xp_logs | Hand Me Down: Part 4

x-crowdofone.livejournal.com posting in

Friday afternoon: following this e-mail, Jamie talks to first Doug, then Alison, and makes up his mind.

Jamie leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes tiredly. He'd finally managed to send off the e-mail, let everybody know what was going on--he'd almost had to ask Kitty to press send for him, but he'd managed. Now she was off, ostensibly getting sandwiches--he figured she'd probably understood that actually meant "give people a chance to come talk to me alone," and wasn't quibbling about the excuse. Jamie smiled unconsciously; he really didn't think he'd be able to get through this without her.

Doug had received the email. He wasn't sure what to think about it, but he'd received it. He'd spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out what to think about it, and he still had nothing. So, after a while, he had decided to go down and talk to Jamie directly rather than continuing to sit in his room pondering himself in circles. He tapped hesitantly on the door to the the area of the Medlab where Jamie was. "Jamie?" he called softly.

Jamie opened his eyes and lifted his head. "Hey, Doug. C'mon in." He dialed for, and managed, an uncertain sort of smile. "I . . . guess from the way you know where I am, and all, that you got my message?"

Doug ran a hand through his hair and chuckled nervously. "Yeah, you could say that," he replied. "Not sure I know what to think about it, but I got it." He shook his head. "I wish I knew what kind of advice to give you, the right thing to say, man, but I just got nothing. I still don't even know how I feel about what happened when he was around last time."

"Don't think there's much to say, really. It's a mess and it's my mess." Jamie shrugged. "About all there is good about it is--well, at least now it's in the open, what I did, what happened. I'm . . . really sorry I didn't tell you before. Believe me, if it was anybody . . ."

"No, I understand, I guess," Doug replied. "Especially after what happened at the blood drive. Some things you'd just rather not talk about." He remembered how painful talking to everyone after the shooting had been. And Skippy had tried to kill Jamie and take over his life. Not something you really wanted to go about rehashing if you could help it.

"I just . . . well, I felt bad about it. Not telling you, and all. I mean, we never really talked about it, after it happened." Jamie paused. ". . . Do you want to now? I mean, anything you want to ask about, or something you want to tell me, or something?"

"I...I'm honestly not sure," Doug said after a moment. "I mean...I thought he had done something permanent to Alison and Nathan. I could blame what I did on the fact that cicada noise was driving me nuts, and that was part of it, but...an ugly side of me came out that day."

Jamie chuckled dryly. "I'd say you're not the only one, but that wouldn't be very funny. I . . ." He sighed. "Well, it wasn't a bed of roses getting to the point where he absorbed me, either. I don't even know how many . . . the quarry was an unholy mess, after." He cocked his head. "What happened?"

Doug shook his head. Trying to explain was...well, it was like pulling teeth, to be honest. "I taunted him," he said simply. "I got him with his own glove, knowing it would kill him, because I'd seen what happened to the dupe I put in a sleeper hold. And he was fuzzing out, and I was crouched down next to him so that the last thing he would see was me taunting him."

"Ah." Jamie leaned back, thinking. "Does it . . . would it help if I said, you weren't so much killing them as . . . Skippy's dupes, they were a lot less independent than mine ever have been, and that's even counting when they first started showing up and I couldn't make them unsynchronize. They were . . . just puppets, really, that he walked around and talked through. All you did was cut the strings."

"I dunno," Doug said uncertainly. "I mean, some of the people in the mansion, you know about their personalities. Like Sarah. Not to be mean about it, but she's very comfortable with violence and the fact that she has a body count. But after Skippy...I killed him, Jamie. Whether or not he was independent, I knew what that glove would do to him. And I taunted him...and god help me, I was pissed off that he wasn't going to suffer more for the things he had done." Doug folded his hands in front of him and stared at them.

