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xp_logsBackdated to Wednesday 7th February 2024
After her conversation with Arthur, Maya goes looking for another point of view
Maya normally didn’t concern herself with whatever drama was going on at the mansion unless said drama happened to have her in its immediate vicinity. She found it cut down on headaches and disappointed looks for her friends. Frankly speaking, a day in which she didn’t have to deal with someone else’s bullshit was a happy day.
She knocked on Haller’s door, already exhausted by the idea and wondering if she maybe should have brought beer.
Jim opened the door and blinked. He rarely got visitors other than Sooraya since he'd felt secure enough to leave Arthur unsupervised, and this certainly wasn't one of the normal ones.
"Maya?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is everything all right?"
“Depends.”
Maya gave him a look, pondering on whether she should be doing this. Arthur was an adult, able to manage his relationships.
“What’s with you and Arthur?”
"We aren't dating, I just didn't want him unsupervised with a traumatic brain injury," Jim said since that seemed to be the implication behind that question lately. "Assuming that's what you mean, anyway. Why do you ask?"
“Given the man gets angry at the idea of having to define who the fuck he is outside paid acting jobs, I’d hope the fuck not,”
Maya gave Haller an exasperated look and rolled her eyes at the implication she gave a shit who either of them dated. Beyond the ability to stir the pot in the mansion gossip train anyway.
“He just gave me the entire rundown, and frankly I can think of a few things more important than who he is or isn’t fucking right now, can’t you?”
Jim snorted. "I agree. We've already had a fight about it. Or as close to a fight as Arthur gets, anyway."
“You fought about who he’s fucking?”
Maya gave Haller a suddenly innocent look, her entire demeanour relaxing as she realised he wasn’t the one who had pushed Arthur to this level of distress. No, that had all been Arthur himself.
"I wish. I dream of dealing with something that banal for once." Jim stepped aside and gestured for Maya to enter. "Anyway, did you have anything specific in mind, or just expressing generalised frustration?"
“Remind me when the last time you had a vacation was?”
Maya walked past him, curious given she had never actually been in his suite before. You could always tell a lot about people given how they decorated or didn’t as the case might be.
"November. People were waiting on me hand and foot."
The first thing Jack had done upon their return was clean, and they hadn't been settled back in long enough for the suite to regain its normal levels of chaos. The furniture was still the sort originally supplied by the mansion: good quality and durable, but not terribly distinctive. A closed easel leaned against one wall near the storage cabinet that contained the associated supplies. The wall art was more personal, tending towards the vivid and abstract, but it was not his own. It just seemed to be something to fill empty space. Although binders and various piles of paperwork had been relegated to the dining table it was obvious the organization was already starting to slip. The faint smell of smoke permeated the room, and there was a full ashtray balanced on the windowsill.
The door to the guest room had been left open. As Maya entered she had just enough time to glimpse a collage of band posters and what might have been a half-done but hugely complex Lego project before Jim crossed the room and shut the door.
"Want anything to drink?" he asked, gesturing for Maya to take a seat on the couch. "I'm more of a coffee drinker, but tea's an option."
“Black, three sugars.”
It was automatic, and while she did enjoy tea, you couldn’t know Topaz and not get an education, she did prefer a good strong coffee. It had gotten her through many a night’s study at college. Especially since she rarely did the suggested reading until the very last minute.
She’d have spent more time snooping about Haller’s place, especially since she knew he wouldn’t say a thing, but she had some manners.
“I like the art, but also, comas aren’t a vacation.”
The older man snorted as he scooped beans into the electric grinder. "So I'm told. There hasn't exactly been a good chance for a break, though." He paused to render the beans into grounds of sufficient fineness before continuing. "Arthur said you guys were going to talk. I'm guessing this is related?"
“He explained his past.”
Maya’s hands clenched briefly before she deliberately relaxed her fingers and rolled her shoulders to release the anger.
“Let’s just say if Mojo and that bitch of a telepath weren’t already dead, I’d be seriously considering the whole X-men don’t kill decree. But he said you helped put him back together. I was hoping you’d explain that.”
Jim started the coffee maker and moved to join her. "There's not much to explain," he replied as he sat in the chair across from the younger woman. "His memories were full of holes. Emotional connections severed, traumatic memories pushed below the surface so he could keep working. A few false memories, too. I salvaged what I could, but that woman, Minnie, had been tearing up his mind for six or seven years by that point. It was the worst case I'd ever seen until J-" He caught himself before he could say "Jessica"; Maya would've had a chance to see the writeup about the woman's experience with Kilgrave, but it felt wrong to be that explicit. Instead he corrected himself to, "Until recently."
“How do we help him?”
Maya could manage physical problems, and she’d been trained to work with kids and the governmental systems around them but helping an adult who for all intents and purchases had been mentally raped for seven years. How did you even begin to soothe that? Arthur was such a good and kind man, more than this world deserved.
