Power Swap: Make Me (Sean)

[Jesse Adams]

The day was like any other in Jesse’s never ending stream of ‘normal.’ He got up, he mainlined coffee, he went to classes, he smoked, he went back to his dorm. Rinse and repeat. Except on the days he had his sessions. Sessions that he was still resisting, to a degree. He’d opened up a little more in the recent months, but he still had roadblocks standing in the way of the bigger reasons he was being kept at Hammel. Until he discussed his time at MSAD’s compound at length and dealt with everything that had happened, he wasn’t going anywhere.

So, they had reached a stalemate. Neither party was backing down, and despite knowing it was what was holding him back from a chance at graduating, Jesse didn’t plan to, either.

As he walked down the hall, his mental shields entered lockdown mode. Kids had been running all over the halls yelling about things going on with their powers, and it had given him a headache. The last thing he wanted was for Sean to go poking around in his head and making it worse. He’d already taken Excedrin, but it hadn’t yet kicked in. It was going to make the session that much more unbearable. He knew what would happen. Sean would ask questions, he would refuse to answer, and they would do the dance they had started when he first came back. At some point, he’d probably be given up on, though he didn’t know what happened beyond that point.

It would all be made so much easier if he just stopped resisting and opened up. But so many dark memories accompanied those topics, and he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to deal with them like Sean wanted him to.

With that in mind, he gave his customary knock before entering and more or less gently slamming the door behind him. “Here we go again,” he muttered as he all but threw himself onto the couch, just waiting for it to start again.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had been coping slowly with the loss of his powers. He did not feel whole, did not think that he could ever feel whole without his telepathy. Just as he knew that, if he were to become blind or paraplegic one day, he would never feel whole either. He would cope, as he had been coping, and he would receive more sympathy because more people could comprehend a physical disability than the loss of one’s meta-human power, particularly something as nebulous as telepathy was in the vernacular.

At least he was functional. That was more than he could ask for, was more than some of the others who had been affected. At least he had not jumped headfirst into alcohol. At least he could get out of bed every day and do his job.

The former telepath had a mild headache, which was an improvement over the past few days. He still clung to hope that this was a positive sign.

Of course, he fully anticipated that his headache would worsen by the end of the afternoon. His sessions with Jesse rarely ended well, and he had no reason to expect a positive outcome today. Particularly since Jesse began by slamming the door.

Sean held back a sigh.

Moving to one of the armchairs by the sofa, he picked up his file. “Here we go again,” he repeated. “And how are you today?”

[Jesse Adams]

How was he today? Jesse rolled his eyes and kicked his feet up on the couch, not caring that he was still wearing his shoes, nor caring that he'd probably get told off for it. "You always ask that when you could just read my damn mind and find out yourself." He'd long since given up on shielding, as it just gave him a headache at the end of the session. His shields only went up when they started to dance around certain topics Jesse had deemed taboo, and he knew it was frustrating both of them.

"It's a stupid question anyway. I could lie, but you'd still know the truth, so why bother asking?" No, he wasn't in a cooperative mood today. "Look, just get this over with. I got a headache the size of Texas and I'm not in the mood to fuck around." Though he was quite capable of maintaining a poker face when he was in pain, Sean had been deemed safe enough to lower that particular guard around. At the very least, he trusted Sean enough not to hurt him, and sometimes that was enough. It wasn't often that the psychiatrist raised his voice to him, or made sudden moves that resulted in Jesse moving defensively, and it was because of that he let himself maintain a lower guard.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The fact of the matter was that Sean could no longer read anyone’s mind. This was a fact that he kept hidden from the students, although the rest of the staff was aware, Josh was aware, and many of the adults in the psychiatrist’s social circle were aware, like Sophie, Greg, Stefan, and Simon. He coped to the best of his ability, and the fact that he drew a firm boundary between work, whereat he had to be as strong as always, and home where he could be vulnerable aided immeasurably in achieving that goal.

“You don’t like it when I read your mind.” That was a true statement, not a pure lie, although the remark served as a deflection which made it a lie of omission. Jesse had never hidden his disdain for Sean’s powers, and the psychiatrist could not, would not, tip the power balance by making him aware of his loss. “Besides, the ability to articulate your thoughts is invaluable, so you might as well practice here.”

The boy then snapped at him, and Sean drew his lips into a thin line. “And I’m not in the mood for profanity, so you have one warning to watch your language. After that, you’ll have yard work assignments.” Josie or Thomas could give him chores to do; it might not cause Jesse to feel remorse, but he might think twice about flagrant disrespect. Then again, this was Jesse Adams, who would probably remain at Hammel long after Sean had retired.

That was not the most inspiring thought that one could have.

