pushed himself away from the wall, arms uncrossing from his chest as sad eyes touched Haller's face for a moment before he looked over at Charles.

"I was afraid you were going to say that. I'm guessing there's no magic wand you can wave to fix things huh? Funny thing is, when I was young I was sure you had one, that you'd be able to deal with and fix anything we broke or messed up. Now it's my turn and...I really hope you just forgot to leave it in the desk for me, Charles."

It was different, their relationship now, Charles Xavier had raised him, had been more of a father to Scott than his own father, and they'd had their share of relationship ups and downs but now they were almost able to talk as equals, almost.

"Is...is there anything you can do for him?"

The older man gave him a self-deprecating smile. "There was never any magic, alas. Only hard work and patience, as you've no doubt discovered for yourself. Perhaps to your dismay."

Charles turned his attention back to his son's slack face, his own expression smoothing to professional unreadability.

"David's manifestation was born of trauma. Over the years he developed a system to assume control of that power in a way he found bearable. It is unique, but of necessity also quite resilient. When Radha Dastoor tampered with his mind this system was erased. When I examined him initially we determined the situation was . . . distressing, but not dangerous. My understanding is that these changes would have reverted on their own. However, I spoke with Ms. Abbott about the strategy they employed immediately before he lost consciousness. Under normal circumstances the system he has established allows David to manage such complex tasks with ease. Radha's violation robbed him of that."

The professor's tone was still neutral, his expression controlled. Only someone who had known him as long as Scott would have noticed the subtle hardening of his mouth.

"I don't know how you did it, how you let us go out there and didn't wrap us up in bubblewrap to try and keep us safe, I know we can't but I look at this, at any of their faces and I'm tempted. We're saving the world, but the cost is way too high sometimes."

The X-Man pushed away from the wall, padding across the room to stand next to Charles, a hand resting on his mentor's shoulder, squeezing ever so gently. If there was anyone who had absorbed and lived the philosophy of Charles Xavier it was Scott. He was called a boy scout, had held back, and pulled back the team from crossing the line again and again. But Radha tested him in a way few others had before. Early on Scott had learned to shield himself, to make his mind a black box impenetrable to all but the most concerted psychic invasions, but now, for a moment the box opened for Charles to see the emotion coiled within. "Every time I think we've seen the worst, someone else gives me a reason to hate them."

A deep breath, flowing in and out.

"Can you help him?"

The older man reached back to cover Scott's hand with his own. "Anything worth doing comes with a cost. Our time, our bodies, even our faith in this world." Charles turned to Scott and squeezed his hand in return. "The ability to spare a son these burdens, no matter how much one might wish it."

It was a moment of calm amidst the craziness that was their lives, a brief chance for Scott to take solace, comfort from someone else, perhaps the only person in the world who could understand what he was going through. For a moment he was like a young boy looking for his father to make the world better, just his presence a calming thing, even if just for a second.

It was a relief that lasted for all of the space between one heartbeat and the next, a time that was so infinitesimally small that it didn't even last for a full heartbeat.

It was a moment that lasted forever.

The elder telepath held the younger man's gaze for a long moment, then turned his attention back to his patient.

"It appears that although David had full access to his not inconsiderable powers his mind could not utilize the usual channels to express it. So much power forced through an unnatural configuration to perform such a complex task . . ." Slowly, Charles shook his head. "With his mind closed to me I have no way to be sure, but I sense the damage was profound. Perhaps as profound as his manifestation event. I fear the walls he has built will take weeks to breach, and the actual repair many more. We should prepare him for transport back to Muir Isla--"

The room erupted.

A wave of telekinesis slammed into the two men like a tidal wave that sent the wheels of Charles' chair squealing across the tile and Scott to the floor. There was an explosion as one chair hit the opposite wall with lethal force while the other, billowing with smoke, flew to the opposite corner and into the bedside monitor. The faux wood of the closet door splintered as if someone was striking it with a hammer again and again, only for the invisible blows to travel up the wall and crunch the center of the plasma TV. Metal shrieked: the bathroom door had slammed so hard it tore from the top hinge. It continued to swing, flapping against the doorway like a gibbering tongue.

Scott was unprepared for the turn, the explosion that seemed to ripple out from the unconscious man, the flooring and the ceiling rippling with the waves of mental power that were unleashed by a wave of telekinetic energy. The X-Man could feel the breath driven out of his lungs as he was thrown to the floor so hard he saw stars for a moment as sparks, metal and glass fell like rain. He barely had time to think, instincts born of a lifetime of combat kicking in as one of his legs scythed out, lashing against the wheel of Charles' chair, tipping it over as Scott rolled up and over the older man, arms outstretched to hold himself off the floor like a makeshift shelter as he felt the impact of the falling tiles and metal against his back.

