Players:
Summary: Deep feelings are shared among friends… with depressingly predictable results.
Date: January 28, 2010
Log Title Oversharing
Rating: PG -13
Xavier Mansion - Recreation Room
What was once the Parlor has been turned into a Recreation Room for the students. A nice plush carpet meets the light blue walls giving it a homey feel. A pool table at one end, a foos ball table at the other, and entertainment center with video game systems, movies, and of course, cable TV. Big comfy chairs and couches surround a coffee table for comfortable loafing. Long glass windows with a pair of French doors line one side of the room bringing in plenty of light during the day. The main rule in here is to clean up after yourself.
Lucas is sitting on the floor, his back against the couch. The television is on, playing the Predators hockey game. The volumes not very loud, and Lucas doesn't have the exuberence he normally does when the game's on. He's wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants and a baggy Predator's jersey, but he's not actually even watching the TV. He's reading a book. Fran and Zooey, by JD Salinger. He has an unsharpened pencil in his mouth to turn pages with.
The door to the Rec Room opens, closing behind the dark-skinned redhead as she makes her way inside. It doesn't take long for her to spot Lucas, seated in front of the TV, and her pace picks up some as she makes her way over, dropping down to sit next to the Tennesseean. "Hey, Lucas," she says, leaning against his shoulder and looking over the book in his hand. "Did you hear the news…?"
Lucas sighs, and looks at her. He just nods, rather upset. Looking back at the book, he shrugs, "Shitty topping for a shitty couple weeks, huh." He shakes his head, "Reckon Ah deserve to feel bad, huh?"
"No," Rashmi says firmly, gently tugging Lucas' arm away from his side, slipping through to lean against the blond's side. "You deserve to feel *better.* Even if only a little. …Somehow."
Lucas shrugs, "It's okay. Ah know. Ah won't. Not for a while." He leans a bit into her. "Ah don't think Ah deserve you. Or… rather…" He furrows his brow and looks her in the eyes, "You deserve better'n me."
Rashmi tilts her head up, eyebrows lowering, just a little. "Lucas…" Shaking her head, she settles in, letting out a quiet breath. "…This isn't about what I deserve. I'd hoped you'd learned that by now… This is about what *you* deserve. And surprise surprise… It happens to make me happy, too."
Lucas licks his lips, his brow furrowing a little. "You don't even really know me, Rash. How can you be so certain?"
Rashmi lets her head rest against his shoulder, eyes falling to the book in his hands. "You're right, you know… I don't know you all that well. I've tried… And I've seen a few things. Enough for me to want to keep looking…" Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looks up, eyebrow rising. "Remember that fight we had in the cafeteria?"
Lucas looks down at his book, closes it, and looks at her. "…yeah?"
Rashmi tilts her head some. "You remember what I said, when you told me you didn't need saving?"
Lucas shakes his head a little, "Ah… No… Ah don't…"
Rashmi smiles. "That sometimes… It's nice to have someone there with you… when you save yourself." Curling an arm over one of Lucas' gloves, she rests her free hand in its palm. "And you can do that, Lucas… you really could. I *know* you could. You just… have to want to."
Lucas sighs, "Ask me anything." He looks at her, and gives her a little smirk. "This is your chance. Any question. And Ah'll answer."
Rashmi ducks out from under Lucas' arm, large eyes intent on Lucas' face. "All right," she says, clearly intent on swinging for the fence. "What has you so scared, that you'd rather push everyone as far away as you can instead of risking a little happiness?"
Lucas is sitting on the floor, his back against the couch, Rashmi beside him. The television is on, playing the Predators hockey game. The volumes not very loud, and Lucas is wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants and a baggy Predator's jersey, but he's not actually even watching the TV. He has in his lap a book, Fran and Zooey, by JD Salinger. "Wow. You couldn't have been all, 'what's your middle name?'"
Rashmi's eyebrow rises, a small, challenging smirk on her face. "Hey… You said this was my chance. Why should I ask a question I could get from a teacher, when I have a shot at something *important?*"
Lucas purses his lips, staring her down a long moment, before finally saying, "Everything."
Rashmi's eyebrows rise, a hand waving in the classic 'go on….' gesture. "Lucas… it's me. You don't have to impress me, you know…"
Of course, Salinger will be on all the assingment boards tomorrow. And Mike will get stuck with an essay on Catcher in the Rye, when he completely doesn't get what that kid is going on about.
So instead of doing that, Mike has decided to pop into the rec room and try out a new game download. But there's an ice-brawling competition on the tube, and … oh heck. Lucas and Rashmi, having a conversation. Hrf. He stops in the door, not sure if he wants to, or can avoid, making an interruption.
