maskormenacelogs | Catchall for July

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Catchall for July

WHO: Charles Xavier, Charles!clone and You!
WHERE: A bit of everywhere.
WHEN: July
WHAT: Meetings, powers training, random encounters, clone-a-rama.
WARNINGS: TBA, Charles clone is likely to use telepathy without IC consent. Here is my telepathy permission post if you want to opt out of that.

MEET CHARLES

a. home, still at Nonah
Charles lives in Nonah, in individual housing with Erik, Jean and Wanda. It's a two story building but with no stairs at the front and no thresholds that would make it hard to navigate with a wheelchair. If he has invited you into his home, he'll be waiting with a pot of tea and a tin of cookies. But if you're a chance visitor, he will welcome you just as warmly.

He's gathering his bearings finally and actually made a home for himself in the bedroom that used to be his, claimed some space around the house by piles of books often forgotten onto the tables and good scotch in a reachable cupboard in the kitchen. He's no longer red as a lobster what was going on after the beach episode of Swear-ins and Erik finally convinced him to have a haircut. Gone is the mullet and back is the 60's floppy hair-do. You might even catch him wearing a t-shirt, maybe with an X-men logo on it or a silly slogan, he got a few of those from Fanport.

Let's have a cup of tea or a game of chess, or just good conversation.

b. powers training at the danger room / Maria-Francis Foundation
The Maria-Francis Foundation building resides in ~~Nonah~~ De Chima. In the basement there is a wide space that Erik has been working with all month to get up and running as a powers training centre. The building is modern and tall, and Charles has taken a habit of waiting the people he's made appointments with at the front lobby.

He's excited to get the actual training started, get those hours in and grind some practice into people who have contacted him.

If you're not here for powers training, you can find him in the office, going through the Foundation's paperwork. You're damn right he's snooping on his own business. What of it?

c. interview, wherever seems convenient
Perhaps you're meeting him in a cafe or a park, he'll even agree to go the beach if that's convenient for you. What he's interested in is learning about what you have to say after all. Charles is very curious about what has aspired in this world before his time and how to put the details together into a cohesive picture in his mind.

He's quick to greet you with a smile and a warm handshake. Please, sit down. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee first? Do you mind if he makes some quick notes while you're discussing?

d. wildcard
Would you like something else? Perhaps run into him in the library or find him feeding pigeons one fine morning in the park? Maybe he was supposed to come to you? Are you having a dinner out? Are you one of the people he keeps an eye on and something is going awfully wrong? He would find a way to contact you. Throw me a bone, I'll run with it.

MEET THE CLONE

e. random encounter
Charles, the clone, looks and sounds exactly like the original but he doesn't have the stylish wheelchair with big X-symbols on the wheels. A big giveaway? Maybe not. His flippant attitude is probably the big neon sign that you weren't expecting. Wherever you meet - cafe, library, school, even the Foundation building - he's going to greet you with a sunny smile and a warm handshake, introduce himself if necessary and especially if you're a pretty brunette, he will flirt playfully while falling short with playing the caring and concerned game that Charles excels at.

He's going to be a little bit impatient, unlikely to avoid using his gifts even if you ask him to and multitasking to the max. Good luck catching all of his attention at any given time. But he's new to his powers, and easily overwhelmed.

f. for those he's interacted with before
As time goes by, he will start targeting Charles' friends and family. He'll find them at their work places or stage a random meeting elsewhere. Once or twice he'll even wander into the house in Nonah. You might find him at the kitchen having a cup of tea and leafing a genetics book, or perhaps wandering around, looking at pictures and fingering everything with curiosity. Or rolling into your workplace with a sunny smile and a suggestion to grab an early lunch.

g. wildcard
Something else you had in your mind? I'm an open book, come at me, bruh!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's okay, [ Charles says calmly and urges Brendan to take his cup. He leans back in his chair to nurse his own cup against his chest. ] I'm sorry to hear about your girlfriend. That must have been awful.

How long did you know her? Were you two in love? [ These are questions that might seem awfully invasive but he's trying to get Brendan to talk, just talk about anything at all. It'll get easier after a while to open up more and more.

The point isn't to tell him a story. Charles could open up his mind and read it all in chronological order. But that's not the point of this at all. ]

I met Emily when I was twelve. She was eleven. We were smart enough to take high school level English classes at that age and the other kids were pretty vocal about not wanting to work with us on school projects. They thought we would ruin their grades, so we studied together and decided to get the best grades in the class just out of spite. She was the most intelligent, sweet, caring person I had ever met. I think I fell in love instantly, looking back.