"Clarice!"

Already moving across the medlab to Haller's room as soon as everything began shaking, Clarice paid no attention to Xavier or Scott as she opened a portal over Haller to protect him. "Hey, hey, shhh," she tried to calm her patient, to stop the powers flux, voice calm and steady, "You need to calm down, you're okay. Whatever just happened, I won't let it. You need to stop this though. Or I'll have to sedate you," she was already preparing to do so, "You can both leave my patient alone now."

Haller had flung himself upright in bed and was now pitched over his knees, rolling his torso in tight, agitated loops as sheets bunched beneath his white-knuckled grip. The television pulled itself from the wall and hurtled towards Clarice, only to disappear into the portal. The chair that had flown into the corner was now beginning to vibrate.

"Clarice, wait." Charles lifted his head from beneath the impromptu shelter of Scott's body, his voice calm despite the splintering of furniture and cracking of tiles. "Do not do anything that could be construed as an attack or an attempt to restrain him. Keep talking to him. If you can, give him physical contact without restricting his movements."

"My patient, Professor," Clarice replied evenly, voice not allowing for argument. She had every intention of taking the advice and she didn't want to sedate Haller if it could be avoided. That said, he was destroying everything around them. "But you got this, right, Haller? You can control yourself, stop making a mess. You know you can. Easy peasy."

A piece of splintered wood from the closet separated itself and flew across the room, but with diminished force -- the intensity of someone tossing a piece of wood aside rather than a plank being hurled by hurricane-force winds. The slamming from the broken bathroom door was also beginning to slow. By slow increments the chaos began to decrease until it was nothing but a few weak eddies in the debris scattered across the floor.

"Thank you, Clarice," Charles murmured. "Scott, help me up, if you would. I need to be next to him."

Dark eyes flicked around the room for a moment, taking in the sparking overhead lights and cracked walls for a moment before he pushed himself up, rolling to the side to uncover Charles before he pushed himself up to his feet. A hand reached down, lifting Charles up off the floor as the man's foot hooked through the wheelchair, righting it before settling the older man back in his seat next to his unconscious son.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, but you're ok. We're not taking you anywhere.".

"That may be the case. Thank you, Scott." The telepath had an abrasion on the back of his head from where a piece of debris had grazed him and a few scrapes on the knuckles of one hand, but if he'd suffered any other injuries he declined to acknowledge them. The younger man was still rocking back and forth. Charles began to reach out, then glanced at the young woman still standing protectively at Haller's side.

"This is not the first time I've encountered this," the professor explained. "May I?"

She nodded, familiar with his file. Of course, the last time he'd been this bad was over 20 years ago, so it was entirely possible that everything had changed, but this was the best playbook to work off as a start. She didn't leave his side, but she did shift to let him have easier access.

Charles nodded to her and turned his attention back to Haller. From long experience he knew that anything that could be interpreted as a threat would be met with sudden and violent resistance. Gently, he lay a hand across his son's back and the other over one curled fist.

"I'm here, David. Can you hear me?"

Every muscle in Haller's face had tensed and twisted into a grimace; his eyes were screwed shut, his breathing hard and labored. He was still exhibiting the stereotyped rocking. Charles kept his hands on the younger man. David had denied having much awareness of the years he'd spent in this state; whatever he may have registered during that period of his life had been taken by other parts of himself. However, unresponsiveness did not necessarily mean a lack of consciousness. Many patients suffering from catatonia later reported the ability to understand what was happening to them, and nothing frightened David more than when his powers ran wild. The boy had been afraid of hurting those around him since the day he'd manifested.

Always afraid.

"You became agitated when I suggested you accompany me back to Muir," Charles said. "Are you saying you want to remain at the Institute?"

The rocking continued, the face still clenched, but there was no new surge of telekinesis. Haller's labored breathing began to slow, just a little.

Charles squeezed the younger man's hand. "All right, son. I understand."

Even a closed mind could be touched. Charles pressed his consciousness to Haller's, a hand resting against the wrong side of a two-way mirror. Perhaps there was an observer on the other side of the glass, watching him but unable to respond . . . or perhaps this was nothing but wishful thinking, and he looked only into an empty room.

Charles withdrew his mind and sat back. In that moment he looked very old.

There were some enemies you could fight, a physical presence that you could see and you know how to handle. And then there were the others, those enemies that you couldn't see, that weren't so easy to fight. Scott had spent his life in combat, was one of the planet's most capable and dangerous fighters but...but against the enemies assaulting Haller he was helpless.

A hand reached out, resting on Charles' shoulder as the X-Man dropped his gaze to that of the older man.

"What do we do now?"

"I'll speak with Jean. I need to reassess my plan of care." Charles' eyes remained steady on Haller.

"I believe David has made his wishes known. For the time being, he remains here."