xp_logs | Jay & Doc Samson

It was bound to happen eventually: Jay finally has his first therapy session. It goes better than Paige's first meeting did, at least.

Let it not be said that Paige is the only Guthrie concerned with therapy-etiquette. Jay had gone to great lengths to make himself presentable for Doctor Samson. After all the fuss he'd made, he reckoned that he ought to at least dress for the occasion. While he hadn't gone quite as far as donning his church clothes, he was wearing a pair of recently-cleaned and pressed jeans and a new grey Xavier's Institute sweatshirt, customized by Clarice to accommodate his wings.

He assumed that this was like any other doctor's visit, so he stood outside Samson's office until the scheduled time, waiting to be called in. Between Paige's angry ranting and Forge's praise of the man, Jay had no idea what to expect of him. So he just leaned against the wall opposite the door to his office and waited.

Promptly on time, Doctor Samson's door opened, and the good doctor himself appeared, tall, bearded and red-headed. "Mr. Guthrie," he said with a welcoming 'new patient' smile - not too enthusiastic, but not threatening. "Won't you come in?"

"Ah guess so," mumbled Jay, walking in and sitting down on the seat across from Samson's desk. He looked around the room, and was pleased to not find any degrees or licenses for reparative therapy by Exodus International or one of its ilk. Unsure of what to say, he just sat and waited to the doctor to begin.

Taking a seat behind his desk, since that was what Jay obviously felt more comfortable with him doing, to judge by his choice of seat, Samson took in the young man's body language, the tone of his voice. Nervous, but no more so than most new patients. Certainly not the degree of anxiety he'd picked up in Paige. His affect was slightly depressed, not clinically so and that was to be expected given the history he'd been shown... "I'll give you the usual introductory part, and then we can talk about why you're here, shall we?" At Jay's nod, he went on. "My name's Leonard Samson, you can call me Leonard, or Doctor Samson, whatever you prefer. I might take notes during our conversation, but only as an aid for my memory - they certainly don't go on any files, or get read by anyone else. And if my taking notes makes you uncomfortable, I don't have to do it at all." There was a slight stress on the word 'conversation', emphasising the non-clincal aspect of these sorts of sessions - Madelyn had mentioned the assumption that a psychiatrist meant crazy. "I've been given some information into your personal circumstances, but I prefer to hear it from you, so I may ask you some questions, but over all, what we talk about is up to you."

"Whatever you say, sir," Jay replied with a shrug, lifting himself up from the seat briefly so he could sit cross-legged on the seat, his feet beneath him. "So. Shoot with the questions and Ah'll answer 'em." Yeah, definitely not thrilled to be there. But he was doing it because he knew deep down that it had to be done. Not that he'd readily admit it, but still.

Hmm, interesting combination of reluctance and resignation - the fact Jay had made himself comfortable was an indication he wasn't going to be fleeing any time soon. "Doctor Bartlet sent me a referral, and she mentioned you didn't like the idea of coming to talk to me. Why is that? Because I'm a shrink or because I'm another strange adult prying into your affairs, or both?"

"Yes" was the reply, with an ever-so-slight grin that disappeared as soon as the word left his mouth. "'Cuz crazy people go see shrinks, and Ah know Ah ain't crazy. Maybe a bit touched and mah rocker ain't on right, but but no loonier than anyone else here." Which, on second thought, was much loonier than the population in general.

"I can tell you now, I don't think you're crazy. At least not from first appearances." Samson grinned a little. "A lot of people come and see me, just to talk, or for advice on ways to deal with things, and it doesn't make them crazy in the slightest." He considered the not-exactly-convinced expression on Jay's face and tried another tack, one he had full permission to use. "Would you consider Doctor Bartlet crazy?"

"She's normal and yet she works here," Jay said, as if the answer were obvious from that statement alone. "Are you a mutie or not? 'Cuz if not, then Ah'm thinkin' you're a bit off, too." Jay hoped this wasn't the blind leading the blind.

"I don't have powers, no," Samson said, curious by this new definition of insanity. "Why would being 'normal', as you put it, and working here mean I wasn't exactly sane myself?

"Why would a normal human put 'imself through the hell of a mutie school?" Jay retorted, his tone both curious and condescending. "Iffn ya ain't got ties to any muties, then ya ain't settin' yourself up for none of the shit we seem ta get into all the time. Ah think that iffn ya ain't got reason ta be here then ya should spare yourself the trouble."

"There's a lot that goes on here, yes," Samson agreed. "But not all of it is trouble, and there would be those that would say segregation is not the way to foster positive mutant-human relationships. Those of us who choose to live or work here who don't have a mutant power, we do so because we believe we fill a need that outstrips matters of genetics. This can be a stressful environment, given the trouble that does happen here, and people need an outlet, a listening ear, if you will. I provide that."

"Ah ain't sayin' that we don't need help or that segregation is good," Jay clarified, "S'just, why come here of all places iffn ya don't got to? Lord knows it wasn't mah idea ta leave home for this place." Jay almost smacked his face with his palm as he said this, realizing the opening he just gave Samson. Now they'd actually have to talk.

"There's many students here who could say the same thing," Samson said. "As much as we hope for better things, it's a sad fact that there aren't that many facilities for dealing with the needs of mutants, especially young ones. Xavier's is pretty much unique in that regard - there are plenty of schools that cannot teach students about their powers, and many hospitals and the like that are equipped to deal with powers, but cannot educate." He tilted his head at Jay - he'd been given the opening, and he wasn't about to leave it. "You say you were sent here, against your wishes? I was led to believe your family didn't have a problem with the fact three of you are mutants."

