'Tis The Season (Part Seven)

Laura Kinney – "What I Cannot Give Myself"

I didn't think Bellamy despised anyone enough to hate them. Usually, it was because when we came across enemies that could evoke that emotion from him, he has little hesitation about fighting to kill. But there were some people that he didn't like, yet couldn't do anything about short of avoiding them... because they were supposedly on his side.

I am told that Julian Keller used to be one of those people, but eventually they became something approaching friends. That was achieved over time through understanding and compromise. The same goes, more or less, for Emma Frost. Not quite the same, however, because she holds a position of authority.

There was one person at Xavier's that Bellamy for certain quite detested – Jay Guthrie. Well, for the time being, at least. He was to be taken home, and would likely not be returning.

It was... difficult to ascertain the mood of the student body about this. Many pitied him, as he had been taken advantage of. Many others wanted something done to him, as his actions had resulted in deaths of mutant children and had put the rest of us in mortal danger.

But, then again, Bellamy had always encouraged me to form my own opinion about things. I was not meant to agree with the way he or anyone else saw things simply because someone held a position of influence over me.

To that end, I sought Jay out. It was easy to find him. He still smelled faintly of the substance that Dr. Roekel had injected him with.

I opened the door to the roof of one of the student dormitories to find Jay sitting by the ledge alone, staring out over the campus grounds. Even though it was snowing, the cold did not seem to bother him.

I made my approach obvious by crunching snow under my boots to avoid the chance of confrontation. He spared me half a glance before turning his attention back to our surroundings.

There was an air of melancholy around him. One I was very familiar with. It made reaching out to him feel less awkward than initiating many of my other interactions did.

"Hello," I offered in greeting.

It was this that surprised him; that anyone reached out to him at all, "What are you doing here?"

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my coat, "I came to talk."

"Huh," Jay hummed, "Never took you for much of a conversationalist," I didn't blame him. Beyond standard greetings, I was still finding my footing when it came to speaking with others for anything other than interrogation.

"It is not my strong suit," I begrudgingly admitted, "Still..."

Jay scoffed, bitterness in his tone, "Don't know why you'd bother. Haven't you gotten the message. I'm a pariah around here," His despair read clearly on his face, "...Not like it's for no reason."

I did not bother sitting with him. Instead, I stood a comfortable distance away, allowing him his space, "You can see that there is reason for it?"

"Of course I do," Jay snapped, "People were hurt because I was in my own feelings. My teammates, who wanted to be my friends, they were hurt because of me."

All of these were accurate points to make, "Yes."

For the first time since we'd began speaking, Jay turned to me, for some reason alarmed. Why was he surprised? I was agreeing with him, "You aren't going to try and make me feel better?" He asked, sounding conflicted.

"Why would I?" I replied, "You did all of those things; things that put me and the ones I care for in danger."

Confusion gave way to annoyance on Jay's end, "Then why are you here?"

I felt that honesty would be the best way to get the information that I was after, "I want perspective. Understanding," I told him.

At that, annoyance gave way to anger, a reaction I was very used to dealing with from others, "I keep hearing people say that! Everyone says that they understand how I feel, or that they want to! They have no idea what they're talking about!"

I could not help but flinch when Jay snapped at me, "You believe people are patronizing you."

"How could I not?" He shouted back in the silent winter air. With a flap of his wings that blew snow about, he pushed himself to his feet, pointing at me accusingly, "You! Right now! You're doing it too!"

"But I am not," I muttered, kicking myself for feeling so small in the moment. Why did this always happen to me? "When I say that I understand-."

"-How could you ever?" Jay interrupted, hitting himself on the chest, "Julia died because of me! Because she loved me. I should be with her. At the very least, she should be alive instead of me. And I just can't..."

He trailed off, and I knew what he wanted to say, "You can't..."

I knew what he wanted to say, because there were many times I felt the same way about my own past.

Eventually, Jay managed to force it out, "I can't get over it the way everyone wants me to, and I can't just die the way I want to!"