"Well, that's the thing, though . . . it wasn't really doing anything to him. The dupes dying didn't bother him anymore, he'd been--" Jamie's mouth twisted. "They'd trained him out of that. And if you hadn't . . . then maybe he could've kept duping, out in the quarry, and God knows I couldn't've lasted much longer than I did." He smiled sadly. "Doug, man, I wish I knew what to say to make it better, I just . . . hell, he was a monster running around with my face and my voice, of course it messed you up running into him." Jamie cocked his head. "You talked to Doc Samson about this stuff yet?"

Doug nodded. "Yeah, I talked to him about it. And it helped, but I guess there's still some unresolved whatever floating around about it." He shook his head as if to clear it. "But that's not the important thing, really, man. The important thing is you, and whether you're going to be okay." He paused, worry showing on his face. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Hell if I know." Jamie sighed. "The Professor thinks this . . . memory integration thing is the best choice, and Kitty thinks I can handle it, but . . . I just don't know, man. I'm pretty much terrified here."

The only response Doug could come up with was to lean in and grasp Jamie's hand firmly in both of his. "I know, man, I know. But you've got all of us, and we'll do everything we can to see you through to the other side. You don't have to go through it alone." And that, really, was the difference between Jamie and Skippy, Doug mused to himself.

"That means a lot. I hope . . . you don't end up regretting it." Jamie's expression went dark. "This . . . if I go through with this, getting those memories back . . . what happened to him, it drove him insane. What's it going to do to me, when I remember it like it happened to me?"

Doug cocked his head in thought for a moment before responding. "Yeah, he was a psycho," he said after a few moments. "But like I said, you have us to balance it out. And...you know, even though he was doing his level best to kill you and take over your life...I almost felt sorry for him, y'know? In between the wrath and all. I mean, there but for the grace of God, Professor Xavier, and all of our friends here at the mansion...it could have been any of us, man. You can't blame yourself for the things Magneto did to break him. He would have broken any of us just as easily."

"I hear you, Doug, I just . . . I'm not sure you're hearing me." Jamie frowned thoughtfully. "Okay. Simple causality chain. Magneto has Skippy tortured until he breaks. Skippy goes insane. I get Skippy's memories, all nicely in order, in my head. In effect, Magneto has me tortured until I break, balanced . . . how much? I dunno . . . by all the simultaneous memories I have of being not-insane me. What do you think happens? Because I have no clue and most of the options scare me."

"No, I'm hearing you," Doug said softly. "I guess that I'm just trying to have faith that things will work out in the end. Just because you'll have his memories doesn't mean you'll turn into him. He tried to take over once, and you were strong enough to fight him. If push comes to shove, I think you're strong enough to do it again. And who knows?" he asked. "Maybe it'll help him rest a little easier."

"Everybody keeps telling me that," Jamie said with a flicker of a smile. "One datapoint does not a trend imply. And I thought he was resting already. Had a funeral and everything."

Nodding slowly, Doug shrugged. "Yeah, it's a big decision, and not much data to make it on. But I still think it's better, under controlled circumstances, to see what happens, rather than just sitting around pretending it's not a problem and then having it come back to bite you in the ass."

"Oh, it's a problem, I know that for damn sure. The only question is whether or not it's a problem I can live with, compared to the alternatives." Jamie leaned back against the wall again, resignation written in every line of his body. "Look, Doug, I--thanks for coming down to see me, man, I just . . . I need to think about this some more, do you mind?"

The resignation was easy to see, even for someone who wasn't Doug, and his forehead wrinkled a bit in worry before he nodded. "Okay. You take all the time you need, man. And whatever you need, I'll be there to support you, okay? And you let Kit take care of you, too." He got up from his chair and gave Jamie's arm one last reassuring pat before heading for the door quietly.

Hands in his pockets, Jamie shuffled up to the observation window, wincing as he caught a first sight of the isolation room. It was so bare. And no music, no sound . . . he nearly turned around, not wanting to give Alison any more burdens, but reached out to flick the signal light on instead. She deserved to hear about it from him in person. And . . . if he was being honest, he wasn't sure he could go through with this not knowing what Alison thought he should do, not unless there wasn't any chance he could find out.