Lucas nods, "Trust me. Ah don't worry about impressin' people." He smirks, "Just… Everything Ah get close to dies. Fuck, even Salinger." He shakes his head a little, "It's just easier to keep everyone away."
"Salinger was *old,* Lucas," Rashmi says gently. "Everyone has to die at some time or another… Which do you think is more important? Keeping everyone away so you don't hurt, or doing what you can to enjoy the time we've all got…?" With a quiet sigh, she rests her head on the blond's shoulder, glancing past toward the mechanical teen with a gentle smile. "Hello, Mike… Come on in. There's someone I've been wanting you to meet."
And that's pretty much ensured he can't sneak away quietly, so he moves forward noisily. Not silhouetted in the door, it's pretty obvious that Mike is a… robot or something. White metalflake painted skin, red pinstripes, rubber tread in his palms and on his feet. A robot with odd fashion sense as he's wearing a hawaiian shirt and black leather board-length shorts - with red flaimes all over them, hot-rod style.
"HIThere," Mike says. Waving one hand while sampling Peter Gabriel.
Lucas furrows his brow, and smiles, "Um… Johnny 5 crossed with Atomic Robo?"
"Accident doing something that sounded like a good idea at the time," Rashmi corrects, patting the couch behind the couple and electing to save Mike the hassle, and giving the Reader's Digest version herself. "He can merge with cars. But he got into a really bad accident one day, and when his dad was able to talk him out of the wreck… His body had fixed itself with what was left of the car. He can't really talk all that well… he can't really say anything unless he's heard it on the radio."
Mike tilts his head, and considers. The only "Pleased to meet you" sample he's got is the one from Sympathy for the Devil, and that might be just a hair too harsh in context, but that Johnny 5 remark… Nah.
He pulls a pack of post-it notes out of his pocket- the 3x5 size - and draws a mouth with a tongue sticking out, bleah, Then he writes a note, "Johnny 5.1, maybe. You look better now." He slaps the tongue-thing over his own mouth where it sticks for just long enough while he shows the note. He does wink at Rashmi for the retelling.
Lucas nods, still grinning a little. "So it's more like Bumblebee, sorta." He nods, then tilts his head, "You said now? Have we met before?"
"He, um… He came with us when we got you back to the Mansion…" Tilting her head up, Rashmi looks at Mike, eyes clouded over with something like sadness. "He doesn't remember anything, Mike… Just what he saw after… And what anyone's wanted to tell him."
Mike shakes his head no, and writes, "Totally bumblebee but rodimus prime inside. No, I met the thing that was in your body. It had got it all demony and stuff."
Lucas nods a bit, "Ah feel worse, Ah reckon, but… Yeah… Glad to be back…" He looks down at the book in his lap, it's easier to look at then Rashmi when he's guilty.
Rashmi's eyebrow rises slightly, lips pursing. "Mike… Do you mind if I show Lucas that email you sent me? I think… it'd probably help him, a little."
Mike writes again, "You know none of it was your fault. It wore you like a cheap suit."
Then he reconsiders, and crumples that up, as Rashmi asks. "YESYESYES" he answers with the voice of BIT, and does the 'go ahead please' gesture. That email went to more than just Rashmi but there's no guarantee anyone else read it. But it's intended to be read.
Lucas looks at Rashmi, gesturing a bit with his giant gloved hands. "Ah can't exactly type to get to email on a puter, hun."
Rashmi reaches into her book bag, pulling out the cell that every student is given. "And that's why I think ahead, Lucas," she says, amused tolerance in her voice as she fumbles through the menus, eventually landing on the email in question. Calling it up, she sets the phone in a conveniently upturned glove. "Read, sweetie."
[I went because of Lucas. Because nobody should be left in a prison made of their own soul, without at least a chance to be saved. That's something I have been taught all my life: we're all depraved, evil, we're all unworthy, none of us, not even the guy with the personal inside line to the holy light dimension, is untainted. And even if nobody else believes in God, I do, and I won't leave anyone to be enslaved by tangible evil if I can do something to give them a chance.]
Lucas reads, and very quickly. He must read a lot. He looks at Rash, and smiles, a cocky, sarcastic, dimple-laden grin. "Forward that to Dallas," he jokes.
Mike makes a mental note, when he's talking - well, more likely texting - to Hank about getting a voice-simulator like the one from last night, see what they can do for Lucas… cause those gloves SUCK.
And then he looks up, sees that email, winces inside at how utterly earnest it reads, but… yeah ok, its true.