Just like I thought. I closed my eyes and let the gravity of what he'd said sink in for the both of us. Once he'd told me something that I don't believe he'd said out loud to anyone, even family, he seemed mortified, as though I would judge him.

How odd. What place did I have to judge anyone for harboring such thoughts?

"You are right," I admitted with a nod, "Our circumstances are not the same."

"See?" Jay said, as though I had proven his earlier point. He didn't seem as happy about it as he thought he would have.

"Did you kill her yourself?" I asked quietly.

Jay was taken aback by my question, "W-What?"

I repeated myself, expanding on my original query, "Your lover, this Julia, did you kill her yourself?"

Jay clenched his fists. It seemed I had a knack for upsetting him, "Of course not! I loved her! Loved her more than anything in the world!"

"Oh," I simply stood blinking at him as I tried to think of some eloquent way to give my reasoning. I was not the best at such things, and fell back on the blunt truth, "…I killed my mother, you see. That is why I ask. The only person in the world who cared about me, who wanted better for me, and I killed her like the thoughtless animal my creators wanted me to be."

As I spoke, I held up my hand and drew my claws. Jay couldn't take his eyes off of them. He watched them all the way as I pulled my arm from the sleeve of my jacket and cut a deep, long wound. Blood spilled onto the snow beneath us, but just as quickly as the injury was formed, it vanished.

"It helps... sometimes," I said wiping the blood off of my arm and smearing it on the snow. A few scrapes of my boot and it was mixed in with the rest of the white snow surrounding us, "It never fixes anything though."

I hurt myself, time and time again, to punish myself for my failures; for the things I'd done to harm others. My claws were very useful in that regard. Sometimes I still did it. It did not matter, I could heal, after all. I kept it from others as best as I could. Bellamy did not know. Neither did the friends I have made at school. I am certain that Logan knows, however he does not mention it to me.

Once I was finished, I waited for Jay to rebut. It took him quite some time to find the words he wanted. Had I said too much? I couldn't help but feel self-conscious about his reaction.

"You..." Jay started to say before taking a little more time to gather his thoughts, "Jeez. You had to turn this into a competition, didn't you?"

If that was what he thought I had been doing, that was my mistake, "You were the one who insisted that no one could understand," I said, defending myself.

Bellamy had once told me he didn't know anyone who could beat me in the 'Pain Olympics'. I am still not entirely sure what that meant, but I felt it applied.

Perhaps it was my unwillingness to engage him at his level of anger, but as the conversation continued, Jay had visibly settled down. It seemed that he was not the type to take passivity as an opening to be more aggressive.

"Why does any of this even matter to you?" He asked, sounding tired.

Why indeed. Why did I bother? Why did I care at all? From what I understood, Jay would be leaving at winter break, and he wouldn't be returning. It was not my problem. It was soon to be no one's problem but Jay's and his immediate family's.

Even I found myself trying to make sense of my own thoughts and actions. No one had asked me to speak with him. I hadn't sought him out with the intention of easing the mind of anyone else close to me. In a way, I had done it to ease my own mind.

I tried and failed to put my own reasoning into words. It felt like trying to translate a language I was unable to read into another that I barely could, "I suppose I just... wanted to give someone what I cannot give myself. But it does not seem to have helped," I apologized, "I am sorry."

"..." Jay did not reply, and I took that as my dismissal.

With a nod, I began heading back to the stairwell that would take me back downstairs and out of the cold. I felt Jay's gaze linger on my back, but I did not turn to face him again. I had taken up enough time from his solitary reflection for my own selfish reasons.

What did I think I could do to ease someone's mind when I was incapable of doing so for myself?

Julian Keller – "Burning Bridges I'm Still On"

So... treating people like crap for two years has consequences. Who knew?

I used to rule Xavier's. Out of all of the students there to learn how to use their powers, I was the best. I came from the richest family. I had the best, coolest powers, telekinesis. I led the best squad with the strongest kids, the Hellions, led by the best teacher, Emma Frost.