[Jesse Adams]

No, Jesse didn't like his mind being read. He may have projected several thoughts in the past when he didn't feel like actually discussing something like he was supposed to, but that didn't mean he liked it. He didn't like a large number of his thoughts and memories, and the idea of Sean having access to them whenever he wanted seriously unnerved him. "Doesn't stop you from doing it," he fired back, arms crossed and his bangs falling into his face. He didn't move to remove them, either. He was fine with somewhat of a physical shield between them, even if it didn't amount to much. "And I articulate just fine when I want to."

The wanting to was the problem in these sessions. They had been dancing around the obvious reason for his return for over a year now, and he never seemed to get any closer to touching the subject of M.S.A.D.. Not beyond simply displaying the events of what had happened since before he'd even come to Hammel in the first place. If he had his way, he'd hold out forever. Sadly, that wasn't an option, and he was well aware of that.

So, the stalemate it was. Green eyes glared back at Sean as he issued the warning. "Fine. I'll watch my f... mouth." It wasn't going to be easy. "What chapter are we on this time, anyway? Daddy Hit Me After Getting Bronze At A Track Meet? Or how about I Joined The Meta Terrorists And Lived?" He was being snide, yes, but he was also not swearing. And once again, the big reason he was in this room was once again left out. He didn't want to talk about Gabriel or some of the things he'd done within the compound, and he didn't have to. It wasn't like anyone could make him. Well, except Chase Kilbourne... Campbell, whatever he was calling himself now. And he wasn't in the room.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean truly did not need the amount of attitude Jesse displayed in each and every one of their appointments. Not today. He was depressed, his head hurt, he had not been sleeping, and it took every ounce of energy to keep his patience under typical circumstances. Jesse had never presented typical circumstances. From the first time that the boy had been sent to his office for tormenting his peers all those years ago he had presented attitude and tried the psychiatrist’s patience. Years later, after joining a terrorist organization and then returning, while refusing to accept any personal responsibility for it and blaming Hammel for his current situation, even brief interactions required Sean to gather every ounce of patience in his reserve.

He had depleted that reserve since the loss of his powers. He had so little spare these days.

“Take the gift of me speaking aloud for what it is and leave it at that,” he retorted, his voice firmer than he typically spoke to students to early in a session.

It grew firmer with what Jesse snapped at him, and the psychiatrist immediately reached up to rub his temples. So it would be one of these days. Glancing at his watch, he declared the time of death of civility to be ninety seconds into this appointment.

“Since you brought it up, let’s focus on M.S.A.D.” The iciness and finality in his voice implied that this was not a request.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse honestly didn’t care whether his attitude was called for or appropriate or not. His dislike of his sessions with Sean were no secret. They may have been part of his desire to come back, but actually doing them was painful at times, and frustrating with others. Most of them felt like going in circles, and while that was entirely his doing, he didn’t want to admit to it.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath, arms crossing tightly over his chest. Clearly neither of them were in the mood for this today, and he was just fine with that.

He would have been quite content to dance around the root causes of his issues once again, but the tone Sean used to speak to him stirred something in him. He never wanted to discuss M.S.A.D., but today the suggestion brought all the memories of that time to the surface, and Jesse found himself almost interested in talking about his time with them. “Okay,” he agreed, much to his confusion. “What do you want to know?” Nothing else seemed important at this moment. All he wanted to do was tell Sean all about his time with the organization, and he had no idea why.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had so little patience today. He could push through the day, as mandated by his obligations, just as he had promised to Yvette and the rest of the staff. The students needed him. Still, the headaches made concentration difficult at best, and Jesse’s attitude, Jesse’s antagonism, the fact that Jesse had yet to take full responsibility for his actions or to accept the true reasons behind these sessions, all of that wore down his already low reserves.

At the mutter, he glared at the boy. He did not want to engage in a protracted argument, but he would not let rudeness go unacknowledged.

Then, miraculously, Jesse stopped his antagonistic behavior. More than that, he agreed to talk about M.S.A.D.

The psychiatrist watched him for a moment, suspicious that there might have been sarcasm underlying his agreement. Yet, he could detect no sarcasm, no hostility.

Good.

Thank Heavens for small favors.

Sean was willing to proceed, and so, with less sharpness in his own voice, he said, “Let’s start with the beginning. Why did you run off to join M.S.A.D. in the first place?”

Of course, the psychiatrist knew, and he had other suspicions, but he needed to hear it from Jesse in his own words. That was the only way that they could make progress.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse more or less ignored the glare. He was used to those kinds of looks, especially when he was sitting in Sean’s office. His mouth often got him in trouble, and here was no different.