Backing out and running away, as attractive an option as it was, wasn't feasible. If the window was open a little bit wider he might have managed to jump out and fly to safety . . . With a sigh, Jay replied honestly. "Mah Mama ain't got no problem with it. She's just got a problem with me. She didn't want ta deal with me after everythin' that happened, so she sent me here. Said it was for mah own good, that it'd be better for me here than back at home with mah family." Jay's resentment of his mother and her decision was almost palpable.

It was obvious Jay had ties with his family, otherwise he wouldn't resent the decision so much. "Why problems with you in particular?" Samson asked, although he knew full well what sort of problems Mrs. Guthrie had been facing.

"Ah thought'cha said they gave ya information about me. All the stuff with . . ." Jay almost said "Kev" but couldn't bring himself to say his name in front of a complete stranger, even if he was there to help him. He wanted to keep it to himself, keep it private, just a little longer. "With what happened in August," he finished. "When some people hurt me, and then Ah hurt mahself."

"They did, but I'd also prefer to hear your version," Samson reminded him gently. They hadn't really established the kind of rapport required for that amount of trust, although Jay had been relatively forthcoming. "There's quite a few children in your family, yes? And your mother's alone - you don't think that perhaps she felt your circumstances were more than she felt she could handle? Especially given the fact you'd tried to... hurt yourself before?" The hesitation before the euphemism was deliberate - true, Jay had been unsuccessful due to his mutation, but a suicide attempt was rather more than an attempt to hurt oneself, unless you considered it the permanent sort of hurting. And Jay needed to own up to the fact it had been that serious. Without the healing factor, he would have been dead. "The sort of desperation that drives someone to something like that - it's out of the experience of most ordinary people."

"So, what, she's supposed'ta just gid rid of me 'cuz she can't handle me?" Jay asked hotly. "Ah'm too much of a burden, so shippin' me off to some fuckin' mutie school is the way ta go?" He unfolded his legs from under him and leaned forward, as if making ready to get up. "Ah don't give a flyin' fuck about 'experience.' She's my mama, she ain't supposed ta . . . ta abandon me!" And that's what it was, really. Lucinda had abandoned Jay, just like everyone else did. When he needed her the most, she just absolved herself of all responsibility.

Apparently the temper was a Guthrie trait... "Is it abandonment to send someone away for help when keeping them with you might result in them taking their own life?" Samson said quietly. "Faced with what had been done to you, and what you'd done to yourself, and without knowing how effective your healing factor was, don't you think your mother did the only thing she thought she could to keep you alive?"

"No. She did it for herself." Of that, Jay was sure. She didn't want him around anymore, having to take care of a broken son, so she got rid of him. "Ah got plenty of brothers and sisters. Don't matter none if one of 'em's fucked up, right? Ah already disappointed her once, anyway, since Ah can't give her no grandkids. What difference does it make if Ah ain't up ta snuff? S'better ta just get rid of the mistake and make sure the young'uns don't end up like me."

Add dogmatic thinking to the Guthrie personality. He was absolutely convinced he was right, and unfortunately Samson hadn't had the chance to speak to Mrs. Guthrie himself to show him otherwise. Given the family history, he doubted the truth of that statement. "Did she tell you that?" he asked, making a note to find out what he could about the family situation. Perhaps Sam would be able to give an unbiased account, given Paige's opinion of him. "Or perhaps one of your siblings told you?"

"Naw, all she said was that comin' here is for mah own good." Jay sat back in the chair, arms folded across his chest defiantly. "That she ain't 'equipped ta deal with what Ah'm goin' through, but Xavier's has all the resources Ah could ever want,' or some tripe like that. That maybe she leaned on me too much after Pa died and Sam and Paige left, that she's supposed'ta take care of me and this is how she's gotta do it. Which is horse shit, iffn ya ask me."

"Does she make a habit of that? Lying to you?" Samson asked, making another note on his pad. Definite issues with the family.

"She don't have ta be a compulsive liar ta tell untruths every once in a while. Iffn ya ask me, lyin' like that was the only way ta get me outta the house and up here so she wouldn't haveta worry about me no more," Jay said with certainty. "Ends justify the means, y'know. Lie ta me, make me think this is for mah benefit, and get me out so I ain't her burden."

"What about Sam and Paige? Did she send them here to get rid of them as well?"

"Oh no," Jay replied, shaking his head and laughing like Samson was crazy. "They wanted ta come here. Ah don't remember how they found out about this place, but Sam was just itchin' ta come here when he did. And Paige? Ya talked ta her, right? She tried so hard ta become a mutant just so's she could come here."

"Hmm." Samson let that hang, gave Jay a questioning look. "Perhaps it's something you should talk about with them, why they're here, why you're here. Perhaps they could help convince your mother that perhaps home is a better place for you after all. If you hate it here so much, that is." He leaned back in his chair, the picture of non-threatening-ness. "Did it help, talking to me today? Answer some questions for you?"

Talking to Sam wasn't high up on his list of things he liked to do, and talking to Paige about something serious, while not as painful, ranked just above getting a tooth pulled. As for the other question, Jay shrugged. "Ah guess. A little bit."

"Well, I'm not going to go so far as to insist, but if you think it would help, to talk things out you can't talk to anyone else about... well, you know where I am now." Leaving it entirely up to Jay was a good thing, considering the certain amount of issues he had with people determining his life for him. "Personally I think it might help, but that's entirely up to you."

"Maybe," Jay replied non-commitaly, taking this as an invitation to get up and leave. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic and generally uncomfortable, he politely shook Samson's hand (let it not be said, either, that Jay is not a gentleman). "Thanks, Doc."