2010-01-13: Spillover


Rashmi_icon.jpg Lucas_icon.jpg Dallas_icon.jpg

Summary: In the aftermath of the brawl at the pool, answers are gained and friendships broken

Date: January 13, 2010

Log Title Spillover

Rating: PG

Rashmi and Sophie's Room

Slightly bigger than the old room, the new rooms fit two students comfortably. Each room has off white walls with a dark brown carpet. There is one window in the middle of the wall that looks out over the grounds. Each room has two beds, two dressers, two desks and two closets, one for each student.

Lucas knocks on Rashmi's door, it's a muffled thud beneath his giant glove.

"Coming!" There's the clatter of a pen, and a few moments later the door half-opens, Rashmi turned to one side to fuss with the curtain of hair that seems to have gotten itself tangled on a bedpost. "Ow! Rgh… Sorry, sorry, be right there…"

Lucas is standing there. He's wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants and a flannel shirt, his knees and butt dirty and wet. The right side of his face is red and puffy, like he's been punched, and there's a little bit of a dirt smudged on his cheek with a line running down it from dried up tears. He doesn't say anything, just looks off down the hall.

Rashmi extricates her hair from the bedpost, looks up, and freezes. "…Lucas…?" Her voice is a small, shocked whisper, and without another word she steps back, opening the door all the way. "Come in, come in, what *happened* to you?!"

Lucas shuffles into the room, moving to the bed, where he sits, and then lays on his side. He pulls his legs up to his chest, curling up almost fetal.

Rashmi watches this, eyes wide and concerned. As Lucas curls up, she bites on her lower lip, then moves herself to the bed. As gently as she can manage, she lifts Lucas' head off the mattress, slipping a leg underneath it as she sits, running her fingers through Lucas' hair. "Oh god, Lucas, what happened…?"

Lucas just lays there, staring across the room at the other bed in the dorm room. "…Ah want to go home…" he whispers, his voice almost hoarse. He moves his free hand up to her leg, and clutches it like a child.

Rashmi's hand freezes, her eyes widening. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she closes her eyes and takes a slow, deep breath, resuming the calming fingers through his hair. "You could, if you wanted," she says, slowly, gently. "I'd miss you of course… But if you really need to…?"

Lucas shakes his head a little, still staring blankly. "They don't understand… Ah didn't tell them, Ah just…" He closes his eyes. "She's dying… An' Ah just…" He shakes, with a sob, then a second. Finally, he curls up a little tighter in his ball, and just begins weeping.

Rashmi frowns, eyes darting back and forth as the pieces begin to fall into place. Without a word, she slides off the bed, sinking to her knees in front of the curled-up Lucas, and wraps her arms around him. Any attempt at words, likely either to fall on deaf ears or do more harm than good, so for now all she can do is give that simple closeness, a warm presence beside him.

Lucas leans into her, and continues to cry. His weeping continues for quite some time, eventually tapering off, leaving him exhausted and drifting to sleep.

As Lucas' body relaxes, Rashmi moves away from beside him, just enough to brush his hair away from his face. "Lucas… Lucas, sweetie… Come on… You know you can't sleep here, we'll both get in deep, deep trouble. Maybe we could take a walk, hmm?"

Lucas sighs, "…Ah'm already in deep trouble…" he mumbles, and cuddles into her a little more.
"Then let's not make it worse, okay?" Her voice is gentle, and there's a small, trembling smile on her face, but the sadness and worry behind it may as well be stamped across her forehead. "Come on. Let's get you some fresh air."

Lucas slowly pushes up off the bed. He wipes off his face, his glove sizzling as it rubs off the moisture from his cheek. "Ah'm okay…" He nods, "Ah'm okay. Ah should… Um…" He sighs, and pushes himself to his feet. "Ah should get back to my dorm."

Rashmi's eyebrow rises. "Lucas, honey…" Sighing, she lets her head fall, forehead resting against his. "You told me once, you don't need saving. And you're right. But, you know… it doesn't make you any less, if you just… ask for a hand now and again, you know?"

Lucas studies her face for a long moment, and then slowly offers her a little nod. "Yeah." He swallows, and begins to walk towards her door. "Would… Um…" He furrows his brow, looking back at her with puppy dog eyes as he rubs his swollen cheek. "Would you check on Dallas for me? Make sure he's okay?"