Emily was the exact opposite of me sometimes. She gave everybody the benefit of the doubt while I was always angry and suspicious. She liked poetry and historical romance novels and I liked detective stories and film noir. Her parents were always home while mine never were, but hers were always fighting. So she'd come over to my place and sleepover. We'd watch TV and I'd make food and we'd curl up on the couch. In summer she could spend days over at my house. We debated music and talked about colleges, about getting married, about leaving San Clemente forever. After a while I had half her clothes stashed in my room, her favorite foods - Boston cream pie and shrimp pasta - were always things I bought even if that meant I'd have to skip lunch or steal it, and the guest room was pretty much her room. I even stole a velvet quilt for it, the last Thanksgiving she stayed over.

And then I realized, it was less the guest room and basically our room. It was like we were married, just minus the rings. Everything else about life was broken, but had each other, and we could hide from the world in our room and plan for a better future, and that kept us going even though San Clemente is a dangerous, violent town with a ridiculous level of drug dealers and guns.

Sorry. I'm rambling again, I - I do that, when it comes to Emily. In summary, it's safe to say we were a bit closer than most couples our age were.

[He takes his tea and drinks it, cringing at himself. 'A bit closer' in an understatement on every level. They were ridiculous. The world had thrown them aside so they made their own little place to retreat where the biggest issue they would have to face was arguing over musical tastes as they cooked dinner. That was not a normal preteen-to-teenager relationship. But it was a happy one, one that had kept them from feeling as lonely and unwanted as they really were. He loved Emily, he loved their life together, he loved every stupid argument over Shakespeare they'd ever had and every failed attempt at cooking she'd ever done.

He's not over her. At all. He told himself he was, but as he stares down at his teacup, he's realizing that no, he is not remotely over her. He's not sure he's ever going to be, honestly.]

[ Charles listens to him talk about her and doesn't for once look distracted or try to disrupt him. It's good that he's talking. These are the good memories that are buried under all the bad. It hurts that they're no longer there, but they will still put a smile to his lips for years to come.

He sips his tea and quietly waits for Brendan to get self-conscious again. He will.

And when it happens, Charles smiles to him calmly. ] It's okay. I don't mind. You were supposed to talk, weren't you?

Basically you two had a codependent relationship. And before you get defensive, it's not always bad. You have a codependent relationship with your parents usually too. And siblings and so on. And definitely with spouses. It's hard to see them go away, though.

Do you think you could tell me about her death? You found her, didn't you? [ He reaches over the table to take Brendan's hand in his, squeezing it firmly. ]

Her death was... it's a complicated thing. Things went south between Emily and I about nine months prior to her dying. She got hooked on heroin, I used my private investigator skills to throw her dealer in jail, and we had a fight. About her being able to make her own decisions and about me being too controlling. [He flinches, but at his own memory, not at anything Charles has done.] I got angry. I was just trying to protect her. But I've always had a wicked temper and I shoved to the ground hard enough she was wearing the bruises for days. And then she declared herself done with me and hooked up with a guy named Dode, a guy at out school, another lowlife drug dealer.

Meanwhile, I fell in with a girl named Kara. Manipulative, outwardly the sweetest girl you can imagine, also a damn drug dealer, but great at playing every pity card and pulling every move to make me feel like I was lucky to have anybody to talk to, let alone date, at all. Thanks to her I am keenly aware that throwing Emily around counts as abuse and that's what I am, abusive and obsessive and probably crazy. My friend Brian, he sort of made me come to my senses. That's its' own long story. So I broke up with Kara and spent months completely miserable, trying to wait for something, anything, to keep living for.

Then in November - it was nearly February when Emily died, to give you a rough timeline - Emily shows up at my door. Dode left her for some reason, God only knows with Dode, but she only had to say the words 'I missed you' and it was like nothing bad had ever happened. We went back to how we used to be for a month.

But she left again because drugs, fuck, she was never a bad person, but drugs make it all complicated. She has hooked and I couldn't get her to quit and for a bit, she was off the radar entirely. Stopped going to school, popped in and out of different people's circles, I couldn't get a lock on her, on what she was doing. January 15th, she called me, and she sounded absolutely terrified. Something was really wrong with the drug dealers she'd fallen in with, she'd made some mistake, she was scared. But then she hung up, I met her a few days later and she told me everything was fine and I needed to let her go.

On the 18th, I found her body in a drain pipe. I'd managed to put the puzzle pieces together to guess where she might be, but I had no clue she was dead until I found her. She... she just looked so small, way too young, still wearing the blue bracelets I gave for Christmas freshman year, and I don't know how long I sat there and stared. I kept thinking this couldn't be real. If anybody deserved to get shot and thrown into a drainpipe by the creek, it wasn't her, it was me. Emily, she - look, I know. I know doing drugs isn't exactly a thing I can defend her for and to a lot of people that probably takes her down a notch or something in their eyes but she was lonely, scared, tired and she just wanted to feel okay. She made some mistakes but she was still the Emily I fell in love with. She still wanted the best for everyone, she scribbled poetry into her notebook, she was trying her best.

