Lost In The Echo (Sean)

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse had settled into a routine since returning to Hammel. Part of that routine had included the sessions he had agreed to with Dr. Neville. Week after week, he had showed up for his scheduled sessions with no indication that he was going to dig in his heels and quit going. Apart from a few snide comments, he had mostly stayed within the lines of good behaviour.

He’d even cooperated with his trainer, and his suggestion of a dream journal. Though Jesse was still heavily wary of Vincent, he still went to training classes and did as he was told. All in all, it was a very different behaviour pattern than he had displayed prior to his running away.

He had noticed a pattern when he’d actually bothered to fill out his journal. In the midst of warding off cold sweats in the middle of the night, not to mention shaking hands, he had started to work out a pattern. It wasn’t a good one, and it was really starting to affect him.

... Okay, it had been affecting him for nearly three years now, but he was only now starting to admit it.

Gabriel Underwood was the one topic he had always steered clear of with Dr. Neville. Anything and everything else had become fair game. His time with his father before his manifestation, his time with M.S.A.D., the relationships he’d had with certain members. But never Gabriel. The mere allusion to him tended to make the nineteen year old shut down and not want to discuss things any further.

He hadn’t actually shown the journal to anyone yet, not even Vincent. A lot of it was disjointed, and half the time he couldn’t remember the dreams well enough to write them down. But at least once a week, he had a vivid dream about the compound, and with it, Gabriel. Those were the worst, because everything seemed so real. Upon waking, he was often confused and disorientated, expecting to see the walls of his room at the compound, not Hammel.

Those were the nights he’d refuse to go back to sleep, keeping himself alert with coffee if he had it, or energy drinks. He’d sit on the floor and stroke his bunny, Ty, until it was time to get up and go to class. He’d noticed it more recently, and he didn’t know why.

A small part of him wanted Dr. Neville to fix it. He knew damn well he couldn’t do it himself. Vincent had verified it, and he’d tried it once. But a part of him was also terrified. Gabriel had been so important for so long, he didn’t know what it would be like to lose that part of him. Yes, he had done and trained for nasty things, but none of that changed the fact that he had trusted Gabriel in a way he’d never trusted anyone before. Putting his relationship with the older man into words was damn near impossible, but whatever it was, he didn’t know what it would be to walk around without it. He had to do something, though, because his dreams were slowly killing him.

And then there was Clement. Someone he unexpectedly cared about, which annoyed him. He’d come to that conclusion during the camping trip, when his roommate had been absent.

All of this was giving him a migraine, and by the time he reached Dr. Neville’s office he wasn’t even sure he wanted to go through with the session. He’d already had enough sharing and touching during training, and he really just wanted to curl up in his room with Ty, and a metric ton of Excedrin. Of course it wasn’t an option, but he could dream.

After checking his phone to ensure the right time, he gave the slightly ajar door a nudge with his foot before slinking in and dropping his bag to the floor. Though he had sat in the chair opposite the desk several times, today he wanted distance and thus chose the couch. Huddled in the corner, his expression quite clearly communicated that he wanted this over as soon as humanly possible. Just because he’d entertained the idea of Dr. Neville’s help with Gabriel didn’t mean that he was quite ready to accept it.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

As dutifully as Jesse had attended his weekly sessions, Sean had conducted them. Ever since his recommendation that Jesse return with heavy restrictions, the psychiatrist had penciled the teenager into his schedule. He made certain that he was there and ready, and he also made certain that, rain or shine, Jesse attended and was punctual in doing so.

They were making some degree of progress. Jesse had much to work through, and Sean, ever cautious, kept careful tabs on the boy. Jesse was not like other students who caused a bit of trouble; he had joined a terrorist organization, assisted in the kidnapping of a student and a faculty member, and had turned a gun on his own teachers. He wasn’t even that similar to Fifi, who had turned it around on her own and had experienced a massive ideology shift; partially because she had been forced into the situation by her parents in the first place.

Instead, these sessions moved at a glacial pace, but the psychiatrist preferred the ability to keep an eye on Jesse. And to have the ability to intervene if necessary.