Still, this whole... willingness he felt to open up was alien to him. He’d never before felt this need to answer honestly and calmly, rather than kicking and balking the entire time, leading the conversation around and around in circles. This was different, and though a small piece of him was still trying hard to resist, the bigger part of him opened up. He even looked up at Sean, maintaining eye contact that was neither hostile nor challenging.

“Because Gabriel Underwood told me I had potential.” The sentence rolled off his tongue easily, though he felt the familiar internal stab at his former mentor’s name. “He said that we were better than humans, and when I thought about my dad, and the people he works with... I believed him.” Gabriel had essentially stoked an already low burning fire. “Didn’t help that my Dad more or less raised me and my brother to think that we could control people if you applied the right force. He did it all the time with his clients, making people believe they were good people despite whatever they’d done.” Where was this all coming from? “It just... made sense to go with him. He told me that Hammel was holding me back from reaching my real potential.” But that wasn’t the only reason he’d gone with the older man.

The blond’s fingers flexed slightly, trying hard to resist spilling what came next, but it was useless. Whatever was compelling him to talk kept him going. “The deeper I got in, the more Gabriel seemed to like me. I’d never had anyone like him around before, and I wanted him to like me, so I did everything to make him happy. He didn’t yell at me, or hit me. He promised to protect me. He...” Despite the compulsion to continue speaking, his fingers flexed tighter, but what was more alarming was the hot tears he felt pricking the corners of his eyes. “He loved me,” he finally murmured, quieter than before. Gabriel had never said it, but Jesse had firmly believed it from everything the older man had done, including everything from looking after him if he was hurt or sick, to other... more intimate moments. Gabriel’s faith in him and his abilities might have drawn him to M.S.A.D. in the first place, but it was his affection and promises that had kept him there. It was so wrong, and he knew that, on so many levels. But at the time, he’d been so caught up in it that it had felt so perfectly right.

And now Sean knew it, too.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Gabriel Underwood had been a sociopath. If anyone had met the clinical definition of the phrase, it had been the puppeteer. When Gabriel had been a student, Sean had kept his eye on him, although, aside from Robert, nobody had believed him when he brought up his concerns. Despite that, he had a checklist of sociopathic personality traits, and Gabriel had fit them to a “T. Superficial Charm? – Check. Manipulative? – Check. Shallow Emotions? – Check. Lack of Empathy? – Check (In spades). Narcissistic? – Check. Incapable of fidelity? – Check. (Sean knew that one due to the telepathy and later confirmations). Incapable of real human attatchment to others? – Check. Unable to feel remorse or guilt? – Check (once more in spades). Incapacity for love? – Sean was loathe to make such judgments about other people, but based on what he had learned – Check. Perceiving nothing wrong with his behavior? – Check.

The whole situation with M.S.A.D. had been a nightmare. Never in a thousand years would Sean have envisioned himself leading a ragtag group of teachers and other faculty to rescue a staff member and a student from a terrorist supremacist organization. Never would he have expected a student to turn a gun on a staff member. Never would he have seen his coworkers kill with their powers, or with weapons, or with their bare hands, and yet...

Hearing the painful confirmation of Gabriel’s manipulation did not surprise Sean, although he felt a swell of pity for Jesse. The boy had been sixteen, the product of an abusive household, and Gabriel had manipulated him, told him what he needed and wanted to hear while stroking the same part of his pleasure/pain system to emulate his father.

And he had seduced a minor. Not an innocent, but a teenager nonetheless, someone less than half his age.

Sean felt that rare righteous anger rise inside of him, and, with every ounce of patience he had left, smoothed it over, enough to prevent it from spilling outward.

“He didn’t love you,” he said, and his voice was a shade harsher than usual. Not aimed at Jesse, but aimed at Gabriel, on behalf of the boy. His keen blue eyes had a hardened look about them as he clarified, “He used you. And that never should have happened.”

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse had had other words he’d associated with Gabriel Underwood. He’d been a friend, a mentor, and a confidant. He’d also been things he’d never really voiced out loud. Mostly because deep down, he’d known it was wrong, but he’d been swept up in everything going on around him and had chosen to ignore it. It was the first time beyond his mother that he’d really felt loved, and what was more, he’d trusted Gabriel. Every time the older man’s temper had flared with other members of the group, he’d immediately curbed his anger around Jesse. And if he did scare him? There was always ways he made it up to him. Looking at that alone, Jesse couldn’t see him as a sociopath. And that was the problem. When it came to Gabriel, he had tunnel vision.

