xp_logs | Jay & Moira, Forge

Set a little bit later this morning.

Jay wakes up in the medlab, and Moira helps him get his bearings straight. She tries to get him to tell her what happened, but he refuses to give the details. Jay also demands the right to doctor-patient confidentiality, and Moira has no choice but to follow that.

The first thing Jay felt when he woke up was a tightness around his chest. The second thing was the lack of feeling in his wings. The third thing was the needle in his arm, spitting some liquid into his system. Opening his eyes, Jay saw why he was feeling like this. He was lying down on a cot in the medlab, his chest wrapped in bandages and his wings immobilized. A feeding tube was stuck into his arm. "Fuck," he swore hoarsely, as the memories of the previous night came back to him. His body ached, and lifting himself so he was sitting up in the bed was so painful that he nearly blacked out.

When the machines went slightly nuts, Moira knew immediately that Jay was awake and trying to move. She'd sent Jean and Hank to bed for some real deserved rest, content to watch over the lad as he slept. They had expected him to be out for much longer but with his healing factor, it really wasn't that much of a surprise. "Jay?" she called out, heading over to him, medical kit in one hand just in case.

Jay blinked and wiped the crud out of his eyes, trying to focus on his surroundings. It was the same stark bright metallic white he remembered it. It hurt. He closed his eyes again and lay back down. He'd try to get up again once he got his strength back.

He heard someone call his name, but he couldn't identify it. Opening his eyes again, he saw a big blur of red and gasped in surprise. Which had him hugging his chest in pain, as his broken ribs pressed against his lungs. "Terry?" he called out weakly, naming the first redhead who came to mind. Please let it not be her, he silently prayed. Don't need anyone else to hate me . . .

"Close," she said, softly, helping him slowly unclench from the fetal position he was trying to get himself into. "'Tis Dr. MacTaggart. Jay, yer in th' MedLab an' ye need ta relax as hard as tha' may sound right now." Oh, he had been worked over but good, Moira noticed, taking in his injuries from a closer perspective now. The pager on her hip reminded her that if Jay started to backslide physically, she'd be able to get one of the MD's down quickly.

MacTaggart? Okay, not Terry. And therefore, not someone who'd be angry with him. Well, until she knew what actually happened. Then she'd have the right. "Can't relax. Hurts too much," he whimpered, aggitating his chest injury even further as he weakly tried to twist out of Moira's grasp.

Reaching over, she turned the medication in the drip up a notch, trying to sooth him as much as possible. "It'll hurt less if ye relax, I promise," she told him, keeping a close eye on the heart monitor. Jay might have a healing factor but it was probably running on it's last legs right about now.

Jay heard a click as Moira upped his meds, and then felt a wave of relief pour over him. He still hurt like the dickens, he was at least able to get out of the fetal position and relax a bit, which relieved him even more. Mmm, drugs. He needed more of those. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"Nay a problem. I'd ask how ye were feelin' but that’s a verra stupid one right now. Jay, what happened last night?" Moira busied herself with readjusting the bed and sheets and checking on the readouts. The machines were settling down as he did, that was a relief.

She had to ask that, Jay thought bitterly. Couldn't she just tell him to take care of himself and then let him out. "Walked down the wrong alley," he replied curtly, looking away from Moira. "Got jumped. The end."

Immediately, her eyebrows jumped. "Nay somethin' ye want ta talk about, I'd guess?" she said simply.

"Naw," he said, adjusting his position on the bed so he could breathe comfortably. "Don't really need ta talk none 'bout it. Ah was stupid, couldn't defend mahself, and here Ah am."

"This should help," Moira commented, raising the bed just a tad. They hadn't had to worry about that when he was asleep. But moving around would make it more difficult and the slight height adjustment would probably help. "So...police?" Considering his previous reaction, this one was probably easy to guess.

"No," came the answer. Jay's voice was hard and resolute. "No cops, no detectives, no vigilantes, no nuthin'. Don't need nobody gettin' involved. S'between me and mahself." Hopefully that would be the end of that. Pressing charges would be a waste of everyone's time, and it wouldn't do any good anyway. It wouldn't do a thing to lessen homophobia or anti-mutant bigotry, so there's no point.