Still, they danced around the elephant in the room. Gabriel Underwood was, in many ways, the cause of this situation, although not the sole cause. Gabriel Underwood was someone that Sean did not miss, and while the entire situation involving his death (and the surrounding occurrences) was a tragedy, he believed that Jesse, Hammel, and the seven billion baseline humans of the planet Earth were better off without. Yet, for all of his importance, they had yet to discuss him to Sean’s satisfaction.

When Jesse arrived for his session, the psychiatrist greeted him with a nod. Since the boy had chosen to sit on the sofa at the end of the room instead of in his usual chair, this required a seating shift from Sean. He grabbed his file and his mug of tea, and then moved to take one of the armchairs on the other side of the office.

“How are you today?”

He could tell, of course, but it was best to discuss it outright.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse truly was in no real mood to talk to Dr. Neville. He knew he had to, but he didn’t really want to. Between confusing feelings and his budding migraine, he didn’t really want to do anything.

He wasn’t even putting the energy into his metal shields. His mind, and all of its’ conflicting thoughts, were probably as obvious to Sean as they were to a still-in-training empath or telepath.

He watched warily as Sean crossed the room to sit near him. Of course he wasn’t so lucky as to have the psychiatrist keep his distance. In answer to the question, he simply shrugged and looked at the ceiling. “I’m here. What more do you want?” Of course he knew, but cooperation wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. Again, he found himself wishing he’d had time to stop by his room to retrieve pain relief. Or at the very least, sneak outside for a cigarette. Those curbed his headaches almost as well as the drugs did these days.

Relenting just a little with the knowledge that being uncooperative was not exactly going to help with his file, he heaved a sigh and looked at Dr. Neville. “What are we talking about today? My Dad? M.S.A.D.? Dreams? All of the above?” In other words, he was most open to talking about those for the time being. Not Clement, not Gabriel. Not right off the bat, anyway. He knew he had to talk about Gabe, and the amount he had been thinking about him, even subconsciously, lately, couldn’t be healthy. It was just a difficult thing to admit, and an even harder thing to think about extracting, or even fading. But like it or not, he couldn’t cope with it forever, and he was slowly starting to realize it.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had been to educational conferences before. He was familiar with the Zero Tolerance policies of some schools that prevented the distribution of even mild over-the-counter drugs between teachers and students. Hammel was different, because of the prevalence of pain-related side effects. Additionally, he was a psychiatrist who could prescribe severely more intense medications, and as a psychic himself, he was both familiar with, and sympathetic to, migraines. As such, he didn’t hesitate to reach into his pocket and pull out his small bottle of Excedrin, which he placed on the table between them.

If Jesse wanted to take a pill, he was welcome to do so.

“You are here,” the psychiatrist acknowledged with a nod. That was sufficient to keep the boy from heavier restrictions and a security escort. Of course, he had certain expectations beyond that, since the purpose of these sessions was progress as opposed to pageantry.

Sean did easily overhear Jesse’s thoughts. He heard the opposing viewpoints, he heard the weariness, he heard the stubbornness, and he heard Gabriel’s name again and again. This fit with what he already had planned, although there was no reason to go for the strike when subtlety would do the job just as well.

“Today, I’d like to talk about the future, and I’d like to talk about love. It’s your choice for which we begin with.”

In fact, the two topics were very much intertwined as far as the psychiatrist’s conversational plans were concerned. However, each topic had its own beginning and set of connections. Jesse could make his choice, and they would proceed from there.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse honestly didn’t care about the Zero Tolerance policies in place at most schools. He wouldn’t have expected anything from any of the teachers anyway (he seriously didn’t deserve much kindness, and he damn well knew it). Yet when Sean produced the Excendrin bottle, he just gave it a look. “Get out of my head,” he grumbled irritably before taking the bottle and shaking out two tablets. If his headache was curbed, maybe he’d be in a better mood to deal with the session.

After fidgeting around with his bag for a moment, he located a half finished bottle of Coke that he used to swallow the pills. While he didn’t exactly trust Dr. Neville, he figured that poisoning students, even the ones with upwards of a hundred black marks on their record, was probably frowned upon in some capacity. If he was wrong, well, there was nothing he could do about it now.

