Jamie and Amanda, Jamie and Moira: Saturday, lunchtime and midafternoon

[x-crowdofone.livejournal.com]

Jamie and Amanda talk about reacting to Skippy, and Jamie finds out An Important Fact about Skippy's dupes, and then they change the subject to something non-wiggins-inducing.


The fridge was full to overflowing with food - it seemed Lorna and Rahne had appointed themselves guardians of people's unstable appetites, and perhaps gone a little overboard. Amanda was rummaging in its depths, not really sure what she was after, when Jamie came in.

Jamie ignored the fridge entirely, and was halfway through the construction of a plain peanut-butter sandwich before he registered Amanda's presence.

"Hey."

Amanda jerked upwards at the sound of the voice, hitting her head on the shelf above. "Bloodybuggeryfuck!" she exclaimed,
straightening and rubbing the sore spot. Then she realised who it was, and she calmed down a little. "Hey," she said. "You gave me a start. Didn't know anyone else'd be around - food ain't on people's minds lately."

"Sorry about that." Jamie smiled faintly. "Not exactly hungry myself, but I've already done the be-an-idiot-after-a-major-trauma thing, and I haven't eaten in a while."

"'S all right - got a hard head, accordin' t' some." Amanda grinned wryly. "An' I've already had me magic tutor emailin' people behind me back askin' 'em t' make sure I eat an' sleep an' all the rest of it, so yeah. Be easier if Nate didn't keep breakin' himself." She gave him a considering look. "You want a cuppa or somethin'? Ancient British tradition in situations where you don't know what t' say exactly."

Jamie shrugged. "Sure. Not tea, though, I'm all rebellious and stuff. Do we have any chocolate milk?

"Philistine," Amanda said, wrinkling her nose, but she recommenced her rummaging. "Ah-hah! We have chocolate milk, yes -
think Captain Tightpants drinks it, there's always gallons - an', we also have fudge." She emerged from the fridge, hands full, and kicked the door closed behind her. "I seem t' remember somethin' 'bout fudge makin' things less bad."

"It's been known." Jamie leaned against the counter, taking a piece of fudge. "Midmorning nap wasn't my best idea ever."

Amanda poured him a glass of milk and passed it over the central counter, before putting the jug back in the fridge. "Place
has been like one of those zombie movies, with all the people who ain't sleepin' proper. T' be expected, I s'pose - I've been doin' what I can t' help, if people want it." She hesitated, not sure of what to say next, and deciding to go for blunt. If Jamie got upset, she could always make her apologies and vanish. "You holdin' up okay?"

"Good days and bad days. Good hours and bad hours, sometimes. And people doing things to take my mind off things, which
sometimes works and mostly doesn't. I can't decide between being freaked out at the people who don't seem to mind having killed a whole lot of people, and asking them how they do it."

"Well, I can't talk for Shiro..." And here Amanda's lip curled contemptuously. "But if you get brought up by a bunch of whiny isolationists in a sewer, it helps." She shook her head in irritation. "We did what had t' be done, Jamers. Ain't like that bastard gave us a hell of a lot of choice. An' those copies of his meltin' if you looked at 'em sideways didn't exactly make it easy t' use non-lethal means." The last expression sounded odd coming from her - obviously one of Pete's that she'd picked up.

"Yeah, but . . . Skippy was his own person, he chose to be different than me--or was forced to, whatever, but . . . who's to
say one of his dupes couldn't have chosen different again? Only we didn't give them the chance."

"Um." Amanda looked down at the counter she was leaning her front against, her restless hands playing with a bread tie someone had left out. "Did I ever tell you 'bout the aura thing I learned over spring break?" she asked.

"Um, I don't think so. I think you might've maybe mentioned auras over the journals once or twice, but I just sorta chalked
that up to 'weird magic thing.'"

"Well, it is - the weird magic thing, that is. Somethin' Rom taught me, an' Doc Strange has been makin' me practice. People have an energy to 'em, an' if yer inclined that way, you can see it - 's a bit like how Manuel sees emotions, only I get just the really strong ones." Amanda carefully didn't mention what she was getting from Jamie's aura at that moment, mainly because it was such a confusion. "Those dupes, the off-shoots from that Skippy feller... their energy was all wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"It was... twisted. All turned in on itself. Wrong." Amanda gestured helplessly, trying to explain what she'd seen. "They
were all wrong, like someone had done somethin' to 'em, made 'em into things, instead of people." Amanda made a frustrated noise. "I ain't explainin' it very well, but those dupes, they weren't natural at all. An' I don't think they could've been any different t' what they were, not like that."