And if I hadn't fucked everything up by throwing her first drug dealer in prison, if I'd actually really heard her out, she wouldn't be... she could've been the one here instead of me. She could've gone onto college and been a Literature major, she could have written volumes of poetry, she... she deserved all of those things and my fuck-up took it all away from her. I put her on the path to die. Me. I might as well have done it myself.

[He's crying. Not sobbing, but silent, angry, grieving tears. He's rambling again, with lowering volume and increasing intensity. Brendan rarely cries - he only felt safe crying in front of Emily - but right now he doesn't even realize he's doing it. His gaze drops to Charles' hand on his and it's abundantly clear he doesn't think he deserves the kindness in that gesture when he pulls his hand away and puts it back in his pocket. Emily always wore the bracelets Brendan got her. Brendan always wore the jacket she got him. Even when they weren't dating, even when they were furious with each other.

Even when they were dead or dying.]

[ Charles let's him ramble as much as he wants and he doesn't get offended when Brendan draws his hands away. Instead he puts his cup away and rolls himself around the table and without giving Brendan much of a choice about it, pulls him into a hug.

You wouldn't think a little guy in a wheelchair could be so strong but he spends most of his day lifting himself up by his arms alone. There's fierceness in his embrace, it's solid and comforting. ]

You don't have to justify her addiction to me. I know perfectly well how it is. I've been an addict myself. You just get lost in that and fear that you can't cope without.

[ It's obvious that Brendan's situation is hard because the girl was his whole world and he's found a way to blame himself for it. The girl who introduced him to this self-abuse clearly didn't help matters at all. ]

And this is often how people who have been abused in the past feel. It's easy to blame yourself. I'm not saying Emily abused you. I'm not even saying Kara did. I couldn't know, but I recognise the way you think. [ Because it's personally very familiar pattern of thought to him. Charles has struggled with this his whole life. ]

You aren't to blame for her death, though. How could you have known? You are not a psychic, you don't have any powers of premonition. You thought you were doing something good.

The same way she undoubtedly thought she was doing something good when she didn't tell you what was wrong. She probably thought she was protecting you. But do you think if she'd see you today, that she would feel that her decision was right? I doubt she would. And yet, you wouldn't blame her for it.

You are being yourself own hardest critic.

[That hug breaks whatever walls he had left standing in his mind and he hugs back, crying uncontrollably, because he wants someone to blame him, for once, but he also wants, on some level, to believe it's not his fault. He doesn't know which is true anymore. Everything got complicated in a hurry and he let Emily down, he knows he did, and he's not going to pretend he wasn't a shitty person to throw Emily around like that. That much, he knows is wrong even if everything else Kara told him was his fault might not have been.

But oh thank the God Brendan doesn't believe in, Charles understands about Emily's addiction. She wasn't a bad person, she was an unwanted child from an alcoholic family who had one friend in the entire world and that wasn't enough. She was under so much pressure, yet everyone at school talked shit about her, as if she was somehow worthless once she did heroin. As if they couldn't see she was a person anymore.

He shudders at the word 'abuse'.] The - the abuse, thing, there was. I had to go undercover as a drug dealer to get on the trail of who killed Emily. That's a whole different, even longer story. But trust me, the abuse happened to me there. Kara might qualify as verbally abusive, I don't know, I try not to think about it.

If I hadn't dropped things like she asked me to, if I'd done a better investigation on the 15th, maybe I could have kept her out of danger. I could have figured things out. Instead I backed off and by the time I actually started looking into things, all there was to find was a body. She tried to protect me and I got her killed. I tried to solve her murder and got at least two more people killed. Pretty sure at this point, I deserve some hard criticism, because other people's teen angst bullshit doesn't have a body count.

[ Charles holds him tightly while he cries, rubbing a comforting hand down along his back and presses his cheek to Brendan's forehead. He tries to pour that affection that Brendan obviously is starved for into the contact, into the warm, tight embrace.

His free hand threads into curly hair and brushes through it in a calm, comforting manner. ]

Of course you could have handled it better. But I don't think you should be so hard to yourself. You couldn't have known where it would go. We all make mistakes and sometimes those mistakes cost more than we are willing to pay.

But one mistake doesn't make us worthless. There isn't a person in the whole wide universe who has managed to get through their lives without stumbling and costing dearly to someone else. And if there is, they haven't been saddled with decisions like you have been.

You might have been able to help her if you had done something differently. However, at the time you didn't know that. You couldn't have known that. And it doesn't help her that you punish yourself for it every day.