Rashmi smiles slightly, poking at one of the dimples. "If I thought he'd bother to read it, I already would have. But you're missing the point, Lucas… Mike never knew you… He never knew *me,* until I told people I needed help getting you back. And, you know what? He didn't even stop to think about it. He went with us. He got hurt, too, but that was the first thing he did after the rest of us were blowing up at each other in Medical." Looking up, she pats Mike's metal leg, smiling gently. "You're a really good guy, Mike… And personally, I'm proud that you're my friend."
Lucas looks at Mike, then back to Rashmi. "Better than me, really." He leans back against the couch. "Maybe you two should date?" he says, with a touch of humor.
Yeah, totally should just get that red paint job all over, Mike.
He starts to write a reply to that but when Lucas suggests him dating Rashmi… Uh… He writes, "Would never work. I'm an autosexual and she's into angsty guys." Sorry Rashmi. Must deflect.
Rashmi looks from Mike to Lucas, quite torn on who to start berating first. Eventually, she sags, content to bestow the Look of Infinite Patience to each in turn, settling back against Lucas' side. "Fine," she grumbles, only a little pouty, "see if *I* try to cheer you up anytime soon…"
Lucas looks at Mike, a little confusion on his face. "Whoah. Okay, Ah am NOT angsty. Okay? Robyn the emoboy wonder? HE'S angsty. Ah'm…" He pauses, considering, and then slumps. "Fuck." He looks at Rashmi, "When did Ah become angsty?"
Mike shrugs, writes. "You're a teenager. Papa says it's part of the territory."
Yes, good relationship with parents. Mike is a freak.
Rashmi glances at Mike's note, nods. "Also, probably getting this idea in your head that everything that… *thing* did in your skin is completely your fault and you don't deserve friends or a girlfriend, or or or… Well you get the idea." Lightly combing her fingers through Lucas' hair, she sighs, shaking her head. "One of these days, sweetie, you're *going* to listen to what people who care about you are saying…"
"Dallas cared. Have you heard what he's saying?" Lucas asks. He swallows, looking at his book, then up at the TV to check the score. "Ah wasn't always like this."
Mike starts writing again. Is it time to do another demonstration or what?
"Nothing it did was your fault. It used you like I use a car - a thing to change the way I want it to be. It was a demon, they want to hurt things, so it used your feelings for your friends to torture them. Maybe to hurt you too. Dallas is OK but he lives in HIS world sometimes."
Rashmi's eyes narrow at the question. "…Ever since Dallas accused me of selling out to the demons because I wanted him to stop hating you… I stopped believing he has anything worth saying that doesn't start with 'I'm sorry.' Maybe after…" The redhead shrugs. "If that ever happens." Looking up at Mike's Post-it, she nods firmly. "If I have to, Lucas, I will parade you in front of every last teacher in this school. Because none of them think differently than Mike and I do."
Lucas shakes his head, "That's not true. Ah let it in. That makes it ALL my fault."
Mike shakes his head. "NONONONO" …using Bit-voice again. Quick written, "I disagree. Did it say what it would do? Why did you let it in?" Because that matters, for some reason.
Rashmi starts to voice a heated reply, but looks up at the Bit-sample. Subsiding, she gives Lucas a gentle poke, pointing up to the Post-It.
Lucas sighs, and looks down at his book. "It didn't look like a demon. Ah just… He promised… If Ah helped him, he'd… he'd save my maw." He furrows his brow, and looks at Mike. "Ah said yes." He looks down at his gloves, "And now Coyote's dead."
Mike reaches over to touch Lucas shoulder with hands that are at least as odd-appearing as Lucas' gloves.
He wrote this out earlier, apparently, because it's stuck to the back of the post-it, in small writing, slightly blurred. and he hands it to Rashmi.
"Why was she there at all? God, why would you punish her for the mistake he made? All right, I get it, her own free will to be there, sure. But …yeah. Everything dies in time. To every thing. If this was her time, what about the people who blame themselves for it? What about me, I subdued him so Jono could knock him out. Yeah, my hands were burned, so? So free will huh. OK."
"…I don't know, Mike," Rashmi says after awhile, her voice small. "I don't know why… She just… wouldn't *listen…* I'd told her to stay back, but…" Burrowing in closer to Lucas, she rests her head on his shoulder. "Don't be stingy, Lucas… We all get to feel guilty for that one. Me for not doing enough to keep her back… Mike and I for bringing you home to get help… There's a million reasons for everyone to feel guilty about it, sweetie. But… at least you're not alone, feeling that way, right…? Maybe… maybe we can all find some kind of answer together. Somewhere, there's a light… we just have to find it."