"Jay, look at me for a second."

He turned his head and looked at her for a second, before turning his eyes away. "What?"

Moira nodded and sighed. "Obviously, tis between more than ye an' yerself because yerself dinnae beat th' livin' crap out o' ye." She paused, tilting her head down slightly. "I'll respect yer decision. I willnae like it, mind ye, an' I think ye should press charges. Professor Xavier will be told but he will also be told o' yer wishes."

Jay opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it and kept silent. Yes, Xavier would have to know. There was no getting around that. But no one else did. "Fine. Tell 'im whatever. But don't tell no one else." He finally managed to look up at Moira and didn't flinch away. "Please. Tell the other docs, tell the prof, but not nobody else. 'Specially not Paige or Sam."

"Tha' important to ye, aye?" Another sigh and she nodded, feeling something inside of her grumble a bit. But there still was patient-doctor confidentiality, even in the situation like the school. Most of the time it was waved, wasn't really needed but when it was asked for, Moira felt bound to follow it.

"Ah don't . . ." Jay began, then bit his lip to stop himself. He was going to say that he didn't want anyone to know because they would think poorly of him for such poor judgment on his part, and his lack of ability to defend himself. He put himself in that situation so he deserved what he got. He'd come to that realization, but he didn't want anyone else to. "Yeah. S'important ta me. Ya fix me up, Ah get outta here, the end."

Moira gaze flicked back up to him sharply and she gave him a pointed look. "Yer a smart, lad, Jay so I know ye know tha' tis nay 'the end', as ye put it. I'll hold up ta wha' ye ask o' me but I think we bot' know tha's nay th' end o' it." Taking a deep breath, she let it back out. "Yer healin' factor took quite a strain. I've seen this before, obviously, so it may be a while before 'tis back up ta full strengt'."

"S'not like this never happened ta me before," Jay said grimly. "Ah know the drill. Ah stuff mahself ta recharge, and Ah'll be good as new. Can Ah get outta here now please?"

A few minutes drifted away as Moira checked a few things, including the notes the other doctors of the Doctors Four had left her before nodding. Much to Jay's apparent relief. "Under a few conditions. Yer wings are heavily damaged, ye'll want ta restrict their movements until they've healed. Yer ribs are on their way ta mended but be careful wit' them. An' I want ye ta stick around for a wee bit once yer up an' dressed so Dr. McCoy or Dr. Grey or Dr. Bartlet can double check ye, aye?"

"Aye," he repeated, hoping that they'd get there soon so he could get the hell out of the medlab. "Can't really feel mah wings anyway, so there ain't much problem wif me usin' 'em." Once Moira had removed the various tubes and electrodes from his arms and chest, Jay began the long laborious process to getting to his feet. His vision swam as his feet touched the ground, and he narrowly avoided falling over, grabbing onto the bed to maintain his balance.

Carefully, she helped him stabilize. "Lots an' lots o' food and rest for ye," Moira said firmly but gently, knowing he already knew it but it had to be said. "An' I've got some clothes o' yers in the next room. Figured ye'd need them eventually."

"Thanks," Jay mumbled, slowly making his way to the other room so he could dress. He ignored the shirt because the hassle of putting it on wasn't worth it. Clad just in his jeans, he went back to the other room and waited. This would be over soon, he had to remind himself, so it wouldn't be long before he could leave and just be alone. He didn't want anyone else around him, and he didn't need anyone else around him, because that only brought him trouble.

While Jay had gotten dressed, Moira had left for a few minutes only to return with a tray of food. Not saying anything, because it was obvious the boy wanted to be left alone, she put the tray down near him. Pausing for a second to lay a hand gently on his shoulder, she headed out of the room, paging the doctors and letting them know that their patient was awake and ready for someone to take a look at him.

Once he's let out of the infirmary, Jay returns to his room to do what he does best: brood. But Forge doesn't let him, and tries to convince him that he needs to fight back.

Forge carefully closed the door to his suite, dropping his bag as gently as he could on his bed. Dr. Grey had said that Jay had been released out of the medlab and given the events of the other night, Forge figured on a significantly higher-than-zero chance that his roommate was holed up and brooding. Understandably so, he reasoned, but still. No way his friend was going through this on his own.