Times were good. We might have bumped heads with a few of the others that didn't understand their place, but who cared? When you were top dog, it was natural to have to deal with jealousy.

But somewhere along the line, something had changed at school. If losing prestige was a thing, that was what I'd say happened. Slowly but surely, so slowly, I didn't see it until the process was complete, the Hellions weren't the it-team anymore, and I wasn't the big man on campus.

All of a sudden, no one paid attention, no matter how much noise I made. It didn't seem like anything I and my team had done could measure up to what someone else was usually into. People didn't get out of my way in the hall. They didn't stop and take a glance when me and my friends came walking through. Cess and Santo, they didn't seem to notice, but I did. It never mattered to them as much as it did to me. It was almost like we were just like everyone else.

I couldn't tell you when it started, but I could tell you when I realized that I'd lost my spot. When it was announced that a new X-Men roster would be formed with the best of all of the active student squads I figured I was on the short list of people who would be picked to lead it. I mean, who else was there?

The Cuckoos weren't independent enough thinkers to make clutch calls in the field. Match was okay with the Paragons, but was 'meh' at best with leading. I thought Sofia was just the greatest, but the fact that she and Prodigy had to split leadership of the New Mutants to make the whole thing work? Hah, dead on arrival from that moment on. None of them were getting it.

The only real competition I had out of the existing leaders was the aforementioned 'someone else'. Marcher, Solaris, of the Paladins. I could admit, he was capable of doing the work. He had proved he had the stomach for the life, and had what it took when the action started, but I always figured when it came down to it, I would get the nod. For fuck's sake, I had an in with the headmistress. I literally picked my codename because of her.

The weirdest thing though? When it was announced that Marcher would be the guy, I wasn't even mad. It wasn't like I hated the guy. Sure, we were at each others throats when he first showed up, but when that mellowed out we started getting along more and hanging out.

He was actually cool. And he wasn't soft. You didn't have to watch your words around him, in case you offended him. If you gave him a hard time, he'd give it right back to you just as hard. It was right up my alley.

A lot of the time, whenever we were in some kind of common area, if we were eating lunch with the others, even just walking between classes, students would come up to us; to him. After one time in particular when we were stopped outside, I called it out.

"Why do these losers like you so much?" I asked as we parted ways from the group of younger students that had come up to us.

Marcher looked back and mouthed an apology to them before he answered me, "Well, first of all, it probably helps that I don't call them losers. Seriously, what the hell?"

Like it really mattered to him. On any given day, you could find his surly ass glowering around campus just as easily as not. The other day at lunch, he'd caught Hope Abbott glaring a hole through him and stared her back down until she got uncomfortable and left the room.

"Whatever," I said, "You're just as big of a jerk as I am."

For some reason, Marcher thought that was funny and laughed, "Okay, I hate myself, and even I wouldn't say that much. You used to be an actual bully. Like, the mutant version of the bad guy from 80's ski movies, " He joked, "I'm surprised you never asked anyone if they know who your dad is, or threatened to tear down the community center."

I wasn't a bully. Anyone who had been around the school could tell you that the whole place operated like a food chain. I had to assert my place at the top. That was all.

"Who did I bully?" I asked, challenging him to provide examples.

Marcher looked at me like he thought I was an idiot, "Can I just point out all the obvious ones, or do I have to dip into the more obscure ones? Because right off the top of my head, there's Nori, then there's me."

I hoped I didn't wince. I still hadn't settled things with Ashida after the little episode we'd had in the Danger Room, and I didn't want to touch anything involving her with a ten-foot pole, but Marcher had been the one to bring it up, "You and Ashida fought back."

"That doesn't make it not bullying," Marcher said, "All I remember about meeting you is you getting pissy that I talked to your girl, who wasn't even your girl yet, by the way. Even if she was, it still would have been some toxic b.s. the way you handled it."