"Are you--" He frowned. "You wouldn't be saying it if you weren't sure. That might . . . kinda explain a couple things. I'm gonna talk to Doc MacTaggart later, see what she says." He finished off the piece of fudge and reached for another one. "Lets the rest of you off the hook, kinda, if you're right."

Amanad broke off a small corner from a piece of fudge, but didn't eat it straight away. "Seems t' me you didn't have a lot of
options," she said, catching the tone in his voice. "An' I know you don't want t' hear it, but you did well, considerin' the circumstances. He was threatenin' the kids, hurt Alison, Nate... He planned it all so you'd have t' face him the way you did."

"You're right, I don't." Jamie closed his eyes, willing away the irritation. "He planned it so I'd come alone. It happened the way it did because I chose to do it that way instead. Because I decided to kill him. So I've had about enough of people telling me I did a good job."

"See, this is why I usually stick t' tea. 'S easier that way." Amanda half-smiled, then went on. "So, yer've talked t' Nate already, I'm guessin'. Him or Pete. An' I bet they would've told you all about all the what-ifs an' all the rest of it, yeah?"

"Nathan," Jamie confirmed. "And yeah, he did. But that doesn't make me like the choices I did make."

"Remember when I was tellin' you 'bout magic? The threefold rule? Every time I do a spell, I have t' think 'bout what the consequences might be, make sure no-one gets hurt. Drives me bonkers sometimes." Amanda shook her head ruefully. "Rom taught me that sometimes the best choice ain't always the one yer gunna like."

"She tell you anything about not knowing what the best choice is?"

"She told me t' trust me instincts. Which works, if you trust yerself, but ain't always that helpful." Amanda shrugged. "Somethin' 'bout reachin' a certain level in the magical heirarchy that makes 'em all sound like bad fortune cookies."

"Too many Star Wars reruns, you think?" Jamie shook his head. "That was random. I . . ." He blinked. "So how're you doing, with that rule, I mean? After . . . what hapened."

Amanda picked off another chunk from the piece of fudge she was gradually destroying. "The first spell I did was a sleep spell, only, well, you know what happened. An' after that I was actin' t' protect Manuel. So as far as the rule goes, I get off pretty okay. The healin' helps - penance, I s'pose yer'd call it. A good act for a dodgy one. 'S all about balance." She met Jamie's eyes. "The hard part was goin' in, I thought I might enjoy it, that I'd wake up that bad part of me, the one I mentioned in that email t' you, when I was still in England? I've come a reasonable way, but I ain't there yet."

Jamie nodded. "The people that did, I . . .dunno what to say to them. Not like it came as much of a surprise, which is maybe the worst part." He paused. "Well. Of not knowing what to say to them, anyway. Got my choice of worst parts."

"I know what you mean. Shiro, 'specially - fuckin' kid, playin' games like it ain't real." Amanda glowered at the plate of fudge. "But they ain't monsters, for all that. They don't go out lookin' t' kill, they don't hurt for the fun of it. An' that's somethin', tho' it ain't much, 'specially for you. I'd hex Shiro for bein' such a pillock, if it wouldn't get me into trouble with the Powers That Be."

"Shiro wants to be an anime hero sometimes, I think." He paused, frowning. "Sarah's the one that bothers me. Because she does hurt for the fun of it, and she did go out looking to kill. And I knew she would."

"Well, she does an' she doesn't. She goes all in when there is a fight, an' yeah, she'll spar t' the point of drawin' blood, but she ain't the monster she thinks she is. Believe me, I know monsters. Got brought up by one." Amanda's glower darkened further. "Problem is, she got brought up by those Morlocks, an' taught that fightin' is the only way t' survive. Makes since, 'cept when you can't let it go when it's time to."

"Yeah, I got that. A lot of the grr is so people don't get too close. I . . . still wish I hadn't given her the chance to be what she thinks she is, though."

"It was Artie an' Miles - she would've gone in anyway, with or without yer say so. An' probably gotten the three of 'em killed, doin' it on her own." The witch sighed. "I got a bit stuck into her, tho', the day after. Told her she was usin' the monster thing as an excuse t' hide from the world."

Jamie snorted. "Bet that flew like a lead penguin."

"Well, I s'pose the only reason I'm still walkin' an' talkin' with all me guts intact is she likes me. Think I hurt her, tho', which I ain't proud of, but I lost me rag. Been doin' that a lot this week."

"Well, it's been a tough week, what with finals."

"Finals, an' way too much magic. Makes me edgy." With a shrug, Amanda changed the subject for a less-charged one. "So, I see the Devil Woman an' her lovely green haired assistant have you busy for this party."

