A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste (Jesse Adams)

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse was odd when it came to touching. Even a willing volunteer would be met with a certain amount of caution, if not a full recoil before he was able to bring himself to handle the contact. It had only gotten worse in recent years. In the right circumstances, even a raised hand by an adult man could be enough to make him flinch away. Thinking back to when Verax had kicked the crap out of him, he hadn’t once backed away or flinched, nor had he defended himself. Yet when Fiona had patched him up just a few minutes later, he had spent the entire time rigid and controlling his breathing so as not to panic. This wasn’t going to be easy. Stupid power.

At least Vincent didn’t argue his mentor’s abilities when it came to powers and training. It didn’t matter how many teachers he might meet in his lifetime, he was sure that he would never find anyone like Gabriel Underwood again. That alone made him hurt a little, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. At this point, he was excellent at repressing things like that. Sure, one day he might cause some kind of damage, or lose it like he had with Fiona, but until then he would continue to stuff his actual feelings deep down. If anyone was actually clued in as to how much Gabe’s death had affected the teenager, he could guess at how much more time he’d spend in Sean’s office. It was better to pretend like he’d gotten over it than actually deal with his feelings.


The blond waited impatiently as he wanted Vincent think. All he wanted as an answer, to see if it was worth attempting. Hell, he’d probably attempt it even if the answer was no. It seemed the only option in front of him to cope with everything. If he could just erase certain people and actions from his memory, perhaps the notion to change would be that much easier. When Vincent finally answered him, his expression went from eager to nearly crushed before he was able to morph it back into a mere interest. “Oh.” It wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear, that was for certain. “How you ever heard of a memory manipulator actually wanting to do that?” He hoped his voice reflected the faked innocence of the question. If he was tipped off in any manner... well... he did not want to discuss this with Sean. Their visits were invasive enough without having to deal with the desire to lobotomize himself.

It was a good thing he was excellent at faking things.

Jesse gave him a look at the idea of talking to Dr. Neville about it. Sean would see right through his lies. “That’s okay,” he replied in a much lighter tone than he wanted to use. “Your verifying it is more than enough. Besides, I see him enough.” The smallest spark of defiance rose up in his gaze again before he blinked it away. “Y’know. Because I’m so messed up.” He stretched, getting bored and a little unsettled by doing nothing. “Are we done, or do you need more proof I’m good at what I do?”

[Vincent Meian]

The instantaneous and wilting change away from eager was noticed, but not commented on. It wasn't really his business as the boy's trainer, but it would certainly be thought on later - changing or erasing one's own memories was something many people who experienced trauma or loss wanted to do. Applying those changes was also something of a retreat; a last, desperate hope because someone couldn't see the way out of their own misery... or didn't want to deal with the pain long enough for it to heal. Either way, it was a form of self-correction that could lead to far more harm than it would heal.

Not that it had stopped him from considering it now and then.

"It is not uncommon for human beings to distance themselves from their pasts," the ex-soldier answered, dodging the question slightly. "Especially if there has been severe trauma. I do not believe memory manipulators are exempt from this feeling." Carefully choosing his words would likely not make a difference one way or the other, but Vincent didn't think Jesse wanted to talk about the reasons behind his 'idle curiosity'.

The idea that it wasn't such an academic interest was compounded further with the airy brush off of his suggestion. The blonde also seemed to believe that his talking with the therapist was simply because he did not fit society's norms, and while the Japanese man could neither confirm nor deny it, he firmly believed that anyone could benefit from talking to people about their problems and experiences, whether that person had a degree in the field or not; was psychic or not.

"There are other aspects of your power I would like to test," he stated coolly. "You have said that you have difficulty repairing the changes you make in a person's memories. I need to see how much you have left to learn."

The implication was obvious; the next step was to fix the change he'd just made in Vincent's memories. For someone who self-professed that he was as good as Jesse did, that shouldn't be too difficult, right?

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse had actually attempted changing his memories already, in a fit of rage and grief. He’d figured that was why it hadn’t worked in the first place. He hadn’t been focused enough, and since the attempt at the compound, he hadn’t tried again. As much pain as the memories of Gabriel caused, he was also terrified to lose them. The man had become so important to him, and dealing with the hurt that had come with him had become too much on more than one occasion. There had to be a way to get around it, and he’d hoped that his powers had held the key.

Sadly, Vincent had just dashed those hopes.

He snorted and crossed his arms at the answer he got, scuffing his sneaker against the floor. “Human beings are weak,” he grumbled. Nevermind the fact that he wanted to do that himself. The difference was, he wasn’t weak. “Besides, I don’t care. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to lobotomize myself by accident. Case closed.” He was quickly growing more sullen about it, and he wanted the conversation to go somewhere else.