[Brendan is desperately starved for affection, it's true. He has been for a long time. Any kind of touch is welcome at this point, much as he normally pretends he doesn't need anyone. The reality is, he told himself that so that he wouldn't have to face how alone he really feels all the time.]

You don't understand. The whole investigation went off the fucking rails. I made so many mistakes, and people ended up dead. Not just Emily, but other people. I tried to get the right person put away and I did, everybody guilty went to jail - and two innocent people got shot through the head. If I had been more careful, run the investigation a bit subtler, that wouldn't have happened.

My mistakes kill people and they just keep happening and I don't know what to do. A good chunk of my plan back home hinged on me getting beaten up repeatedly. I was dying from internal bleeding by the end. I was okay with that. I wanted that. I didn't want to be in a world without Emily in it. I remember coughing up so much blood, collapsing in the room Emily and I used to share, shaking-

And then I woke up in this world. That was not the plan, Charles. I can't do life anymore. I just. I can't. I don't know how.

[ Charles is not shy to touch and hold him. He's used to dealing with children who think that they are somehow dangerous to others, that they're beyond affection. He knows they need the affection and so does Brendan. It's mildly awkward to hold someone while he's sitting in the wheelchair but it's also something he's gotten used to, pushing through the awkwardness of it.

He reaches between them to take Brendan's glasses and folds them gently onto the table. He also offers the young man a few tissues before wrapping his arms around him tightly again. You're not getting out of this any time soon. ]

I can't give you a reason for living. That's something you have to find for yourself. But I'll tell you a story. About myself.

See, I hit a rock bottom, like the one you've been experiencing for a while now. First, I lost my legs. I was in my thirties and I was essentially alone. I had one person in my life who knew me, somewhat. My adopted sister. She was my only friend. Then I got to know this other man, who was exactly what I had been waiting for. He pushed me, got me to realise what I wanted out of life, accepted my gift - something no one else had done before that day - and essentially became the person who hung the moon on my sky every night. Now, he and I had a falling out. He forced me to participate in a murder, a murder of a Nazi mutant, someone who had killed hundreds of people, but still a person and I don't believe in violence. He gave me no options, however. I held this man down mentally while he, my friend, penetrated his skull. Then a ten minutes later, he accidentally put a bullet in my spine and then left me, paralysed. He took with him my sister, the only other person I had loved. I pulled myself together from that and opened a school for the gifted children in my world. Now, that kept me going for a while, but then Vietnam war started. My staff and even the students were drafted. Everything fell apart and I couldn't take it anymore. If I open my mind I could hear nothing but suffering, nothing but pain and fear. I started taking this drug. It gave me back my legs but took away my powers. I had lost everything, my friends, my family, my school, my dignity, even my powers were shunning me, I couldn't control them.

Rock bottom was filled with alcohol and days of just hating everything, wishing for it to stop. But then, someone needed me. Someone who couldn't handle with it alone. And despite being just a mess of a man, someone with barely any value and worth, someone needed me and that was woke me up and gave me a reason to face another day. I realised that it has nothing to do with me, I'm just a stepping stone on the way to greatness for other people. But that is what has kept me afloat all these years. It's a privilege and I'm very good at it, giving support and confidence to others. It's my reason to live.

I can't point out your reason for you. You have to find it yourself. But while it's hard right now, it feels like you can't cope and you have nothing to live for, trust me, it will get better. And it might take time and it might feel like the worst thing and you don't know why you're doing it. But it's going to pass, I promise you.

You're not alone in this, either. We will help you.

[Brendan listens and tries to take all that in. All that trauma, all that pain - it explains a lot about Charles, actually. Where Brendan was from, everyone's motives were always suspicious because they were trying to use each other to get ahead. Charles had felt used, he'd built things and watched them crumble, he'd had people let him down, so he wasn't going to hurt people. He'd taken the moral high road, one that Brendan had become convinced didn't exist. In spite of everything, he'd found a reason to get up in the morning, a spark of light to pull him out of the dark. There was something beautiful about that, even if everything that came before it is absolutely horrific.

Charles had the right to know Brendan's biggest mistake, though, if he was going to try to love someone as awful as Brendan and look out for him. No more half-truths and partial lies, Brendan is going to be honest, from now on, about everything. Lying worked for him back home when he was guarding his mind, his heart and his life. He doesn't have to do that here. Charles is like a father, almost, or something parental, at least. He's completely honest and open and braver than Brendan will ever be, because Brendan is scared to be honest with people in case that makes them leave. Can he get unfucked up enough to be as open as Charles, some day? He's not sure. But he can try.]

Emily was pregnant, when she died. [He blurts it out, flinches like he's been struck, but continues.] I didn't know until after she was dead, and the person that told me was her murderer, as the cops arrived. One final way to get to me, I guess, and it worked. It really, really worked. Because I can't stop thinking about what could have been. I was - I was gonna have a daughter. I could have lived for her, for her and Emily. I would have done everything and anything for them.