I remembered it perfectly. I thought Marcher was trying to look tough in hand-to-hand combat class and get over with Sofia. I'd meant to push him around a bit to put him in his place, "And then you shot me."

Marcher nodded, confirming the chain of events, "And then I shot you. And I like to think we all learned an important lesson that day."

I sure did, "Always learn someone's powers before you start something," I said.

Marcher was far from impressed, "I'd hoped the lesson was not starting things at all, but some progress is better than none, I guess," He replied, "The point is, you treated people like garbage for a long time, and that trickles down. No one cares who you are. It's what you do that matters."

Of all the lame, cliché tripe that could have come out of someone's mouth. I wouldn't have expected it from him of all people.

"I wonder how you're juggling three jobs and school. X-Man, R.A., now you're the spare guidance counselor? Impressive," I scoffed, "Miss me with that elementary school, 'character counts' shit, please."

Marcher didn't get defensive at all, "Sure. As soon as you can give me an actual reason why out of everyone in this school, a grand total of five can stand being around you for longer than a few minutes at a time."

"They're jealous because I'm rich."

"You're not rich anymore."

"Because I'm the strongest mutant at school then."

"Try again once you're done telekinetically patting yourself on the back."

What did he want me to say? That once you stripped all of the other stuff away from me – the money, my power, my leadership position – there was a distinct lack of positive traits about me? It wasn't like I didn't know that.

I wasn't smart like Alleyne. I wasn't a funny, nice guy that everyone liked, the way Wing was. I didn't even command respect from others like Marcher did.

"What can I say?" I eventually said, "I'm an expert at burning bridges I'm still on."

"Yeah. It's great that you can admit that. Self-awareness is dope," Marcher said, patronizingly. I wanted to chuck him into the air, "You want to know something though? Just being aware that you're a douchebag doesn't make you a better person. You still have to fix it."

A good idea. Not something I felt like putting the time and effort into though, "I'm not going to spend the rest of my time here kissing hands and shaking babies."

Marcher shook his head, "You don't have to. Just develop a sense of empathy. Whenever you interact with someone, stop and take a moment to think, 'Would I like it if someone treated me like this?'" He looked at me incredulously, "I shouldn't have to tell you this. They teach the golden rule in kindergarten for Christ's sake."

I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked down, "I shouldn't even care."

"But you do."

I just couldn't help but keep thinking back. Ashida. In the Danger Room, when she'd yelled at me, the look in her eyes. I'd never seen that kind of raw hatred directed at me before. That kind of emotion, I had caused that. It wasn't some prejudiced, faceless human yahoo with a single brain cell who could only think 'mutant bad'. She was a person that I knew. A real girl. Not one that I was particularly fond of, to be sure, but did it matter?

Even after she'd first shown up at school, what had she done to get me to treat her the way I did? Was I as hard on her as others? Was I worse and just didn't see them break down in front of me the way Ashida did?

It was all too much to think about, and honestly, I didn't want to. It made me feel a bit sick. I didn't like thinking that I was the bad guy, but the harder I thought about it, the harder it was to convince myself that I was just a top guy doing top guy things, instead of some superpowered prick terrorizing other kids.

It all weighed heavy in my mind. I had to get it out in the open, "Before, you said you thought I could be a good person. Did you really mean that?"

Marcher, either not being aware of what was going on in my head, or not caring, gave me a sour look, "Please don't tell me we're having a moment here. I'm just trying to get you to not be such a dick, dude."

"Answer the fucking question, would you?"

"Yes, Julian. I think you can be," Marcher said. And right before I could start feeling a bit better about myself, Marcher pulled a Marcher, making his response as backhanded as possible, "And I think that one day I won't have to hold your leash or have the other Hellions do it for you to keep you from pissing on everyone's rug. But the fact that you're asking me any of this proves we're still a long way away from that."

"Huh..." I hummed to myself. Reaching out with my powers I grabbed Marcher with my TK and threw him off of the sidewalk into a nearby snowdrift, "...Well, some progress is better than none."