One out of two proposed topics made him mentally twich. Love. The hell kind of subject was that for a session? He’d already spilled his damn guts out over his feelings about his father, as well as the fact he was well capable of actual love. Case and point, his female family members. So what in the hell was left to talk about love?

He was pointedly ignoring the obvious.

“Future,” he finally spat out. It seemed safer, somehow.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean didn’t respond to the boy’s grumble, because he wasn’t probing Jesse’s thoughts. The boy wasn’t shielding, and his irritable thoughts and headache were both obvious to even a rudimentary telepath. The psychiatrist considered it his ethical duty, as a man of medicine, to offer relief to someone suffering, if he was aware of it. That his telepathy made him privy to that had no bearing on his drive to help. “You’ll feel better after taking one,” he said, and he left the matter at that.

From there, he watched Jesse, waiting for the boy to make a decision regarding today’s topic. He overheard the dream manipulator’s thoughts on the subject, his inner questions of where Sean intended to go with this. He would learn soon enough.

The psychiatrist acknowledged Jesse’s choice with a singular nod of his head. “The future it is.”

With that established, Sean moved on to the actual content of that topic. There was quite a bit to discuss within the confines of the future, although he had a particularly pointed direction he wished to explore. As such, the older man asked, “What do you plan to do with yourself when you leave Hammel?”

That was an open-ended question, one in whose answer Sean was quite interested. Depending on how Jesse answered, they would have their springboard for the rest of this conversation.

[Jesse Adams]

The teenager barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the comment. Of course he was going to feel better. It was Excedrin. It actually worked on his headaches when things like Advil failed. He’d just have to wait for it to really kick in. Hopefully it would do so before the session was over, because the idea of dealing with probing questions and exhausting answers on top of a headache wasn’t his idea of a good time.

Really, neither topic appealed to Jesse. He hadn’t given much thought to the future, as least in terms of his life. Normal kids at nineteen had things like college and career ideas sorted out. He... was just adrift. Part of that was because he honestly didn’t know. His future was supposed to have included a less-than-legal job with a less-than-legal group. Ever since that had been torn away, he’d had no idea what to do with himself.

The blond pulled his feet up onto the couch, tucking his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. The question was met with a shrug at first.

“I don’t know. Why, am I actually allowed to graduate at some point?” He knew he was being petulant and putting up a wall, but what else was he supposed to do? “I thought my future was going to involve things other than college and a white collar job, so I never thought about it.” It was honest, if blunt. “What are the options for a former teenage terrorist?” As long as it didn’t involve going back to Los Angeles, he was okay with just about any answer.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“Do you plan on graduating eventually?” Sean asked, turning the question back around to Jesse. The psychiatrist could stymie him with his professional assessments, but, at the end of the day, the boy’s future was in his own hands. He had the ability to demonstrate improvement and an ability to behave like a responsible adult who posed no danger to himself or others. He had to actually demonstrate that, but Jesse had the potential to leave and have a real future, as opposed to Vincent Verax.

He folded his hands in his lap and shook his head, dismissing Jesse’s glib remark. “You were at Hammel long before you met Gabriel Underwood, and the organization has been destroyed for several years. You’ll have to do better than that.”

The boy’s past connection with M.S.A.D. would pose problems, if he didn’t demonstrate the same remorse that Fifi had. This was one of the reasons behind his sessions with the psychiatrist. “If you don’t want to go to college, then what is it that you want to do?”

There were options, such as travel or military service, or any number of jobs to, potentially, being a stay-at-home father if he had family ambitions. The psychiatrist didn’t necessarily agree with all of those options, and the job market for those without degrees wasn’t reassuring. However, Jesse would have to name an option for them to discuss in detail.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse rolled his eyes at the question, not sure how he wanted to answer it. “I guess so. If they let me.” They being the powers that be, of course. Also known as Hammel’s administration. A small part of him suspected that he’d be kept longer than normal to monitor his behaviour. This was the school that had let Gabriel Underwood walk out the doors, after al. He doubted they’d want to risk a repeat. He just had no idea what he wanted to do with any future that lay beyond the doors. It was hard to think about it. He was too wrapped up in the past, most days. When he wasn’t, he was at a loss as to what to do with himself.