It's hard to find out both your reasons to live are gone and then wake up in a new world with a new life you don't want. I tried making friends, going to parties, all the things here that are at least a little like back home. I keep trying to find someone to live for but everyone says I'm way too intense and they keep leaving me. I don't know how to do normal anymore, if I ever did. I want to find some reason to live but right now I can barely haul myself out of the house.

You wanted to know, earlier, why I was so low I was drinking rubbing alcohol. [He shuts his eyes, because he doesn't want to see Charles' reaction to this, he doesn't want to see the disgust. Brendan pulls away as best he can - shrinks away, really, afraid. Bracing him.] To cut a long story short, when I was undercover investigating Emily's death, I was [he tenses up, spits out the word] raped. And I swear to God it feels like everyone can tell, like everywhere I go people can see I'm damaged, like everyone knows I'm used goods. Some guy I like here wasn't into me and when he told me I just broke down because I keep trying not to think about what happened and now it's all I can think about. I feel filthy, like I need to scrub my insides with alcohol and rip my arms open with shards of glass until I can get every trace of what happened out of my system.

My nightmares, my insomnia? They're either about nurseries and baby cradles or about being pinned down in a concrete-walled room. Every. single. night.

I don't know if there's any helping me at this point.

[He's terrified there isn't. There isn't a way to get over or through this, and Charles will give up on him, and he'll be alone again, this time without even the option of suicide to turn to. Brendan always held suicide as an option in his head like a back door, an emergency exit, and now that's gone, and he's just confessed he's human garbage to the one person stupid enough to care about him.]

[ Brendan isn't getting very far though, Charles wiggles his chair until they're side by side and he throws his arm around Brendan's back, curling his fingers around the young man's bicep. ]

Oh, heavens, [ he murmurs as he finds out about the baby. Most people would probably think thank god this teenage couple didn't get to a point where they would have had a baby in their hands, mother being addicted to heroine, father struggling with depression. But Charles thinks about the child and he thinks about these kids being still kids themselves and how life has thrown them around like this. ]

You know what I thought when that friend of me left me on the beach? I thought that I would never be happy, I would never good enough. These people, they left me, because I didn't fit into their view of how I should have been or should have thought about things. I wasn't good enough for anyone, right?

Wrong.

This boy you like, they obviously weren't the one for you. Perhaps you shouldn't try to find someone else to live for in the first place. Live for yourself. And when you do that, others will follow, and relationships will spring out of nothing suddenly.

You didn't expect to be here with me when you first contacted me. And I'm not trying to say that there's anything romantic here, heavens no. But I do already feel a great swell of affection for you, Brendan. I will always be here for you. You won't be alone.

You have nothing to feel ashamed of for liking someone. And if they did make you feel like that, I'm sorry for them, because they're definitely coping with something else horrible if they need to make other people feel awful. You are beautiful and good. Not saying you aren't difficult because obviously you are but you have to understand that everyone is. Especially people like us who struggle with more than just the normal problems.

I believe you have a lot of hope in your life still. A lot more to look forward to. This is just a tough spot, it'll get better. Trust me. I've seen this before and it does get better. You are not struggling with this alone, either. I would like you to call me whenever you feel like that again. Just call me. Whatever time it is, night or day. In fact you don't even have to call, just think of me. I will answer.

Also, if you wouldn't mind I'd like you to come over more often. Have a dinner with us. Stay over for the evening. I'll teach you to play chess. We can talk about books. I think you're a bright young man and I definitely wouldn't mind seeing you around more often.

[ Charles would include him in the family with open arms and he'd never leave Brendan to deal with this on his own. There is no judgement for what he has done or how he has done it. Just quiet acceptance and affection. ]

If I had ever thought about using protection, Emily wouldn't have have gotten pregnant. She wouldn't have been so scared she was an easy target to kill. I just assumed that since we'd been having sex for nearly two years and she'd never so much as missed her period, we weren't going to have a kid. [Which is a really stupid assumption to have made, in retrospect. Having had prior ridiculously good luck is not a reason to assume it'll hold. But they'd been fumbling around with each other since they were alarmingly, disturbingly young, and Emily hadn't ever asked for him to use a condom and they hadn't had even a false alarm to scare them into realizing how stupid they were being.

If he'd known she was pregnant when she called him, he would have dropped everything to launch an immediate investigation and everything would have turned out differently. But she was fourteen, her parents were divorcing, she was struggling with her addiction as it was; Brendan didn't blame her for not telling him. It was his fault he put her in that position to begin with. And it was society's fault for creating places like San Clemente where poor kids lived hellish lives from start to finish and barely made it out alive.]