He slumped into the visitor's chair and waited for her to notice the light.

Outside. Whoever had come to visit was outside the room, on the other side of the observation window. She thought she could stand to look outside the room and not consider trying to break through it again, so Alison peered over the edge for a moment, before pulling herself up. Jamie. She rested both hands on the window and kept them there despite the reflex to flinch away - the synthsilk was heping some, and her hands didn't hurt as much as if they'd been bare.

Jamie brushed his fingers across the window briefly, opposite her hands, smiling wanly, but pulled them away before very long--they'd told him it was bad for the sound suppressors if there was pressure from both sides. And he needed his fingers, anyway, if he was going to talk.

~Hi,~ he signed, reminding himself to thank Artie if . . . everything turned out. ~How are you feeling? Are you okay to talk about something?~

She nodded a bit in response to the first question, hands moving away from the window slowly. ~Read email.~ Alison was using short words she knew, cutting out a lot of the signs needed to make the sentence structure smooth - Jamie would know why, though.

That made things easier. He'd rehearsed an explanation of the situation in case she hadn't, and it had left his fingers sore and tired. ~What do you--~ He fumbled, fingers trembling for a moment, before he clenched his fists and forced them to be still. ~What do you think I should do?~

She was in a cage with an unlocked door and chose not to leave it, until they told her she could. ~Free.~ She spoke the word, eyes brimming with tears, signing it as well the moment after. ~Not alone.~ She shivered, leaned against the window to hide it. ~Strong.~ She pointed at Jamie, and offered him a trembling smile. ~You. Are. Strong.~

~I don't feel strong,~ Jamie confessed. ~Afraid. Broken, or breaking.~ He tapped one temple, a bitter twist tinging his smile. ~But not alone, no.~ He took a shaky breath. ~You think I should do it. You, Kitty, the Professor. You don't--~ Jamie shuddered. ~There wasn't a me left. Just a voice in his head. Not a voice. Just a thought, trying to get out. Then I did, and he was the thought, trying to get in. And now I should let him?~ Jamie shook his head. ~Free. How free will I be with his life in my head?~ He paused, then went on, hands shaking so much the signs were barely intelligible. ~How free will I be if he's the strong one?~

~Part of you.~ Concentrating on the gestures he was making had been hard - they kept reminding her of a bird in flight. Wings in the wind. Free. The wind blowing- she shook her head, concentrating on the glass window and the boy on the other side. ~He was lost once too. Innocent. Basic.~ She didn't have the word for pattern and she rapped her knuckles on the window idly while trying to find a good way to say it, the brief flares of pain going unnoticed each time. Everything already hurt anyway. ~Before that one had him.~ She refused to use the sign for metallic, hand gesture violently isntead. ~He was yours. Part of you. Always. Bring him back home? Heart wide open. You are so strong. So much more than you know.~ She was crying by now, tears streaming down her cheeks, burning hot. ~Faith.~

~Why?~ Jamie's gestures were sharp, angry, but he wouldn't meet Alison's eyes, keeping his own on her hands. ~He was a killer. Hurt people. Hurt you. Why should he get a home?~ Tears were rolling down his cheeks, now. ~I don't want him to be part of me! I'm not him!~

~Someone hurt him. Twisted him.~ Magneto's voice was ringing in her ears, telling her how some had to be sacrificed for the good of mutant kind. ~Used. Broken.~ She shivered, stopping despite herself, hands hurting from the intricate gestures. But they had to be clear and strong, Jamie had to understand. It was so wide when you looked outside the viewing window, so much room to move. So much more space than in the small room she had been in for what seemed like forever.