“What other aspects?” The blond drew himself back up in the chair, his back tight against it. Oh. Repair. It was never something focused on at the compound, because that hadn’t been his intended job. His job had been to alter memories and make the change permanent. He’d never been expected to go back and undo it. Sure, he’d started learning it at Hammel before his departure, but he’d never really listened. He shot his trainer a brief look of defiance. “I didn’t pay enough attention the first time to fix it.” He was stalling, mostly because he didn’t want to make contact again. “And it’s starting to give me a headache.” That was more hedging, and a bit of a lie, but he didn’t care. One round of touching his trainer was enough for one day.

[Vincent Meian]

I'm sure. While he was suspicious that Jesse was hiding behind a facade of uncaring - certain, in fact - it was not his place to argue that. It would be prying, and prying now was not a trustworthy action. If the boy wanted to fight this and himself, he could continue to do so until he saw reason. Until then, they would simply let the matter lie until it began to cause problems.

The trainer's countenance darkened considerably at the dodge, even though it was something to be expected. For someone who disliked being touched, a power that forced him to touch people was something undesirable and definitely something to fight against. But after all the dodging and sullen argument and lackluster effort, Vincent was tired of treating the boy so softly. "I do not believe you," he stated bluntly, leaning forward again in a subconsciously aggressive position. "If you do not complete the task I have set before you, you will remain here until you do."

His tone brooked no argument, and his face was hard-set in grim determination. He would not be swayed by pleading and would be unimpressed with argument. Jesse could and would practice this, even if they were to sit here for the remainder of the day.

[Jesse Adams]

It wouldn’t matter if Vincent tried to pry or not. Jesse had no interest in attempting to trust him. Trust hadn’t worked out well for him in the past, beyond a few special exceptions. Currently, his trainer did not fit into those exceptions. Nor did he plan to include him into that small circle of trust. Adult men were generally not to be trusted. Gabriel had been the one small exception there.

The moment Vincent leaned forward across the desk, Jesse recoiled like he was expecting to be struck. It made him look vulnerable, and weak, which he hated, but he couldn’t help it. At this point it was like a reflex. Vincent had just gone from slightly threatening to full bore threat, and in times like that he very often gave in. It had happened only once at the compound, after a fight with one of the members that hadn’t liked his position as their leader’s protégé. Gabriel had been angry and yelling, violent with the other member, and Jesse had more or less submitted, going so far as to recoil from the only person he’d trusted completely in a long, long time.

With his heart hammering in his chest slightly, and his gaze now firmly on the floor, Jesse showed a very different side of himself. When push came to shove, and he felt threatened like this, he did what he always did. Rolled over. This time he was the one to slide his hand across the desk, fighting to keep the tremble out of it as he did so. “Fine,” he said softly, the bite gone. “I’ll fix it.” He could, and he would, if it would make Vincent stop making him feel like a cornered animal.

[Vincent Meian]

The sudden recoiling brought the trainer up with a start, and his expression became one of surprise before melting into one of shame as he settled back into a straight backed position. He hadn't meant to... no, that wasn't true. He had meant to threaten, to be stern and intimidating. To make the student before him take his statements seriously. To follow directions with no argument or back talk.

He hadn't meant to terrify the boy.

Very carefully, Vincent slowly reached out and touched Jesse's hand, fingertips to fingertips and nothing more. The older man fully expected a jolt, but waited patiently regardless, his expression tightly closed now and his voice silent. It would be only a few moments, but should the teen finish this task he would be free to go about his business, given a few day's reprieve from him. The poor soul would probably need it.

It probably wasn't any consolation to the frightened boy, but the other man truly felt bad that he'd scared him so. Vincent was an intimidating figure to a number of people, even when he was calm and serious. The implied threat in his posture and voice had made men bigger and more stable than Jesse think twice about picking fights with him. Negligence had caused this dilemma - forgetting the signs he'd seen already and not controlling his temper more carefully.

It would not happen again.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse didn’t even notice the reaction he got out of his trainer. His eyes were firmly on the ground, and he wasn’t planning to look up anytime soon. Eye contact tended to make these situations so much worse. It didn’t matter that logically he knew a trainer could not be physically abusive to students, his reflexes and past experiences had the better of him. He flexed his fingers in his lap before giving up one hand to the desk, dreading the contact.

Even the light touch made him flinch slightly, but he worked through it, squeezing his eyes closed as he retraced his path in Vincent’s surface memories. It was easy to find the change, at least for him. A small blip where the memory should be smooth. It didn’t take much to undo his damage, etching off the change to return it to normal. The moment he finished, he backed out again and pulled his hand right back into his lap.