I've always lived for someone. Before Emily, I lived for my friend Brian, because people were assholes to him and I could fight off the people bullying him. It made me feel like I had a purpose. I don't know what my purpose is, here. I don't know who I can help or defend or even just care about without messing it up.

Y'know, at this point I kind of wish there was something romantic between us? Just because I've had to deal with creepy older guys from the rich part of San Clemente hitting on me. I know how that works. I don't know how this works. I wanna make sure I don't fuck up this whole friendship but I never had this sorta thing in my life before. My dad was gone too much to notice Emily had more or less moved in, let alone be all buddy-buddy with me.

...it doesn't feel like things can get better, sometimes. Sometimes everything feels too hopeless, too empty, to deal with. And I don't wanna let you down by crashing because my mood always crashes. I get days or weeks of intense focus and then everything falls apart in my head. You'd just get disappointed by me. Or tired of it. I'm always either on top of everything or ready to die and that wears out everyone who tries to help. Or, it used to, anyway. Doesn't seem to have scared off my housemate yet.

If you get me started on books, that'll never end, [he forewarns with a small smile, a tiny bit of hope in him despite himself.] And I reserve the right to help cook if this becomes a regular thing. I don't wanna be a burden. I'm not a good person, but I'm trying not to be a bad one, mostly.

You should always wear protection, not just for the sake of not getting your girlfriend pregnant. But with boys also. [ Charles stressed this point, looking at Brendan firmly. ] It'll also protect you from diseases. Please, make sure you will wear protection. And if you find it hard to get them, let me know and I'll help you.

[ He squeezed Brendan around his shoulders and laughed warmly at the comment about them being romantic. ] That's awful and you shouldn't even joke about it. Or those old men who have flirted with you. [ A surge of protective irritation inside him that Charles pushed down. ] I know it's hard to trust someone you've just met but take a chance with me. I will be here and I'm not going to get tired of you. I've once abandoned people in life and that lead to deaths. I won't be doing that same mistake again.

And I don't want to. You let me see you as you are and that is a privilege that I mean to honour. I think you should aim to find something that you want out of this life, something you want to do, something that interests you. But don't let it stress you right now. It'll come. First, let's just put some stability back in your life.

We can see about your moods later, too. I would rather not see you experience this kind of downfall again. And I can do something about it. But it's the last resort. Let's see what we can accomplish by discussion and simple, good life, shall we?

You are important to me, do you understand that? I want to hear about the books you like to read and what you think about them and the bad ones. [ Charles responded that smile with a bigger one of his own, reaching over to brush a bit of hair away from Brendan's forehead. ] You're not a burden. Never think of that. But if you want to help with cooking, you're more than welcome to do that. I'm actually a terrible cook. Erik is trying his best to teach me. Perhaps you can help me with that.

I have a healing factor here and no luck getting someone to make out with me more than once. Unless immaculate conception is a thing here, we're golden on that front. [It's a bit late now, Charles. He appreciates the thought but so far he can't get a second date in this world, thinking about theoretical sex seems farfetched to him.

He shrugs, quirking an eyebrow.] You can't tell me not to make a joke you just found funny. Besides, I know how to turn down guys. Except for the one who was a literal drug lord, then I just pretended to be oblivious to him hitting on me. [Brendan is a mouthy, sarcastic and often verbally obnoxious person, but even he'd had enough common sense not to mouth off to San Clemente's most powerful criminal. He was very aware that he had played with fire in that particular case.] I tried killing myself here. You could abandon me without worrying about death, I can't seem to overload my own system here just yet. It's tricky.

...I used to want to be an English teacher. I don't think I could face doing that now. I don't even know if I can deal with school. The things that interested me are hard to take, these days. All I ever wanted was for people I cared about to be okay and now I'm here, with new people who care about me, and I can't act protective about you when you're literally psychic. The only thing I did so far that was legitimately enjoyable and didn't end in disaster was helping a friend of mine here study Shakespeare.

My mom has the same mood swings. It's why she's a ferocious, fucking terrifying lawyer, especially when she's emotionally into a case. Then she falls apart. She tried not to let me see it, but I did. Is that sort of thing hereditary? I never took Biology in high school, I could be wrong, here.

[He blinks away tears.] I. I guess I just don't understand why I'm important to you. I don't get it. But I've been cooking for myself since I was seven, I can help. It's not that hard to learn. And I wouldn't say I enjoy it, but it clears my head, sometimes. Just like getting lost in books does, it just... helps, somehow.

Even with a healing factor, you might carry a disease from a person to another. Please, use protection.

[ Charles snorts softly. ] Fine, you caught me. I might have a little bit of a sarcastic sense of humour. But I'm relieved to hear you don't find it hard to turn down people if you're not feeling it.