~But he was from you first. Yours. Reclaim. Make things right.~

~What if~ The fear was back, burying the anger again. ~What happens if I do, and he twists me?~

~Strong.~ It took her a moment to realise she was crooning the word to herself, instead of signing it. ~Strong.~ Alison smiled at him, a raw look in her eyes. ~You. Can. Do. This.~ Each crafted carefully, the motion of her own hands catching her attention as she drew them out, the gestures light and airy isntead of slow and trembling as they'd been before. ~Not. Alone.~

Jamie made as if to answer, but then something about the way Alison held her hands made him take a good look at the rest of her, for almost the first time since he'd come in. All alone in an empty room. Not even able to hear her own voice. What was it costing her in pain to stand there and try to reassure him, and all just because he'd asked her to?

Her power had turned on her, too, he reminded himself. And she wasn't giving up just because she was afraid of what it would take to fix things. She was doing what she had to, and still had enough left over to care about him.

Jamie didn't know what she saw when she looked at him, where she was getting the idea he was strong when all he wanted to do was curl up in a dark corner somewhere. But maybe . . . maybe not knowing wasn't an excuse for not trying. And he knew--when he was being honest with himself, he knew--that this wasn't a problem that would go away if he hid his head under the pillows. This was something he had to face, just like Alison had to face that empty room.

He stared down at his hands, a little ashamed, trying to figure out how to tell her. "Thank you" wasn't enough. "I'm sorry" was . . . wrong. He looked back up at her as the words came, his shoulders straightening unconsciously.

~You're not alone either. You can do this--~ and his gesture indicated the white walls. ~And I can do~ He paused. ~I can.~

The raw look in her eyes intensified, blind fear piercing through for a moment before she bowed her head, leaning on the window once more. It was too much, the absence of noise starting to catch up with her steadily. Hands pressed flat on the glass she looked up once more, fresh tears spilling over - the thin veneer of control still holding, for now. ~Ok.~ She mouthed the words in silence, giving him an unsteady smile while her hands pushed against the window to try and still the trembling that was taking over again. Resisting the urge to sink down to the floor and hide at least until Jamie was gone.

Jamie pressed his hands against hers, for a moment, on the other side of the glass--not quite heedless of the warning about the sound suppressor, but hoping they'd built it with good tolerances. ~Wish I could go in there for a hug,~ he signed. ~I'll come see you again, after, if I can?~

Something wailed in desolation in the back of her mind, the sentiment shuttered from her eyes although she had no idea how. ~Wish too.~ Somehow, the words were signed for him clearly, the urge to strike at the window until it broke stifled at the very last instant. ~Yes. Visit.~ If she was able to think straight, if any of her beloved captors allowed it, if she hadn't given in to the temptation of finding a way to just stop it all now...

~You helped me,~ Jamie signed, suddenly intent, aware something was wrong but not sure what. ~Hold on to that. You looked over, and you saw I was hurting too, and you gave me a boost up and out.~ Fresh tears trickled down his cheeks. ~I wish I could do that for you too. This won't be forever and I'll come back, I promise.~

He backed toward the door awkwardly, nearly tripping on the chair. In the doorway, he paused, turning back, making sure his gestures were exaggerated enough to be clear over the distance. ~You're strong too. Stronger than that room.~ He cocked his head, then shrugged--this wasn't the time for jokes, and it's not like he knew the sign for "platonic" anyway, so he contented himself with a simple ~I love you,~ the first sign he'd ever learned.

It was hard to follow the motions of his hands while seeing him to near the door, free to go where he wished, the desperate need for the same and everything that outside meant nearly dragging a scream from her. Instead, Alison nodded slowly, answering him after a few moments. Hand to lips, then over the heart, and then back on the window again. Stubbornly fixed on him and not above his shoulder, not daring to look at something she couldn't have.

Jamie caught the edges of Alison's turmoil, confirming his suspicions, and fresh tears started as he slipped out the door. He couldn't quite regret the visit and the perspective it had given him, and that just made him feel worse, as if he'd bought his newfound resolve with Alison's pain.

She'd get better, he reminded himself. They both would. And he'd find a way to make it up to her.