Knocking gently, Forge leaned his forehead against Jay's door. "Hey Jay, it's me," he announced quietly. "Mind if I come in?"

As soon as he had been permitted to, Jay had left the infirmary and rushed up to his room. Well, not so much rushed as painfully ambled. His chest still hurt, and he was told that even with his healing factor it would be a few days before his broken ribs reassembled themselves. And his wings . . . he didn't even want to think of them. He didn't want to think much of anything, really, and not for the first time today cursed his healing factor. For all that Jay thought poorly of people who drink, the thought of getting wasted was enticing. A shame that his body would process the alcohol before it could affect him.

So instead he tried to sleep, hoping that the calm oblivion of the dream world would distract him from the searing agony his broken body and his memories put him through. Sleep was hard to come by, though, because no matter how he lay down, his ribs continued to hurt.

When Jay heard the knock at the door, he decided at first to just ignore it. But then he heard Forge's voice. Jay couldn't ignore Forge, not after what had happened. He owed his friend much more than that. Slowly getting up from his bed, he trudged over to his door, unlocked it and opened it. Wordlessly, he stepped aside so Forge could come in.

Looking at Jay, Forge shoved his hands in his pockets and winced. Even with most of the superficial cuts and scrapes healed and the bruises faded to almost nothingness, it was easy to tell Jay was in some serious pain. "Hey," he started to say, then trailed off, looking at his feet. "Good to see you're up and around. Was worried about you. Dr. Grey wouldn't let me in the medlab after we brought you in."

Jay shrugged, then winced himself, the movement agitating his immobilized wings. "Yeah. M'sorry." Jay sat back down on his bed, looking down at his bare feet. "Didn't mean ta worry you none."

"Ain't fair, really," Forge said semi-cheerfully. "Both you and Kyle get healing factors and bounce back, while if I even get a teeny cold, I'm flat on my butt for a week. Damn genetics." Seeing the lack of reaction to his attempt at humor, he sighed and sat down on top of Jay's desk. "So when's your next performance?"

Jay scoffed at that, and immediately regretted that. He gingerly rubbed his bandaged chest. "Ain't gonna be another performance."

Forge's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Bullshit there isn't!" he spat. "You heard the reaction you got, they were loving you, man. Just, I mean, give it time or something..." he looked around awkwardly, trying not to focus on how hurt Jay looked sitting there. "People are starting to ask what happened. Far as I know, Terry hasn't said anything. I don't know if she knows the whole bit of it anyway. I swear, if I could find that son of a bitch..."

Jay didn't have the energy for this. He appreciated Forge's sympathy and company, but why did they have to talk about this? "Dun't matter how much they liked the show or anythin'. Ah can't do it no more. Not if this is what Ah get for followin' mah heart." Yeah, maybe that was a little too melodramatic, but that didn't make it any less true. He'd done what his heart told him to, and he was nearly killed for it. If not for a freak accident of nature, he probably would have been. "An' iffn ya could find 'im, ya wouldn't do nuthin'. Let it go."

"Let it GO?" Forge yelled, jumping to his feet. "Look, I know what it's like taking something like that. I know you don't want to talk about it. But Jesus, Jay - Tommy nearly killed you. He burns down a building just because we hung out there. He weasels close to Terry for god knows what purpose, then takes you out and stomps you to the curb for what? Being a mutant? Being gay? Being different?" He threw his hands up in frustration. "I may not know what you're going through and I ain't going to pretend I know what it's like, but you've got nothing to be ashamed of. You can't let this beat you."

"Ya know what it's like takin' somethin' like this?" Jay asked, finally looking up at Forge. His expression was a curious combination of pain, anger, and outright misery. "Bull shit you do. This ain't the first time someone tried ta kill me 'cuz Ah'm a mutie or a fag or both. Hell, Ah shoulda died the first time. Maybe this is just God's way of sayin' that Ah ain't on the right track, that iffn Ah continue livin' like this then hell will be too good for me." Jay snorted derisively and looked away again. "Nuthin' ta be ashamed of. Right."