You obviously enjoy helping others. That doesn't mean necessarily that you're living for someone else. Helping is a career choice. Teachers especially need quite a bit of that desire to be successful in their work.

I need protection like anyone else, too. I might come off as a man with the whole package tightly together, but I do have my moments of weakness. Where do you work currently? I'm about to change jobs. I'm taking over the Maria-Francis Foundation again, and I'm trying to launch a few programs within it. Perhaps you'd like to help me.

But first, I would like to recommend you that I help you find a psychologist. Not for therapy, if you don't want that, but so that they can prescribe you some medication. There is a name for this condition that you have and while it's not something you can be cured from, it's one that you can learn to live with. It is very hereditary like most conditions of that sort are. Medication is important, though, it'll keep you grounded.

[ Charles pauses before he finishes, taking a moment tilt his head back and look at the ceiling, then at Brendan's profile, watching him blink back tears. ]

I care about you. Which is why it hurts me to hear you talk about suicide and hurting yourself. You are a wonderful young man and I hope to learn to know you a lot better in the future.

I love how you're under the impression I'm not only going to get laid at some point, but that more than one person might be involved. I have burned all those bridges so thoroughly that a one night stand is probably out of my league at this point.

Do I strike you as somebody who has issues telling other people to fuck off? If anything, I need more of a filter, not less. [Brendan has insults down to an art form in some cases. Nobody ever wondered where they stood with him. Given how much lying and bullshit went on at his school, he prided himself on being honest to a fault.

He raises an eyebrow.] Well, yeah, I'd like t' help, but - what could I even do? I don't have amazing powers and I'm not professor-level smart.

I - wait, what? [For a moment, he actually looks his age, frightened and hopeful all at once.] There's a word for this? Besides just 'crazy', I mean? I kinda... I always kinda thought it was just my mom an' I who were messed up like that. There's other people, with this? [He's afraid of what will happen if it doesn't work, but against all past experience, he's hopeful some kind of medicine might actually help, somehow.]

The more you learn, the more you'll know I'm not wonderful. As we just covered, I'm crazy. I was a creepy, overbearing boyfriend. I think I used to be good, maybe, or at least better, but I've never been wonderful. At best, I'm just some guy.

[ Charles gives a small chuckle. ] Well, never say never. I do think you will find someone who will be very happy to share safe, protected sex with you. [ Was there a little bit of a more weight on safe and protected? Why yes, there might have just been. ]

Also, helping doesn't require professor-level smartness, my dear boy. Most of the time it just requires desire to help and ability to take advice and learn new things. I would be happy to have you help me at the Foundation if you would be so inclined.

[ He pauses, taking in a breath. ] If you would be willing, I'd like you to talk with a psychologist about getting a real diagnose. I have an inclination what might be ailing you. And perhaps your mother as well. But it would be really helpful to get a professional opinion on it. And if it is what I expect it to be, there is medication for it. [ Charles has been brushing up on this knowledge because he knew he would be having this conversation with Brendan. It seems that neural psychology has taken leaps and bounds in the few decades that he's missing. ] I would be more comfortable recommending something if you would get a second opinion from a specialist. But as I said, it's not a cure, it's something that will help you control this.

Because I do believe that you are a wonderful young man. And there is something wrong mostly with your brain chemistry. Let me help you with that. I can be of great assistance with finding the right dosage and right medication. My powers are fantastic with that. And when you feel better, I do hope your sense of self-worth will start to heal as well.

At this point a second date is being ambitious. Don't count your eggs before they hatch, old man. [Brendan's self-worth and his dating history are unfortunately closed linked.]

I don't know what I could do at the Foundation that you couldn't get somebody better for. But I'm up for it, I guess. Might as well try.

[Brendan swallows, feeling his throat go dry. The idea is both comforting and terrifying.] Okay. Okay, I - I can do that. Just, don't tell anyone? I've got enough self-induced disasters in my life, I don't need people knowing I'm crazy, too. You ever gonna tell me what you suspect might be the problem? 'Cause I kinda want to read up on it and know if it's treatable or if I'm completely fucked.

Pretty sure my self-worth is fine... which sounds sarcastic but if I pulled myself together enough to come here today, that's me giving more of a shit about myself than I have in a long, long time.

[ Brendan's self-depreciating humour makes Charles laugh once more but he reaches over to squeeze his arm gently. ] I'll remind you of this conversation when your dating life tips to the positive scale, my friend.

And we can talk about work situation later, I'm still in the process of figuring out everything, but there's definitely tasks that I will need help from various people and I'll come collect your promise then.