Rashmi stands with him, nodding very slightly. "All right… you'll tell me what happened tomorrow, I hope…? You know I don't want to pry, but… Lucas I'm *really* worried for you."

Lucas nods silently. He shrugs, a limp little gesture, "Ah'm fine." He looks her in the eyes, and gives a little smile, "Ah'm fine."

Rashmi brings a hand up to rest on his cheek, thumb brushing over the tear-tracks. "You will be," she says softly. "But, you aren't now. If you don't want to talk about it…? Okay. I don't like it, Lucas, and I'll never pretend I do. But, I'm *trusting* you to come to me when you need to, like now."

Lucas closes his eyes, leaning his cheek into her hand for a moment. Then he nods, "Good night, Rash." He turns, opens the door, and walks down the hall towards the elevator.

Rashmi watches Lucas leave, frowning quietly to herself. "Good night," she calls after him, closing the door as he steps into the elevator.

Xavier Mansion — Medical Bay

The Medical Bay contains the latest medical equipment to patch up students and X-Men with the smallest and worst injuries. Six beds line the walls for injured patients. Equipment lines the walls, medicine in the cabinets, and more serious medical supplies locked in cabinets. One this about this room it screams sterilization.

Late evening, and Rashmi has stormed through the halls of the Mansion after Lucas paid her a short visit, lips set in a thin line, care taken to avoid any real contact with the teachers. Though it may not technically be curfew yet for the older students, her excursion is cutting it close enough to make going unnoticed more than wise. The first two floors of the mansion covered, her next stop is Medbay, the door opened as carefully and quietly as possible.

Dallas is standing at one of the sinks with a selection of various first aid supplies laid on next to the basin. After years of contact sports, this isn't exactly the first time he's been hit in the mouth. He's gargling with peroxide and water, wincing at the sting when Rashmi comes in and then spits it out, mixed with a small amount of blood from cuts on his lips and inside his mouth. He notices the motion in the mirror and looks at her through the glass and then goes back to what he's doing.

Rashmi's eyes glide over the medbay once, then snap back toward Dallas as his presence at the sink registers. Entering the medbay completely, she shuts the door behind her, braid pulled over her shoulder to keep both hands visibly busy as she starts to approach him.

Dallas fiddles with a small bottle of liquid wound sealer and looks up again as Rashmi approaches. From the swelling and bruising around his mouth, he took a pretty good hit. His expression is less than friendly. "What?" The tone is clipped and flat, uninviting to say the least.

Rashmi comes to a stop a few paces away, head tilting to one side. "Thought I'd look for 'the other guy,'" she says, voice airy. "And, well… *mine* was too much of a wreck to tell me much of anything, so I figured you'd have a better idea why the two of you got in a fight?"

Dallas looks back at Rashmi in the mirror. "Because your boyfriend is a psycho. Keep him away from me." He's still obviously furious and not communicative. He begins to dab the thick liquid in the cuts on his lips, trying not to wince when anybody is watching.

Rashmi's eyebrow twitches upward. "Mmm-hmm… And that's why he broke down crying on my bed, instead of getting patched up?"

Dallas turns around to look at Rashmi. "And?" There is a world of frost in that tone. It's as though he's mentally shut the book on Lucas and just doesn't care what happens to him anymore. "Find a teacher or somebody who cares. Just keep him away from me."

"And," Rashmi says, cold impatience tinging her voice, "I'd *like* to know what my boyfriend did to earn himself a punch in the mouth, all right? And seeing as it was *you* he picked a fight with, I'm *extra* worried! Or did you think I'm just here about him?"

Dallas shrugs and says, "If you don't know him by now, then maybe you need to work on that. He did what he always does. Mouth off. And when somebody said something back, he went psycho. I threw him off and /Robyn/ punched him. Do you know weird that is? Robyn's never hit anybody else with his fist in his life, I think." He winces as all the talking pulls at the sealing cuts. "Lucas is a freak and he's taken his one free shot with me. If he talks to me again, I'm going to hurt him." That last sentence isn't at all heated. It's just …true. Dallas honestly and obviously means it.

There's a moment of silence, then Rashmi's eyebrows draw together. "Let me guess… Somebody's mother got into it, right?"
Dallas shrugs. "Yea. And that excuses him trying to kill people." He turns back to the mirror, dabbing a paper towel to clean up dried blood around his mouth. "Go away. We don't have anything to talk about either."