Lucas shakes his head, "But it all starts with me. None of ya'lls guilt would be here if'n Ah hadn't let it in." He shrugs, "And it was my hands what killed her." He looks at Mike, "Look, Ah appreciate what you done, Ah do. Rashmi needs folk like you around right now what don't blame her or wanna give her an Ah told ya so. Thanks."
Mike shakes his head and taps Lucas on the shoulder and points to him. Emphatically.
"*No,* Lucas," Rashmi says from beneath her curtain of hair, "what I *need* is for someone, *anyone,* to get it through your head that this all *isn't your fault!*" She draws in a deep breath, obviously intending to go on at length, but lets it out in a rush. "…Lucas… If I come with you… would you *please* talk to Jericho…? I *know* it would help… his *husband* let the demon in, same as you did. If anyone can really know… he can. Just… please?"
Lucas furrows his brow, "Ah don't need to talk to no one, Rash. Ah'll be okay, alright? Just… Christ, can we talk about somethin' else?" He scowls a little at her, and then huffs. "Ah'll be fine."
Mike writes on the pad impatiently. "You need it too. You didn't invent original sin Lucas. We're all flawed. You confessed your sin in inviting it, but it came to YOU first, right? I forgive you for burning me IF you had any part in it. I'm not a priest so I can't give you God's forgiveness for the rest, but I expect it's there if you ask. You need to find someone who can help you with that. And don't listen to Dallas about this. He's got his own guilt games where he's the MVP."
Mike stands and walks to the window to look out. Can't calm breathing when no breath to calm.
Rashmi frowns. "I remember the last time you said that," she murmurs, low and warning. Watching Mike cross to the window, she sighs. "Lucas… look at him. He cares about you. *I* care about you. We do because you're *worth* caring for. And it twists a little more inside hearing you say that, every time. Because… you don't *want* to be okay. You don't *want* to be happy. You don't think you *deserve* it… which is bull, and you know it. If that weren't true, none of us would even bother."
Lucas furrows his brow, pushing himself up off the floor, standing. He looks at Mike for a moment, and then down at Rashmi. "You should have asked me why Ah think Ah don't deserve to be happy, Rash." He looks over at Mike, "Be good, Mike." He turns, and begins to head for the door, leaving his book next to Rashmi on the floor.
Mike watches Lucas stand, and nods slightly and closes his eyes when he says to be good. OK, Mike. Oversharing didn't help this time. It's free will again. So just pray for them and put it aside. Not your job to fix it.
He opens his eyes, crosses to where they were sitting and retrieves the prayer he wrote out earlier, returning it to the back of his stack, and thence to his pocket. He feels the game he had downloaded on its keyfob, and shrugs, then goes back to the window, wishing he could just go drive. A long way.
One, two, three, four, five, six, in rapid procession, the faintly glowing force-spheres fade into view, arcing out toward the blond and forming up mere inches from his nose, sketching a lazy vertical spirograph in midair. "….Don't you do that, Lucas," Rashmi says, voice and face strained. "Don't get up and walk away again… not now. Please. *Please,* Lucas, don't do that again…"
Lucas turns around, and snaps, "Or what!?!?" He's visibly shaken, angry, trapped. "There's nothing you could do that Ah wouldn't deserve, Rash! You DON'T understand, okay? Ah'm sorry, but you just don't!" The temperature in the room rises about three degrees as he shouts. He gestures at Mike, still looking at her, "And gettin' him to pray to a God Ah don't believe in for me don't help none! It's just talk! In the end, Ah'm still a murderer who can't even tie his own goddamned shoes!"
Mike looks up at that. He walks over to Lucas and writes, "so Who did YOU kill?" Not EVEN going to address that Rashmi didn't GET him to do anything. He does that all on his own, without her permission or anyone else's. And, it doesn't matter to him whether Lucas believes or not, obviously enough.
The spheres break up as Rashmi pushes herself off the floor, snatching up the book and storming toward the boys. When she comes to a halt, they whirl around the trio, each describing their own stilted orbit, blurring around them as they pick up speed, matching the storm of emotion playing across her face. "If you believed that," she whispers, "if you honestly believed that, you wouldn't be trying to run away every time I *do* what you deserve. What *we're* trying to do, *right* *now.*"
Lucas looks at Mike's note, then to Rashmi. "What do you WANT from me, Rashmi?" He shakes his head a bit at her, the air around the three of them beginning to cool once more. "Ah can't be who you want me to be."
Mike writes on the next sheet. "Double-teaming. Not fair. & listen to what he's saying not how it hurts you."
The spheres make him a little nervous… Besides leaving unpleasant dents and maybe breaking his face, there's a chance they'd break on his metal body, as well, and that would be really a bad thing for both of them.