---

Later, Jamie goes to visit Moira, finds out More Important Facts, and airs some of his worries about the immediate future. She is very reassuring and a gigantic help.


Jamie knocked on Doc MacTaggart's office door, figuring if she wanted to see him about the goop, she probably wanted to do it where she had all the analysis stuff ready to hand.

A little surprised, Moira blinked as she stepped away from her microscope. "Come in," she called, turning to face the door.

Jamie slipped through the door quietly. "Hey, Doc. You wanted to see me?"

"Jamie! Aye, come in, come in." She waved him towards a stool she had managed to fit into her office, amid the couch, her desk and chairs and god only knew how many books and pieces of small equipment. "I ran those tests ye wanted an' I'll probably be runnin' more as time goes on, but I thought ye might like ta 'ear wha' I 'ave so far."

"Yeah, definitely." Jamie perched on the stool, looking tense.

Moira turned and leaned against the counter to face him. "Genetics do match ta yers...ta a certain point. If this is wha' yer afraid o' becomin', ye dinnae 'ave anythin' ta worry 'bout. Unless ye managed ta get yer DNA inta such a quandry tha' it took me nearly an 'our ta sort all o' it out."

"So I'm not gonna start falling apart, or my dupes aren't, or whatever?"

She shook her head. "Nay. I'm thinkin' tha's a by-product o' 'ow much 'e was messed wit'. From wha' I've seen ye've got a limited source ye can make. But all th' dupes are 'ealthy, sturdy ones. Think o' it as a piece o' strin'. Th' further it gets away from whatever it was attached ta, th' easier it becomes ta rip an' tear, easier ta break. Tha's pretty much wha' was goin' on wit' Skippy's dupes. Spread 'imself ta thin in every which way."

"Okay." Jamie smiled wanly. "What about . . ." He paused. "I tried to absorb him, at the quarry, once we'd both gotten back down to one, and I couldn't. But he . . ." Jamie swallowed. "He could absorb me."

Moira stared at him, an answer trying to form itself in her brain. "Is tha' wha' 'appened?" she asked, quietly.

"I was still me, inside his head, and I . . . pulled, only not--there isn't, I don't know how to explain it. I'm not really sure what I did, except I fought back, and he . . . melted off, and I was left. So . . ." He shivered. "That's why I wanted you to look at my actual DNA too, because . . . the only thing I could think of is, I must have made me out of him, and--what if I did it wrong?"

"Ye dinnae," she responded, firmly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Jamie, listen ta me. Ye did every thin' right. Yer DNA is th' same as it was when ye got 'ere, okay? Ye did everythin' ye could." There was an underleing message there as well, not just about the DNA, but also about the entire fight.

Jamie sagged with relief. "That's . . . that nightmare done, then. I didn't much like that one." He frowned. "What about the absorbing thing, though? Does--I was thinking maybe that meant he was the original all along."

Moira frowned, trying to figure out the best way to say this without sounding confusing and end up running around the conversation in circles for an hour. "'ere, let's do an experiment," she suggested, suddenly moving things around. A microwave appeared from out of nowhere from under the pile of books and she pulled out two tupperwarebowls and placed one inside the other. "Fits, aye? Round one is ye, th' one inside, yer dupe. Now...take one, modify it..." Moira stuck the inside dish in the microwave and set the timer. A minute or two passed and then it chimed. She pulled it out carefully. "Willnae fit back in th' bowl, aye? 'owever…she switched the positions and the undestroyed bowl slipped into the melted, twisted one. "See? Yer th' same as ye always were but ye couldnae absorb 'im simply because 'e 'ad changed so much while ye remained constant."

Jamie, who had perked up noticeably, his curiosity engaged by the experiment, now looked thoughtful. "Huh. I hadn't thought about it like that. I guess it makes sense, though. And, y'know, kudos for not burying me under the technical data."

A grin peeked through. "We're nay all 'enry, ye know. Besides, I tend ta lose some o' me accent for a wee bit if'n I start 'eadin' ta far into me data an' I 'appen ta like it currently." Carefully, she cooled off the bowl and then tossed it in the nearest garbage can. "Jamie, ye're nay goin' ta end up like tha', I promise ye."

"Okay. That's . . . that's a huge relief. God. How--" He frowned. "What happened to him? I mean . . . was that, was it done on purpose?"

"Aye, it was." The answer was frank but there was sadness behind it as well. "From wha' I could tell, massive amounts o' genetic maniuplation 'appened. This dinnae come naturally, I can tell ye tha'. On top o' tha', I believe th' body tends ta adapt ta wha' 'tis goin' through. Large amounts o' stress on a mutant power might make it mutate even further, ta ensure survival."