"God didn't take you out in that alley and kick the shit out of you," Forge insisted, "the blame there lies solely with one bigoted asshole. Not with God, and definitely not with you. No, I don't know what it's like to get the shit kicked out of me by a bunch of homophobes. When I was getting pushed down stairs or thrown into a wall on a regular basis, I didn't even know I was a mutant. I just happened to be the weird quiet kid who didn't know how to speak up or fight back. But guess what?" Forge pounded his fist on the desk, the noise echoing through the room. "I'm still here. They didn't break me, no matter what I thought. And this can't break you, Jay. Shit, you're ten times as strong as I've ever had to be. You've got a gift, and it's not just your music. You let bastards like Tommy break that and, well..." he just shrugged and let it drop.

Jay jumped at the sound of Forge's fist slamming the wooden desk. Another sudden movement that had him rubbing his chest again. "Everyone's always sayin' how Ah'm an abominaton before God," Jay replied, his voice flat and emotionless. "'Cuz Ah'm a mutant, 'cuz Ah'm gay. But what if they're right? What if Ah really am just some freak that got put down here so the big man upstairs could have his giggles? Ah could cut off these wings, and Ah could stop bein' gay, and maybe lead a normal life like everyone says Ah should. Get married, have two point five kids, live in the 'burbs in a house with a white picket fence . . ." Jay shook his head again. He couldn't deny how ridiculous that all sounded.

Forge snorted at the image. "That's not you and you know it. Four hundred years ago, the church said science was an abomination before God. Along with things like reason, free will, and mixing meat and dairy. So what? You need to stop worrying about what someone tells you God thinks," he pointed up, then at Jay, "and start figuring out what Joshua Guthrie thinks. And if you think you're some kind of loser abominable freak, well, join the club. We'll get t-shirts made."

"Ah thought Ah could be me," Jay said, his eyes stuck on his feet again. If he looked at Forge, whom Jay knew was absolutely right no matter how much he didn't want him to be, he'd fall apart. It was hard enough staying in one piece as it was. "Ah did. Ah went out, charmed people outta their socks, made 'em scream for me and left 'em wantin' more. And Ah found a fella who looked like everythin' Ah coulda wanted. And how did that end up? Forge, Ah can't do that again. Ah survived twice. But what if next time Ah go out and do what Ah want, Ah finally do end up dead in a gutter?"

"It could be any one of us, Jay," Forge said quietly. "I don't know what it's like dealing with the stuff you've got to, but I know more than my share about being afraid. Doc Samson just cut back my meds, but up until a few weeks ago, I was on a damn chemical cocktail to keep my lungs from seizing up and my heart from exploding every time I got stressed about someone raising their voice around me. Yeah, I could just isolate myself in the lab all the time where it's safe and no one can hurt me. But you know what? That really sucks." He looked at Jay, trying to meet his roommate's eyes. "It really does, man. And this is probably gonna hurt for a while, I don't know how long. But you'll get back in the saddle..." Back in the saddle, BRILLIANT, Forge felt an idea coming together, but pushed it to the side of his brain and continued. "You'll beat this, Jay. And if you can't do it on your own, well, that's what your friends are for, right? You guys didn't let me forget. We're not about to let you down either."

Reaching out cautiously, he touched Jay lightly on the foot, trying to provide some form of reassurance through contact. "When you want to come out of this room and see the outside world, we'll be waiting. But until then, I'll be coming back until you come out on your own, okay?"

Jay would later wryly congratulate himself that he'd stayed together until the end of the conversation. But Forge's words of compassion, of friendship, of admiration were too much for his already fragile state of mind. Sniffling, he wiped away a tear from his eye and nodded. And then when he felt Forge's hand touch him . . . physical contact seemed to be the one thing that he couldn't handle at all. His lip trembled, and he hugged himself in an attempt at self-consolation so he wouldn't bawl like a baby.

He was even almost successful.

Without realizing it, Forge found himself sitting next to Jay, one arm carefully over his shoulders, trying not to nudge his bandaged wings. "It's all right, man," he said quietly. "It'll be all right."

Jay buried his face against Forge's shoulder, shaking as he sobbed silently and uncontrollably, holding tightly onto Forge and ignoring the protests from his ribs and wings. He didn't think that it would be alright. Nothing was alright after August, so things definitely couldn't be alright now.

But Forge was there, and that'd make things at least partially right.