She didn’t know how best to move forward.
“How do we get him to help himself?”
Jim was silent for a moment, a muscle working in his jaw. Finally he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"You can't make someone want to help themself," he said, "but I'm not sure that's the right question here. I think he wants to help himself. The problem is that he doesn't know who he is, and without that he doesn't know how to move forward."
“That’s not exactly helped by the fact the man thinks wanting things for himself brings bad luck.”
Maya’s tone was wry, but she’d noticed the jaw clench, and the sheer exhaustion Haller had been exuding for awhile now.
“It also probably doesn’t help that I’m asking you to help when you’re barely holding it together yourself. When was the last time you slept a full eight hours and wasn’t in a coma?”
The telepath waved her off. "I'm still having some issues with my telepathy, but that's what the Box is for. Now that Arthur's out of the danger zone I can decompress if I need to. Anyway, for Arthur -- honestly I think the best thing we can do for him is give him support while he figures things out. A big chunk of his life has been dictated by external forces. Mojo, or his luck, or even the psychometry . . . without all that, who is he? I sure as hell wouldn't be able to figure that out overnight."
“What I thought. Which sucks because I was hoping you’d have a better solution than watch and wait.”
Her tone was still wry, and nothing in her posture or gaze was anything but frustrated at the situation. She knew Haller was right, and she knew Arthur would fight thinking about this or anything to do with doing things strictly for himself with every fibre of his being. It was going to take a while.
“I’m surprised you’re not already drinking.”
The telepath gave her a wry smile. "If it didn't mess with my telepathy I'd already be face down in a gutter by now-- hang on." At the coffee maker's chirp, the older man excused himself to fetch the customary beverage.
"Not being able to help someone in obvious pain is frustrating," he continued as he decanted the coffee into two mugs. Three packets of sugar went into Maya's before he returned to the living area. "It's bad when it's a client, and it's worse when it's a friend. Just remember that support doesn't always have to be active. Giving someone an ear, or the respite of just letting them exist without pressure -- that's help, too."
Maya took the coffee with a grateful smile and breathed in the aroma of the brew before giving him a thoughtful look.
“So, David. What are your opinions on anime?”
After her conversation with Arthur, Maya goes looking for another point of view
Maya normally didn’t concern herself with whatever drama was going on at the mansion unless said drama happened to have her in its immediate vicinity. She found it cut down on headaches and disappointed looks for her friends. Frankly speaking, a day in which she didn’t have to deal with someone else’s bullshit was a happy day.
She knocked on Haller’s door, already exhausted by the idea and wondering if she maybe should have brought beer.
Jim opened the door and blinked. He rarely got visitors other than Sooraya since he'd felt secure enough to leave Arthur unsupervised, and this certainly wasn't one of the normal ones.
"Maya?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is everything all right?"
“Depends.”
Maya gave him a look, pondering on whether she should be doing this. Arthur was an adult, able to manage his relationships.
“What’s with you and Arthur?”
"We aren't dating, I just didn't want him unsupervised with a traumatic brain injury," Jim said since that seemed to be the implication behind that question lately. "Assuming that's what you mean, anyway. Why do you ask?"
“Given the man gets angry at the idea of having to define who the fuck he is outside paid acting jobs, I’d hope the fuck not,”
Maya gave Haller an exasperated look and rolled her eyes at the implication she gave a shit who either of them dated. Beyond the ability to stir the pot in the mansion gossip train anyway.
“He just gave me the entire rundown, and frankly I can think of a few things more important than who he is or isn’t fucking right now, can’t you?”
Jim snorted. "I agree. We've already had a fight about it. Or as close to a fight as Arthur gets, anyway."
“You fought about who he’s fucking?”
Maya gave Haller a suddenly innocent look, her entire demeanour relaxing as she realised he wasn’t the one who had pushed Arthur to this level of distress. No, that had all been Arthur himself.
"I wish. I dream of dealing with something that banal for once." Jim stepped aside and gestured for Maya to enter. "Anyway, did you have anything specific in mind, or just expressing generalised frustration?"
“Remind me when the last time you had a vacation was?”
Maya walked past him, curious given she had never actually been in his suite before. You could always tell a lot about people given how they decorated or didn’t as the case might be.
"November. People were waiting on me hand and foot."
The first thing Jack had done upon their return was clean, and they hadn't been settled back in long enough for the suite to regain its normal levels of chaos. The furniture was still the sort originally supplied by the mansion: good quality and durable, but not terribly distinctive. A closed easel leaned against one wall near the storage cabinet that contained the associated supplies. The wall art was more personal, tending towards the vivid and abstract, but it was not his own. It just seemed to be something to fill empty space. Although binders and various piles of paperwork had been relegated to the dining table it was obvious the organization was already starting to slip. The faint smell of smoke permeated the room, and there was a full ashtray balanced on the windowsill.