“Can I go now?” His voice was still sullen, but it’s edge was gone. Instead there was a real sense of hesitation, like he didn’t think he should be asking for permission, but was doing so anyway. He just wanted to get out and go back to his dorm, which was his only real safe place at the moment. While he would be the first to admit that he wasn’t comfortable showing this much weakness, he had no real choice. The next time he came to training, he fully expected Vincent to remember this. If he tried coddling, he’d probably end up with the same reaction. If he could just get in, train, and get out, he’d be a happy camper.

[Vincent Meian]

Once Jesse had finished the repairs, Vincent scanned back over his memories once again to make sure things were right. Unlike when the boy had altered the scene, the fix had been perfectly seamless and actually untraceable - if he hadn't known any better, the trainer would never have thought that the blonde had ever been there. "You are much better at repairs than you think," he offered up softly, trying very diligently not to frighten the boy again. "I have one thing to give you, and we will be finished."

Opening his desk drawer, the tall man took a leather-bound notebook from the compartment and slid it across the desk, stopping its motion a little over halfway. "Between our sessions, I suggest that you keep a dream journal," he explained, leaning back so that Jesse would feel more comfortable taking it. "It is yours, and I will not read it unless you wish me to. I have heard that unusual dreams are part of the side-effects to memory manipulation; perhaps this will allow you to see a pattern when practicing."

Finding nothing else to say, the older man waved his hand to the door. "If you develop a headache, I would suggest visiting the infirmary. Otherwise, you are free to go. Meet with me again next week at this time and we will begin training."

[Jesse Adams]

As Vincent scanned, Jesse sat quietly, tight lipped and unmoving. A familiar feeling had settled over him, and seemed to promise that if he moved out of line he would get much worse than just an aggressive posture and stern words. Even the comment on his skills didn’t help. He just looked at him, wary and tense. If feelings like this were going to be a regular occurrence, he didn’t have to worry about the sessions reminding him of his mentor. The only thing that made him relax slightly was the thought of what Gabriel would have had said or done to anyone that made him feel this way.

The notebook was regarded with a certain amount of suspicion before he snaked his hand out to pull it towards him, taking care not to get too close to his trainer. The reasoning gave him pause. He didn’t like dealing with his dreams as a whole. Now he was expected to recount them upon waking? Depending on the dream, he was often sweating and shaking. This wasn’t something he wanted to do, but how could he say no now? No would only make things worse. Experience dictated that. He swallowed and tucked the book onto his lap. “It’s not...” He inhaled slowly. “It isn’t the memory manipulation that does it. It’s the dream manipulation.” His green eyes closed. If he couldn’t fight the admission verbally, he settled for physically. “The side effects are out of control. Always have been.” It was something he hadn’t really talked with Dr. Neville about, because a part of him was worried that it wasn’t just his power, but a real dream disorder. It wouldn’t have shocked him, but he didn’t want to own up to something like that. There was enough wrong with him already to fill an encyclopedia. Adding a sleeping disorder would just put the bitter icing on the cake.

He hesitated slightly in his dismissal, mostly to ensure he was really free and not misreading things. The suggestion made a slight shiver travel up his spine. The infirmary was a place he avoided at all costs. “I have Advil in the dorms,” he hedged, not disobeying him, but not really giving in either. The free to go bit made him practically jump out of his chair. “Right. Next week.” With that he decided it was best to leave, before anything else made him act like a beaten dog.

[Vincent Meian]

The tension in Jesse's body language only made the trainer feel wearier. It'd bee quite some time since he'd had a student so emotionally damaged and closed off. The closest was Lei, and he'd opened up far too quickly, developing inappropriate feelings. He'd been more on guard for that with all of his other students, and given the blond's disposition towards him, Vincent wasn't very concerned about that. He was too resistant, too unwilling, and above all too frightened for any such thing to occur. This would simply take time to fix.

The older man watched and listened carefully during Jesse's admission, his golden brown eyes searching the boy's face and posture as he spoke. He didn't want to talk about it; really didn't want to talk about it, it seemed. The teen was forcing himself to get the words out, as if he was afraid of being punished for remaining silent. Nodding in understanding, Vincent replied, "Thank you for being honest. I will be sure to make the proper corrections in my notes." Pausing a moment to gather his thoughts, he added, "If you ever need to speak with someone about your dreams, I understand nightmares well. You have an invitation contact me at any time, should you feel the need."

His home phone and office email were common knowledge at the school - if Jesse needed to contact him, there were ways to do it.

Nodding at the self-medication, Vincent did not argue. It was normal for students with psychic abilities to have their own over-the-counter medication in their rooms for bad days. He also said nothing as Jesse swiftly left the room, merely looked at the door for some time before giving a sigh and sitting upright in his chair again. He needed to correct his notes, make a report of the session for the Headmistress (since it was part of the assignment), and finish in time to catch Sean before the psychiatrist left for the day. Even though he trusted that the boy hadn't delved too far or changed too much, it was best to err on the side of caution.