Sean was given a dirty look at his comment about Gabriel, giving the silent warning that he was poking a subject he wasn’t ready to discuss. Despite wanting to, but on his own terms. He didn’t want to be interrogated on their every moment together. “So? It was a big part of my goddamn life.” Why couldn’t he accept that? It had been the first thing that had really made sense to him, and as such he’d thrown himself into it. It was hard to disentangle yourself from something like that.

Which he did want to. Sort of. Again, it was one of those things. He didn’t want to talk about it unless it was on his own terms.

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what I’d even be good at.” The military could be an option, he supposed. He had a decent skill set for it. And his powers might even help. “Who says I don’t want to go to college anyway?” He had no idea if he even qualified to get in anywhere, beyond some crappy community college. Though, he supposed that could be one way to get back at his father. Go to school somewhere that would make him ashamed of his son. Again. It could be a fantastic game to play. How many ways could he fail his father?

This wasn’t helping. “I don’t know what I want to do, okay?”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Hammel’s philosophy had changed a bit since Gabriel’s tenure as a student. Part of that was the direct result of Gabriel Underwood’s attack on Hammel and his kidnapping of students and faculty. Part of that was the result of the harsher justice system in place, which put the administration in the position of balancing students against public interest in hopes of striking a balance that wouldn’t result in prison sentences with no hope for intervention. Part of that was due to the fact that Sean had substantially more authority at Hammel than he’d had when Gabriel had been a student, back when he’d tried to warn the administration who dismissed him out of hand. He had been proven right, and Hammel would not allow another dangerous situation to arise. “That depends on your performance here; you know that.” They had discussed this before.

He ignored the look from the boy, because he already knew how Jesse felt, and they couldn’t shy away from the topic indefinitely. “It was a big part of your life, but it wasn’t the only part of your life. If you don’t think you can move beyond that, then that’s a problem, and it’s a topic that we need to discuss.”

The psychiatrist disagreed that the military was a good option, although it was technically an option. He was firmly opposed to the Military Industrial Complex, particularly to the exploitation of meta-human abilities to fight in wards or to oppress others. Then again, if Jesse wholly disagreed with that notion, he never would have joined M.S.A.D. in the first place.

“You said you didn’t envision a white collar job. While college doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll become a professional, they do tend to go hand-in-hand. If you want to go to college, then what do you want to study?”

That was a question intended to make Jesse actually envision what he wanted to do with his future. “What do you think about when you think of the future?”

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse was well aware that things had changed around Hammel since Gabriel’s graduation. There was a guarded suspicion that since M.S.A.D. had come to the surface and onto Hammel’s radar, things had slid into place for whatever staff members had had their doubts, and there were now precautions in place to keep such a thing from happening again. He also suspected that he would be on that radar even past his own graduation. If that ever happened. “I know. I’m just saying.” Mostly to be difficult. Maybe he wanted to go back to option number one and talk about love. This future stuff was not helping his headache.

Sean touched a nerve with that sentiment, and Jesse physically twitched after he’d said it. Though he wanted badly to put M.S.A.D. behind him, that meant leaving other things behind. Things he wasn’t certain he was ready to give up. “Yeah, but what are my options to draw on? My shitty dad before I came here? Because that’s all I’ve got.” Apart from the brief time he’d spent with Max after being shot. It had been his own real experience with being ‘normal’, and even that he’d ended up running from. “Well. Except for playing happy family with another operative after I was shot.” If he was pressed for more, he wouldn’t say. As much as he hated Max, he didn’t really want to roll on him and turn him in. If he wanted to play at being normal, good for him. Jesse just wasn’t staying there. “I just don’t have much to go on.” He was, after all, still a teenager. His experiences in the world so far were rather limited.