Rashmi's eyes narrow briefly. "….This how you treat all your friends, then? Just because a couple of punches get thrown, that's it for everyone, mh?"

Dallas blinks and says, "What /friend/? He's made fun of me and messed with my head at every opportunity. Every time I've talked to him he's just been an ass. Every. Time. You know what? That's /not/ being a friend. That's being a jerk. And I'm not dealing with it. He's /your/ friend. Not mine."

"You're not telling *him* to take a hike, though, are you?" The question, carefully measured, even, and neutral-voiced. There's no anger in her eyes, only a vague disappointment. "Dallas… All I'm asking is to have this straight. Just tell me what happened. It's *important.* To me."

Dallas shrugs. "You're with him. That means we aren't going to be friends. Your loyalty is with him. And he showed up, broke into a private conversation with a smart ass comment, I said something about his mother and he went crazy, jumped me from behind and stood there bawling and demanding I take it back like a three year old. He's nuts. And just plain mean. Like a rabid dog. And I'm done with him."

Rashmi's face drains of color. "…I see," she says softly, shaking her head. "So… I guess you'll just… I dunno, have to hope that none of your other friends ever know people who have problems with you. Or… y'know… god forbid, live with the idea, every minute, that their mother's dying by inches, half a country away, and break when someone makes a stupid Your Mom crack." With a shrug, she turns. "You could have been a good friend, Dallas… Talk to me again when you've settled down, we'll see if you've changed your mind."

Dallas shrugs angrily and says, "And that gives him a free pass to do and say all the crap he has? I'm sorry about his mom but that still doesn't make it right. I'm not going to be his punching bag because his life is hard." He gestures towards the door, "Don't count on me coming to you. I'm /not/ in the wrong here and I'm not going to pretend that I am. Get your boyfriend on drugs or something and if he gets sane, then you two can come to /me/ and apologize. Or just stay the hell away."

"No," Rashmi rejoin, whirling to fix a level gaze at the boy. "*Nobody* has a free pass, for God's sake! What is *wrong* with you?! Is *everything* just black or white?! My Lord, I could almost envy that…" With a half-laugh, she shakes her head. "But the rest of us have to live in the real world, Dallas… And it's a world where the *whys* do matter from time to time."

Dallas just crosses his arms over his chest. "Hey, I almost killed my grandfather. Does that mean I can beat somebody up? I mean, I have a reason /why/." He shakes his head again. "I know a lot of guys like him. And whatever his excuse is, it boils down to him just wanting to hurt people. /You/ can sign up for that. I'm not." He pauses. "We done?"

"No." Folding her arms across her chest, Rashmi takes on a look that could charitably be described as mulish. "I don't give up on my *friends* just because they're getting snippy. I like to think I'm better than just tossing them away when it's not convenient to speak to them anymore. So unless you've got something better than this high-horse crap to hand me, I'm not letting go until I'm satisfied."

Dallas looks at Rashmi a long moment and then starts to walk past her. His voice is even and low, angry, yes, but cold with the kind of anger that doesn't fade. "I hope you like the back of these uniforms. Cause that's all you're going to be seeing 'until you're satisfied'." With that he opens the door to make an exit.

"Dallas." The word is sharp, a whip-crack in the sterile walls of the medbay.

Dallas stops but doesn't turn back. His shoulders are set and stiff and his stance as tight as his voice. "What?"

Rashmi turns slowly, taking a moment to study the lines of tension in his stance. "I didn't come here to pass judgment on you. I always figured Lucas was going to earn himself a tooth less one of these days, and y'know what? That's fine." Striding down the room, she moves up beside him, staring into his visible eye. "So we'll see how long you can stay angry when you're the only one keeping it up. I can wait. And I'll make sure Robyn understands the same thing."

Dallas turns to give Rashmi a flat, level look that seems almost emotionless. Until one looks at his eyes. There is a well of rage, fear and guilt that has been building up since the day he first manifested his powers and coming to the school only made more complex and deep. And now all that emotion has flared up and by some psychological alchemy been transformed into a cold, hard tempered emotion not unlike hate. Unyielding. Unforgiving. Unreasonable. While his tone is flat and almost calm, his eyes blaze almost as brightly as they do in his shadow form. "Then wait." And with that, he shrugs past and heads for the elevator.

Rashmi stares after Dallas, lips pressed together in a thin line. "As long as I need," she vows under her breath, as the elevator doors close on Dallas.

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