Hand Me Down: Part 1

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Wednesday morning and early afternoon: in the music room (before Nathan and Miles show up) Jamie and Jay try a jam session that is interrupted when Jamie starts hallucinating.  Jamie heads down to the medlab, where Madelyn gives him a checkup, pronounces him stressed, and instructs him to take one girlfriend and call back in the morning.



There were three places one could find Jay nowadays: his suite, the sky, or the music room. Seeing as how he didn't fly too often because he'd never admit that he actually enjoyed flying, and he wasn't in the mood to be bothered by Kyle or Forge, he could be found in the music room on Wednesday morning. He was taking a break from the song he was still in the process of composing, the sheets of music spread around him on the floor. Humming some catchy tune he'd heard on the radio recently, he absently strummed his guitar, not really paying attention to anything.

Jamie stuck his head in the music room, working on the theory that losing himself in one of his trickier composition projects would distract him from the shadows that had been chasing around the corner of his eye all morning. "Oh, hey, Jay," he said, spotting the room's other occupant.  "How's it going?"

Jay's head snapped up upon the intruder's entrance. Seeing that it was Jamie, Jay just shrugged. "S'okay, Ah guess. Nuthin' goin' on with me. Mah life isn't as interestin' as everyone else's 'round here," he said wryly.

Jamie chuckled.  "Treasure that boredom, man.  I used to think the same way. Mind if I . . ."  Flicker  He shook his head slightly, trying to clear it. "Mind if I borrow one of the practice booths?  Got a thing I'm working on. Unless you wanna jam?"

If Jay noticed Jamie's pause, he made no sign of it. "Whatever. Ah'm up for a quick thing if ya got somethin' on your mind," he replied, shrugging again. He reached forward to grab his papers and put them into one neat pile, then stood, stretching his legs and his wings. "Don' got nuthin' to do today."

"Don't really, but hey, that's why they call it a jam session instead of rehearsal."  Jamie sat down behind his drum set, steadfastly ignoring the flickering that, if he didn't look at it too closely, he could pretend was the fluorescent lights.  "I'll give you a beat, you see what you can do with it?"

Jay sat down on a stool and adjusted the guitar strap over his shoulder. "Go on," he said, waiting for Jamie to start.

Jamie started simple, a fairly strong driving beat.  The flickering subsided slightly, and he concentrated, trying to throw himself into the music.

Jay easily got himself into it. Clearing his mind of nothing but what he was playing was a skill he'd mastered long ago, and one which came in real handy the past few months. Eyes closed, fingers strumming as if they were born holding the guitar, Jay started humming along with the melody.

Jamie couldn't help but grin as he threw a few more complicated riffs into the mix.  Jay was a real pleasure to play with, and with Jono having problems, he'd missed backstopping a guitar.

Flicker

The hi-hat splintered as he brought his drumstick down, cracks spiraling out from the center, corrosion dimming its surface.  He shoved his chair back convulsively, the drumstick falling to the floor with a clatter.

But, of course, when he looked again, the hi-hat was fine.  Just a trick of the light, that was all.

It took Jay a few seconds to realize that he'd lost drum accompaniment. "What's goin' on?" he asked, turning around to face Jamie, wearing a look of confusion mixed with irritation. They had a good thing going, so why did Jamie just stop?

Jamie looked up from the hi-hat, pupils dilated, then shook his head.  "Ah. Nothing.  Just.  Dropped my stick, that's all."  He fished around on the floor for a moment, then held it up as evidence.  "Sweaty palms, I guess."

"Are ya sure you're okay?" Jay asked, looking at Jamie strangely. "It's not like ya to just drop your stick like that. And you're lookin' a mite peaked."

"No, it's okay, I'm . . ."  The light playing off the polished varnish of the drumstick in his hand caught Jamie's eye--flicker--and the varnish spiderwebbed with cracks, peeling and flaking.  He shook his head, looked again.  Nothing.  He glared at the stick, willing it to change again, trying to force the flicker, just so he could be sure it was something real.  Nothing happened.  "I dunno, maybe I'm coming down with a cold, or something."

"Maybe you should go back ta bed. Won't do nobody no good iffn ya fall over in the middle of the halls," Jay pointed out. "And then mah sis - Paige," he corrected himself, "Will yell and shout at ya till ya listen to her and get some rest and that's no fun."

Jamie chuckled, the sound raw around the edges.  "Paige I'm not so much worried about.  Kitty, now . . . after the last couple times I didn't take care of myself properly, I'll be lucky to end up out in the stables next to Misty, I do anything like that again."

"And ya wouldn't want ta get your girl put out with ya, wouldja?" Jay asked rhetorically. "Go on, get, before she finds you and starts hasslin' ya 'bout blackin' out and such."

Jamie didn't reply at first--one of the chrome fittings on his bass drum had caught his eye, and he was staring fixedly at it.  It was a mirror, a tiny mirror, and he could see his reflection--upside down, in the curved surface, but that was right, somehow--and any minute now, if he just stared long enough, if he didn't let it out of his sight, his reflection would explain what was--

Jamie blinked again.  "What?  Oh.  Yeah."  He stood up, dumping his sticks carelessly onto his chair.  "I'll go . . . do that.  Thanks." He shook his head, trying to clear it.  "We should do this again sometime, when I'm . . . feeling better."

"Sure, dude. What little we did before ya went all funky was cool." Jay shook his hair out of his face. "See ya later. Get good, man. The last thing this place needs is for one of the few good musicians ta get 'imself funny-turned."

"Yeah."  Jamie shook his head one more time, trying to knock loose whatever it was in there that had gone weird on him.  He slipped out into the hall, making his way toward the stairs, then paused, thought for a moment, and turned to head toward the medlab instead.