Rashmi looks from Lucas' face to the note… and subsides some, the spheres slowing, gradually, as she closes her eyes, taking a few slow, deep breaths. "…I want you to believe, Lucas," she says finally. "Not in God, that's not even anything to worry about… Just…" She shakes her head slowly, looking up at Lucas. "…Even when the demon that rode your body knocked me out… put me in a cage in their castle, Lucas… I believed in you. That you didn't know what you were getting into, and that you'd never have allowed it if you knew… Because I believe you're better than that. I *know* you are. And I got *so…* *sick* of everyone else telling me how stupid I was for having faith in you. What do I want, Lucas…? I want *you* to stop telling me that, too… I don't want to start believing it for myself."
Lucas glances at Mike, and back at Rashmi. "Ah never asked you to put that faith in me. You should never have done it."
Mike writes …. "You can't stop her believing in you man. She's a force of nature. But if you like, I believe you're not better than that cause nobody is, but it doesn't matter to me. You were worth what I went through. Even if you're a emo self-hating jerk because a demon raped your soul. Also, you're way too blond and that grin you got makes my teeth hurt and I don't have teeth anymore."
Rashmi looks down at the note, managing something almost like a brief laugh, and looks back up to Lucas, gaze challenging. "There. I don't think the sun rises over your head, but at least *he's* willing to say it…. sort of…"
Lucas stands there a long moment, and then finally says, softly, "Ah'm not emo."
Mike writes, "Are too, but you're sick, you'll recover. Not a lifestyle choice w/you. Right?" He glances at the spheres and gestures at them, to Rashmi.
Rashmi flushes slightly, the spheres disappearing with a brief gesture from her hand. "You're hurt, Lucas… that's all. And that's okay. But, if you want to say you're not emo?" Her head tilts, a brief flicker of challenge in her eyes. "…Prove it."
Lucas tilts his head a little, "Do you love me? Or is this boyfriend thing just a you really like me and aren't quite at love yet?" His lips curl upward very slightly at each end.
Mike steps back away from this part. ONLY way he'd be involved here is if he was the car and they were about to make out in his front seat, which might be interesting depending on who was in the driver's seat.
Rashmi narrows her eyes, nose wrinkling. "…If I *didn't* love you, then I'd have to have been *phenomenally* stupid to do *half* the things I've done for you. …Well," she amends, glancing back at Mike, "stupid*er.* …But I'd *like* to think I'm not *that* out of my mind, so… Sorry, Lucas, I guess you're just stuck with me. So stop trying to pawn me off on every white knight you see, all right?"
Lucas glances at Mike, then back to Rashmi. "You said yourself you hardly knew me. So… why?"
Mike absentmindedly applies a polish-rag to a spot on one arm which he imagined had become duller. White Knight indeed.
Rashmi tilts her head, shrugging almost casually… almost. "Because I like what I see? I'm not fooled, you know… There's a sweet gooey caramel center underneath all that spiky armor you like to think works on everyone. I see that, and I know that if you'd just get rid of it all, you'd be the person you think I deserve. It's all right there… And I want to see you find it, too."
Lucas slowly nods. "Yeah…" He uses his giant glove to mash his long hair up out of his eyes. "Ah hope you're right." He leans forward, and gently kisses her on the cheek. "Ah'm plum tuckered. Ah'm gonna go grovel in my own bed." He smirks a little, so it's sort of a joke.
Mike has turned to look out the window again, not eavesdropping nor watching them at all in the reflections. Nope. Of course part of, they're between him and the door and he'd have to sneak past them to sneak out.
Rashmi reaches up, combing Lucas' hair back away from his ears. "I *know* I'm right," she says, smiling at the kiss. "Now get some decent sleep for a change, all right? And shave once in a while," she adds, nose wrinkling. "I'm not a healer, so I'm not about to deal with that kind of stubble."
Lucas smiles, a large, toothy and mischievious grin. "Ah DID shave. Just…" He shrugs, rubbing his chin with his glove, "Not this." He winks, and turns, pointing his glove at Mike. "Don't steal my girl while Ah'm gone, Mikey." And then he's heading out the door.
Mike rolls his eyes, which feels weird and gives him a glimpse of the inside of his skull. Ew. Don't do that again.
He waves goodbye though, and watches through the window for a bit before he returns to his own room.
Rashmi merely stands still as Lucas turns to leave, eyes wide. "B… yo…. I…. augh, *ew!*" Giving herself a full-body shake, she turns… right in time to see Mike take his leave. "…okay yeah I don't blame you, good night Mike…"
Text message from Mike to Rashmi: [Your boyfriend is a twink.]
From Rashmi to Mike: [some things im happier never thinking about ever]