Jamie cocked his head, a little confused. "So . . . if I get put under enough stress, this might happen again?"

"Nay, nay, I'm sorry, dinnae mean it like tha'. Enough stress an' ye'll adapt, aye. But I think ye'll only get this exact reaction under th' circumstances Skippy was under. Genetic manipulation, combined wit' wha' Magneto was doin' ta 'im, plus God only knows wha'. I doubt tha' ye'll ever reach this exact point."

"Okay." Jamie sighed. "Thanks. That . . . I couldn't stand wondering"

"Understandable," Moira responded, smiling at him kindly. "Jus' remember tha' yer never goin' ta 'ave ta go through wha' 'e did." Abruptly, she leaned over and gathered him in a hug. "God 'elp whoever makes an attempt at it..."

Jamie shuddered and leaned into the hug. "Thank you. I just . . . wish God had six months ago."

"I wish 'e 'ad as well," she murmured, mentally adding that to the long list of things God had to apologize for before she talked to him again. Moira gave him a light squeeze and pulled back. "But we 'ave ta move on an' ye've got a lot o' friends willin' ta 'elp ye."

"Yeah." Jamie wiped his nose. "I, um . . . this is going to sound weird."

"Not a lot these days I'll find weird," Moira pointed out, grabbing a tissue from a nearby box and handing it to him.

Jamie paused to blow. "Can I . . . when you're done, with the tests and everything, can I have what's left back? Something I think I'd like to do."

Moira did raise an eyebrow at that one. "Sure. In fact..." She turned around and started poking through various jars around her area. "Ahh, 'ere we go. I've got three jars, so givin' ye one will still let me finish me experiments." The jar was another, smaller tuperware container, about half-way full with the words "Skippy 2" written on it. "Work?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Jamie mustered up a smile. "And, um, the rest goes in the incinerator?"

Firm nod. "As soon as th' test results are done, aye. I'l nay be keepin' this around me lab."

"Okay. I didn't think you would, just . . . wanted to make sure Want the stuff gone, and . . . I kinda feel like I should've been helping with the cleanup, only . . ."

"Only yer in nay a frame o' mind ta be any use in tha' regard," Moira said, kindly. "We'll be able ta 'andle it, ye dinnae need anymore reminders right now."

Jamie nodded. "Chalk it up to that farm upbringing, I guess. Work needs doing and I've still got all my limbs."

She couldn't help but smile at that. "If'n it's really botherin' ye, later this week, come an' 'elp me fix th' vent shaft. Needs a good 'ammer put t' it, I think. Other than tha', relax. Enjoy th' party comin' up."

"I will." He frowned. "I just wish Kitty weren't leaving the next day."

"I know, but ye'll be able t' talk t' 'er. Ye ever thought o' visitin' 'er at some point while she's out there?"

"Every day. I've thought about smuggling myself into her carry-on and living under her bed all summer. Dunno what her parents would think. They're . . . the only time I've seen them they were busy ripping their marriage apart, so I'm not sure if they actually like me or if they were daring each other to be the bad guy."

"Jamie, yer verra, verra 'ard nay ta like," Moira pointed out. "Divorcies are nasty, trust me, but I'm pretty positive they like ye."

"Hope so. I'm not going away."

"Besides, sometimes it doesnae matter wha' th' parents think if'n ye all are 'appy, does it?"

"Well, no." He smiled. "And we are. But . . . it'd be easier on Kitty if they did. They could make us pretty miserable for a while before they figured that out."

"Aye, they could, but in th' end ye'd still 'ave each other an' they're th' one's who end up losin' out." She grimaced. "Sometimes, parents are right but nay in this case, though I still think they like ye."

"As long as they never ever find out I had a crazy evil twin. Telling my parents was hard enough."

"'onestly, 'tis none o' their business." Moira shrugged a little. "Yer nay related ta them, so they dinnae need ta know."

". . . Do they have classes for making sense in doctor school, or is that a Scottish thing?" Jamie grinned. "You should meet my grandma. I think you'd get along."

She grinned. "Bot', probably. An' from yer stories, meetin' yer family would be on' 'ell o' a fun time. But for now, I think ye're probably wantin' ta go spend as much time wit' yer girlfriend as possible, aye?"

"Yeah. Well, I am now anyway . . . but yeah. Thanks again."

"Any time. I'm always 'ere if'n ye need ta talk." Smiling, she waved him out of the room before turning back to her experiments.