The door to the guest room had been left open. As Maya entered she had just enough time to glimpse a collage of band posters and what might have been a half-done but hugely complex Lego project before Jim crossed the room and shut the door.
"Want anything to drink?" he asked, gesturing for Maya to take a seat on the couch. "I'm more of a coffee drinker, but tea's an option."
“Black, three sugars.”
It was automatic, and while she did enjoy tea, you couldn’t know Topaz and not get an education, she did prefer a good strong coffee. It had gotten her through many a night’s study at college. Especially since she rarely did the suggested reading until the very last minute.
She’d have spent more time snooping about Haller’s place, especially since she knew he wouldn’t say a thing, but she had some manners.
“I like the art, but also, comas aren’t a vacation.”
The older man snorted as he scooped beans into the electric grinder. "So I'm told. There hasn't exactly been a good chance for a break, though." He paused to render the beans into grounds of sufficient fineness before continuing. "Arthur said you guys were going to talk. I'm guessing this is related?"
“He explained his past.”
Maya’s hands clenched briefly before she deliberately relaxed her fingers and rolled her shoulders to release the anger.
“Let’s just say if Mojo and that bitch of a telepath weren’t already dead, I’d be seriously considering the whole X-men don’t kill decree. But he said you helped put him back together. I was hoping you’d explain that.”
Jim started the coffee maker and moved to join her. "There's not much to explain," he replied as he sat in the chair across from the younger woman. "His memories were full of holes. Emotional connections severed, traumatic memories pushed below the surface so he could keep working. A few false memories, too. I salvaged what I could, but that woman, Minnie, had been tearing up his mind for six or seven years by that point. It was the worst case I'd ever seen until J-" He caught himself before he could say "Jessica"; Maya would've had a chance to see the writeup about the woman's experience with Kilgrave, but it felt wrong to be that explicit. Instead he corrected himself to, "Until recently."
“How do we help him?”
Maya could manage physical problems, and she’d been trained to work with kids and the governmental systems around them but helping an adult who for all intents and purchases had been mentally raped for seven years. How did you even begin to soothe that? Arthur was such a good and kind man, more than this world deserved.
She didn’t know how best to move forward.
“How do we get him to help himself?”
Jim was silent for a moment, a muscle working in his jaw. Finally he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"You can't make someone want to help themself," he said, "but I'm not sure that's the right question here. I think he wants to help himself. The problem is that he doesn't know who he is, and without that he doesn't know how to move forward."
“That’s not exactly helped by the fact the man thinks wanting things for himself brings bad luck.”
Maya’s tone was wry, but she’d noticed the jaw clench, and the sheer exhaustion Haller had been exuding for awhile now.
“It also probably doesn’t help that I’m asking you to help when you’re barely holding it together yourself. When was the last time you slept a full eight hours and wasn’t in a coma?”
The telepath waved her off. "I'm still having some issues with my telepathy, but that's what the Box is for. Now that Arthur's out of the danger zone I can decompress if I need to. Anyway, for Arthur -- honestly I think the best thing we can do for him is give him support while he figures things out. A big chunk of his life has been dictated by external forces. Mojo, or his luck, or even the psychometry . . . without all that, who is he? I sure as hell wouldn't be able to figure that out overnight."
“What I thought. Which sucks because I was hoping you’d have a better solution than watch and wait.”
Her tone was still wry, and nothing in her posture or gaze was anything but frustrated at the situation. She knew Haller was right, and she knew Arthur would fight thinking about this or anything to do with doing things strictly for himself with every fibre of his being. It was going to take a while.
“I’m surprised you’re not already drinking.”
The telepath gave her a wry smile. "If it didn't mess with my telepathy I'd already be face down in a gutter by now-- hang on." At the coffee maker's chirp, the older man excused himself to fetch the customary beverage.
"Not being able to help someone in obvious pain is frustrating," he continued as he decanted the coffee into two mugs. Three packets of sugar went into Maya's before he returned to the living area. "It's bad when it's a client, and it's worse when it's a friend. Just remember that support doesn't always have to be active. Giving someone an ear, or the respite of just letting them exist without pressure -- that's help, too."
Maya took the coffee with a grateful smile and breathed in the aroma of the brew before giving him a thoughtful look.
“So, David. What are your opinions on anime?”
no subject
Date: 2024-02-10 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-02-11 12:45 am (UTC)Lots to love here — from Haller's careful control of his surroundings at the impromptu visit vs. his want to make Maya feel comfortable, to Maya's bluntness in her worries and feelings.
"November. People were waiting on me hand and foot." Of course Haller counts a coma as a vacation.
"“How do we get him to help himself?” I enjoyed this line from Maya because it shows that while she does hold concerns, she is still learning (ie, you can't make folks do things), but that can conflict with what she wants to happen quickly.