[ He sobers up a little when the talk turns to psychic evaluation, though, smile softening into a serious one. ] I will tell you after you've seen someone. You are bright, a little too bright to be completely genuine with someone if you feel that you gain something from lying. I'm not trying to call you a liar, but it's a human condition, eagerness to brush something under the rug and focus on other things if they believe that it's beneficial for them. It'll be better for you if you just go with an open mind and we'll talk about it after the fact.

There is no such thing as completely fucked, though.

[ And because of what he says last, Charles pulls him into another tight hug. ] I'm glad to know you care about yourself at least some. I hope to see that grow into actual love eventually. You're doing well, Brendan. We'll get you out of this rut, trust me. There might be some regressive steps along the way but if you don't trust yourself, trust me when I say that we're going to pull through this.

[Brendan rolls his eyes. The idea his dating life might turn around and he might end up in a happy relationship? That's just not a thing he can see happening. At least not yet - he has to pull himself together, first.]

Oh, I lie like I breathe. But this is the one case where honesty would help me. There's nothing to gain by lying in this one particular instance. Others, yeah. My parents are both lawyers, they instilled the idea in me early on that sometimes lying is more than alright. With this, though, if anything I'll be overly honest. Which will probably lead to even more rambling. Pity the sap that has to listen to me and do a diagnosis, that shit will take forever and a day.

[He sighs as if the hug is obnoxious, but really, it's not, it's endearing, and he hugs back despite his own jaded view on physical contact.] I don't trust myself. I know myself too well for that. But I trust you, even if you're sappy and a little too optimistic. And I promise I'll try and remember not to hate myself, as much as I can. I can't snap my fingers and get fixed but I can try my best not to be a mess. [And he will, as much as he can. He doesn't want to disappoint Charles.]

Maybe not, [ Charles says with a quicksilver smile that is there and gone, replaced with a more serene expression. ] Would you trust me to find a psychologist for you to meet?

[ Charles is delighted to see Brendan at least try, which brings a sunny smile to his lips and he rubs the boy's arm gently before pulling away to hopefully not embarrass him completely. ] I will say this is the best news today. And again, if it gets hard, just give me a ring, I'm here and you can always reach out to me.

...yeah, [he says, after a pause and a thoughtful sigh. He's already anticipating this biting him in the ass later, but he's been so low these last few days he just doesn't have it in him to be all that afraid of things going wrong.] I trust you enough to have you pick out a shrink for me. And enough to text whenever the next urge to pick up shattered glass pieces and run them over my skin until it looks crisscrossed like a Jackson Pollock experiment with too much red hits. [If that example seems oddly specific, it's because he's had that exact thought more than once.]

[ Charles winces at the mental image he has from that description and the feedback he gets from Brendan's mind as well. Part of him wants to wipe those urges right out of the young man's mind but that would be awful of him. So he just sighs and reaches over to grab Brendan's hand for a moment, squeezing it gently. ]

I'm glad.

Now, how about we get some actual food in you? Would you feel like doing something else than talking for a while? Have you ever played chess? [ He feels like there's a need for some normalcy in Brendan's life. Things that don't hurt him or anyone around him. ]

[In all fairness to Brendan, cutting seemed to give him mother clarity. He'd never done it, but as far back as he can remember, she always picked up little pieces of shattered glass from the side of the road, feeling the edges with her fingers, sometimes making little lines in the center of her palms before pocketing them. They'd never talked about it. Brendan wasn't sure he wanted to; it kept her depression less heavy and furthermore, if he said something now, he'd have to ask himself why he never stopped her as a kid. He always knew it wasn't normal, but he just sort of kept quiet about it. And now it's been unaddressed for so long he always side-eyes glass as if that's a purpose it just inherently has, as normal as breathing.

He needs help, but he's at least gotten to the point he realizes that kind of talk is cringe-worthy, and he looks at Charles sheepishly.] Sorry. Poor choice of words, there.

Food sounds good. Never played chess, so you should be able to beat me seven ways from Sunday. I kick ass at poker and blackjack and that's about it, honestly.

[Brendan's not sure what normalcy is. But this is nice. This, he could get used to, he thinks.]

[ Charles pauses to look Brendan right in the eyes, calm and steady. ] Never feel like there's something you can't talk to me about because it might hurt me. It'll hurt me more not to know those things. But yes, it hurts me when you want to hurt yourself. It's not about normal - what is normal? - but empathy and affection.

[ Then he reaches up to ruffle the boy's hair and then rolls away with his chair, waving Brendan to follow him into the kitchen. ] I'll explain you the rules while we'll get some food. I think there's some leftovers from yesterday's meal if you're interested. Erik is a fantastic cook.

And don't underestimate yourself. Chess is about strategy. If you'd have been playing for a long while, as I have, you'd know which tactics to employ and it'd be unfortunately very predictable.

Catchall for July

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