His question made the teenager press his lips together in thought. Honestly, he’d flipped it out there just to buy time and be difficult. Now he had to mentally scramble for an answer. He knew what he didn’t want. “I don’t want to be like my dad,” he started, hoping that would placate for a moment while he thought. He didn’t want to be like him for many reasons. His job, defending people he knew were probably guilty but didn’t care as long as he got paid. His personality. Everything. It made him want to gag even thinking about it. “I don’t know what I see for the future. It ends at graduation.” After that, it was a mental black hole. Part of the problem was his inability to let go of the past, no matter how much he wanted to shake most of the elements of it away. “Maybe I should be one of those people that take kids away from crap families,” he muttered, mostly under his breath. He was thinking of himself, and oddly, of Clement. Again. Stupid kid, worming his way into his mind again. How many times did he have to say it? He didn’t care. It wasn’t a good idea for him to care.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean shook his head, denying Jesse’s cynical self-assessment of his future. “That isn’t all you’ve got, and you shouldn’t think of your situation that way.” The boy had potential and he had options, if he was willing to put in the self-improvement necessary to take advantage of them. He needed to make amends to others for his past behavior, and he had to be willing to earn forgiveness and trust, but both were possible. Jesse was young, and while he had done horrible things, he was not irredeemable.

“That’s a start.” There were many reasons for Jesse not to want to emulate his father. Jesse’s father was cruel and emotionally abusive, he was also emotionally neglectful, he was ruthlessly ambitious, and he was a poor role model. Sean had not always seen eye-to-eye with his father about religion and politics and certain social matters, but he had never doubted the elder Doctor Neville’s love, as he had been a caring husband to Sean’s mother and a loving father to both Sean and his sister. “Does that mean you want to prioritize family over work? Or that you don’t want to fall into the same behavior traps?” Either would be progress.

That question was half-answered by the boy’s remark about wanting to become a foster parent, and it was half-answered by his admission that he had no personal ambitions beyond graduation. That was a topic worth exploring, and it was one that the psychiatrist could tie back to his other topic proposal, about love. Because, as far as he was concerned, the two were inexorably linked.

“Foster parenting is a noble ambition, but it’s one that requires a great deal of work and openness about one’s life.” Sean and Josh had home visits before taking Bailey in and afterward, as had James and Chase prior to adopting Niko, as did Mike with each foster child he took into his home; it was standard procedure.

“What did you envision for the future when you were in M.S.A.D.?” He asked, training his gaze steadily on the boy’s face, as he awaited an answer.

[Jesse Adams]

Sean was given a slight ‘don’t play me’ look at his response. “What else do I have, then?” He might have been open and honest with Sean via his memories at their first meeting after his return to Hammel, but that didn’t mean the psychiatrist knew everything about him. As far as he could see, all he had to draw on was what he had already listed.

At least Sean agreed that he had a start, however small it was. If he got nothing else out of life, was remembered for nothing else, he wanted it to be that. He wasn’t like his father in any way, shape, or form. So far, he hadn’t been doing very well with that goal. “I don’t want to be like him at all,” he answered with a look of distaste. “If I even had a family, I wouldn’t put my asshole, guilty as shit clients in front of them. Or hit a kid for not making the honor roll, or any other bullshit that jackass pulls.” God help his father if he’d done anything to his sister since he’d been gone. He’d never shown an interest in her beyond the public image of being a doting father to his baby girl, but maybe things had changed. With Keith being a black mark, and Jesse being in Vermont, there was a good chance he either ignored her further, or turned his tactics on her. He desperately hoped it was the former. Sasha never seemed off when he emailed her, but then again, she was older now. She could have learned to hide things, just like he had.

Great, now he was paranoid.

Sean did win his attention back by way of mentioning foster parenting. The teenager pulled his knees tighter to his body and gave him another biting look. ”No. Not foster parenting. The other thing. The people that take them out of bad situations, not house them.” He couldn’t remember what social workers were actually called, but it was what he meant.