---

Rubbing his eyes absently, Jamie poked his head into the medlab and, not seeing anyone immediately, rapped a quick beat on the open door. "Anybody home?  C'mon, I know you guys haven't figured out how to be that social yet.  Doc MacTaggart?  Doc Bartlet?"

"Just a minute!" came the reply, sounding rather befuddled. Moments later, Madelyn came out of her office, looking tired and a bit dishevelled. "Jamie, hi. Sorry, I was just catching up on some sleep. Mind you, it started off as catching up on writing reports and turned into sleep." She straightened her lab coat and gave him a brief, weary smile. "What can I do for you?"

Jamie scratched his head sheepishly.  "Oh--sorry I woke you up.  I just--well, it's not an emergency, or anything, I don't think it is anyway, I've just been . . . feeling a little weird, and I wanted to make sure it wasn't that I'm getting sick, or something, before I take it to Doc Samson or anything.  Do you have time to give me a checkup?"

"I always have time for people who come in under their own steam and don't need to be dragged in kicking and screaming," Madelyn said with a weary smile. "Let's get you into the exam room and take a look, shall we?"

Jamie followed Madelyn into the exam room and hopped up to perch on the edge of the table, the sanitary paper crackling under him.  "What it is, is . . . well, I think I'm seeing things.  Or . . . I dunno. Every so often today, and I think a little bit yesterday, I keep catching things out of the corner of my eye--like, I was in the shower this morning and I thought the mirror over the sink was broken, but when I looked it was fine.  Stuff like that.  It's never anything huge, and it's always gone when I take a better look, but it's just . . . weird, so I figured I should get looked at."

"Hmm." Madelyn frowned, thinking it over. "No recent bumps to the head? Falls?" she asked, pulling over the equipment tray. "Things getting a bit rough in self defence class?"

"Not really, no . . . no accidents lately, and even then my power tends to take the edge off stuff like that even when I don't dupe. And the trick in self-defense is usually to get me to stop taking it easy.  I got a little too used to not being able to hit people back when I wasn't able to avoid duping when I did."  Jamie gave Madelyn a lopsided grin.  "Not being very helpful with the easy explanations, am I?"

"When are you ever?" she told him with a chuckle, before fishing her penlight out of her pocket. "So, no bumps to the head..." She flashed the light in his eyes, one after the other, noting the reaction. "Are these things just visual? You're not catching any odd noises? Smells?" Something like that could indicate some kind of brain disorder, although she was careful not to say that. Get the hard stuff eliminated first.

"Not that I can remember.  It's just . . . flickering, more than anything else.  Shadows going wonky."  Jamie blinked at the sudden light, but held still.  "And hey, I didn't ask to be a scientific anomaly.  Not my fault I defy explanation."  He grinned.  "Me and my Bob clusters are just going along, you know . . ."

"It could be your eyesight giving you problems... any eyestrain? Headaches?" Madelyn went through the basic check up, testing reflexes, checking his temperature, blood pressure and all the rest of it.

"Sometimes, if I play video games too long, but it always goes away when I reabsorb that dupe, and I've been too distracted lately to do much gaming."  Jamie glanced over toward the isolation wards.  "Um . . . how's Alison doing?"

Madelyn seemed to sag a little. "Not much of a change," she said. "She's not bleeding lasers any more, but we still can't let her out of the isolation room we've got her in." She didn't mention Alison was in pretty much constant pain still. "Moira's working with her a lot - there's not much she doesn't know about mutation - and she seems pretty hopeful Ali will be back withus in no time." She considered Jamie further. "I could run you through the MRI machine, make sure your brain's functioning normally - well, what passes for normal for you - but honestly? I think it's probably stress. We've been seeing all sorts of funky symptoms from people the last few weeks."

Jamie nodded heavily, sending another worried look toward the isolation rooms, then considered Madelyn's suggestion.  He was curious about the MRI, but . . . he shrugged.  "S' been a bad couple months--if you say it's stress, I'm not gonna disagree.  Got a prescription for me?"

"A nice relaxing day out away from this place with that lovely girlfriend of yours? She could use the break, and the two of you are good for each other's sanity. But if it's still giving you problems in a day or two, come back and I'll do all the gee whizz tests you can handle." Madelyn gave him a crooked smile. "Although I might get Moira to do those - she has a better handle on your brain chemistry than I do."

"I like the way you think, Doc."  Jamie grinned back.  "Careful, though, Doc MacTaggart tends to take it personal she can't figure out how I work."

"Better her taking it personally than me not getting it at all," Madelyn told him. "Besides, she takes it as a personal challenge, and she needs the distraction as much as the rest of us. We can't stop her from being in the lab, so we might as well give her fun things to do, hmm?"

Jamie snickered.  "I dunno if I'd call beating my head against a brick wall fun, but y'know, I'm not Scots, am I?  Thanks for the checkup, it's a real load off my mind."

"Not a problem. Fresh air and fun, remember. And if this is still going on in a day or two, I want you back here, all right?" Madelyn stressed the last part. "None of this fashionable waiting until you fall over."

Jamie saluted.  "Don't worry, ma'am, I got all that out of my system a good long time ago.  This keeps on, you'll be amazed how fast I'm back in here."  He hopped off the table, but paused on his way out.  "Can you let me know as soon as Alison's ready for--well, not visitors, but--we both got pretty good at sign language for Artie."

"Of course," Madelyn said. She glanced in the direction of the isolation ward. "As soon as she's up for it - I know she'll be glad to see you. Now, shoo. Go take Kitty away from all this."