Just because he was compelled to speak didn’t mean he didn’t feel his emotions, and Sean’s remark made his own temper flare. The words coupled with the harsh tone made the blond want to throw something. “He didn’t use me. I helped him. And he did.” It wasn’t an easy thing to argue, not with all the evidence against it, but Jesse wasn’t all that willing to look at it. “You can’t say that, because you weren’t there.” Memories flooded his mind of all the times Gabriel had been nothing but kind to him, and loving. How could Sean say things like that? They weren’t true, and he didn’t want to hear it.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean kept his eyes trained on Jesse, whose argument failed to move him in the slightest. “I can say that because a man in his thirties is incapable of loving a teenager the way he told you he loved you.” There. He had said it. While it might sting, it had needed to be said.

The psychiatrist had no tolerance for adults who manipulated or abused children. He considered it the duty of all adults to do what they could to shield children and teenagers from harm (while abiding by natural consequences as learning experiences). To use a child for one’s own purposes, to take advantage of their need for affection and approval, was one of the worst things that an adult could do. That, alone, was unforgivable. Unfortunately, given everything else that Gabriel Underwood had done, the people that he had killed and maimed, the lives he had ruined, the sadistic delight he had taken in each and every action, it became yet another drop in the bucket.

The only factor keeping his voice even was that it would be morally wrong to snap at Jesse when he had been the victim of abuse, when discussing that particular voice.

“He was a horrible, wretched man, Jesse, and his manipulation is the only reason you don’t realize that.”

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse visibly flinched at Sean's words, looking as though he'd been struck by more than just a few syllables. He didn't want to admit to the fact that, technically, Gabriel had never actually said the few words to him. But all of his actions, his other words... he'd just assumed, and returned the affections in the only way Gabriel seemed to want and like. With what Sean was saying... had that all been for nothing?

God, the thought made him sick.

He'd never considered what Gabriel had done to be any kind of abuse or manipulation. Completely the opposite, really. He had been someone to trust. He'd never struck him, and thought he had lost his temper, it had never ended in violence. He'd encouraged him in everything he'd done, never telling him he wasn't good enough. He'd made promises of things to come. He'd cared in a way Jesse had never known growing up. Sure, his mother had been someone to trust, but she'd never been able to protect him from his father. With Gabe, he'd felt... safe.

And now even that was falling apart. Shuddering, the blond student wrapped his arms around himself as he faced a reality he'd never thought about, and didn't want. It couldn't be fought. Not the more he thought about it. "Make it go away," he said softly. "Make him go away." He'd danced the line before about wanting Gabriel's memories to go away, only to panic about it once he thought he'd made up his mind, too afraid to lose them, and lose Gabriel. Now? He wanted it all to disappear.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had worked with Jesse for over a year, previously failing to bring the boy to a place where he would discuss Gabriel Underwood at all, let alone acknowledge that the puppeteer had been a terrible, abusive, manipulative person who had gleefully planned for the massacre and enslavement of billions of people. As life only befitted Murphy’s Law, of course now he had finally managed to reach Jesse, now Jesse could confront everything and was horrified enough to want to do something about it.

Now when Sean no longer had his telepathy, or, more beneficially in this situation, his memory manipulation.

For as long as he had been a psychiatrist, he had incorporated his powers into his practice and his methods. His powers had always been just another tool in his box to assist patients and students in achieving health and in recovering from trauma. Due to the nature of memory manipulation, and the fact that ethically he would never bring back a traumatic memory that he erased for a person, he always sent them home to think about it before they made their final decision. He also made them sign release forms.

He still kept release forms in his desk at Hammel, although the opportunities to use them in a school setting had proven few and far between when compared with private practice. Jesse was technically adult and could sign one of his own free will.

Not that it mattered, since Sean could do nothing in this situation.

His temples continued to throb, and, surreptitiously, he reached up to rub his head briefly.

What could he say?

“Don’t think about him right now,” he suggested, as that was the best that he could do.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse didn’t want to think about him right now. That was the problem. The more he tried to push the memories away, the more they flooded back. It was all getting too much, and he honestly feared some sort of meltdown. Though Sean might have been a safe person to meltdown in front of, he didn’t want to melt down period. He wanted to be touch, and pretend that this wasn’t bothering him like it was.

Yeah, right.

The blond inhaled a shuddering breath, wondering how much trouble he’d get into if he bolted from the session. Maybe he’d go smoke a whole pack of cigarettes, or hover around the liquor store long enough to manipulate someone into buying him something. Anything to push Gabriel Underwood from his mind.

And then, just like that, at Sean’s suggestion, he stopped. The memories were still there, but he wasn’t actively thinking about them anymore. This caused another slightly, shuddering breath from him, but this time it was an exhale, and was working more to calm him. It was a slight improvement, if nothing else. “... What now? Just never think about him again?” That would be easier said than done, that was for sure.