The next question was met with another shrug. He’d long since been honest with Sean about MSAD’s activities, so long as it didn’t skirt the subject of its’ leader. “I don’t know. Guns and glory?” He was being sarcastic, because he honestly hadn’t known Gabriel’s end game. “Take orders, wipe memories. Things I was being trained to do as an operative.” And do it all as Gabriel’s protégé, but he wasn’t going there.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“You have potential,” Sean replied, gazing at the boy as he spoke. This wasn’t an easy situation, and it was one where Jesse would have to work harder than most other people in order to earn trust. That was something with which he would have to live until he managed to prove himself safe and non-malicious. However, if he was willing to actually put forth that effort, and if he was truly interested in doing so, then his potential existed. He was intelligent, and he certainly felt strongly about various issues. Advocacy was a potential career path. “But if you don’t view your future in those terms, then it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

There were a number of roadblocks in life, because the universe was not a meritocracy and there was so much undeserved suffering. He didn’t subscribe to the belief that positive thinking could overcome the greatest inequality; in fact, he believed that was used to prevent social justice progress. However, he was quite familiar with the damage that negative thinking could bring about.

The psychiatrist nodded accordingly, because he agreed with those priorities and with the assessment that Jesse gave. Family, as far as Sean was concerned, was far more important than business. As for the other end of things... “And you shouldn’t hit a kid for anything.” He did not believe in any form of corporal punishment. Not spanking and certainly not physical abuse. “But those are easy traps not to fall into, since that is a deliberate choice an adult makes, to take out their frustrations on innocent people who love them and depend upon them.”

No matter the later choices that Jesse had made, he had done nothing to warrant the emotional and physical abuse that he had suffered from his father.

The other thing could only refer to the government agency charged with the task of protecting children. “The Department of Children and Families?” Sean asked, although he already had confirmation from the boy’s thoughts. “That’s a long-term goal.”

However, the conversation shifted quickly back to Jesse’s experiences with M.S.A.D. and his expectations as a terrorist. “Harming people,” the psychiatrist summarized, since he would not dance around that topic. His gaze remained steady as he asked, “And in a future where baseline people are dead or enslaved, how did you envision living in that world? Or did you never think that Gabriel would actually achieve that?”

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse snorted at the word, giving Sean a bored look. “Yeah, you said that before. So did he. That’s nothing new.” Of course, they were meant in entirely different ways, but his point was that he’d heard it before. “Last time you said that, but nothing’s changed.” It wasn’t that he wasn’t trying to earn trust from his teachers, at the very least, if not his peers. “I just don’t get what kind of future someone like me has. I’ve screwed up a lot of stuff. Hell, I’m screwed up.” He wouldn’t deny that. Many things had contributed to that fact, and he knew some of it was by his own hands.

“No, you shouldn’t. But people do.” His tone had turned somewhat bitter. The idea of hurting a kid for no good reason still made his stomach twist. If he ever got to that point, and that was a big if, he’d never lay a hand on them if he could help it. And he was going to help it. “Shitty adults make shitty decisions. ... And I guess their kids are no better.” His voice had turned from bitter to almost defeated. He didn’t like the fact that some of his decisions in life so far had been due to things he’d learned from his father, or had done in an attention seeking way. “Sometimes I don’t think it’s even worth it, being back here. If I’m destined to be anything like him, I might as well give up now.” Preferably before he hurt or destroyed anything else. Genetics were a strong pull, yes, and as much as he wanted to overcome them, he was always worried there was the chance that no matter what, he’d never escape what he would ultimately become. Maybe he was better off being alone forever. Then at least he couldn’t hurt anyone. There would be no one to hurt.

The question was met with a shrug as Jesse picked at a thread on his jeans. “I guess. I don’t know what it’s called. If that’s the one that takes kids away from shit parents, then yeah. That.” It might be the only thing left he’d be good at. Making sure kids didn’t suffer at their parents’ hands any more than they already had.

However, when the conversation was steered back towards Gabriel, he gave him a sharp look from under his bangs. “He never told me that,” he pointed out. “He caused political battles, and yeah he killed people, but... Jesus.” He shook his head and pressed his face against his knees. “We’re not talking about him.” This was his usual reaction to the subject of his mentor, and whatever else Gabriel had been to him. He would bury his head in the sand and refused to budge.