Lost In The Echo (Sean)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean would not treat Jesse as though his past, or his current situation, existed in a vacuum. He needed to be honest with the boy about his future and the circumstances that had led to them being here, together, in his office. “Situations affect us, because we’re human, and our parents, and other people close to us, do shape the decisions we make. However, we still retain culpability for our moral decisions when we have the ability to make them. Changing is difficult; giving up on your progress would be far easier, but that doesn’t make it right, and it certainly doesn’t make your path foretold. You do have the capacity to make a future for yourself, and you don’t have to be like any of your past father figures.”

That Sean had turned into his father figures was neither here nor there. None of that was genetic.

The psychiatrist lifted his hand, making a small gesture to effectively cut off Jesse’s line of thought with his remark. “That isn’t a casual remark, Jesse, and you shouldn’t treat it as one. He killed people. He ended their lives for pleasure and because he could, and there is no ‘but’ to follow that, no excuse for that behavior. The fact that you want to make excuses for it is exactly why we are talking about him.”

Sean Neville was, typically, an affable, easygoing man. However, beneath that laid-back exterior was a profoundly stubborn man with strong ideals and the moral compass of Jiminy Cricket. Gabriel Underwood was his worst regret, since the younger, now-deceased man never should have slipped through his fingers in the first place. Hammel had paid a dear price for their unwillingness to listen to him when the puppeteer had been a student. But, while Sean mourned the loss of human life and he regretted the exact course of events that had led to Gabriel’s death and then the subsequent kidnapping of the Campbells and the battle with the remaining members of M.S.A.D, he knew that, in no uncertain terms, the world was better without Gabriel Underwood in it as an active force.

The psychiatrist fixed his gaze on the boy, as he continued, “We’re talking to him, because all of this comes back to him. More than that, you won’t graduate until you come to terms with the influence that he had on you and everything that he did.”

[Jesse Adams]

Though all of what Sean was saying had been suspected at one point or another for Jesse, hearing it didn’t make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Just the opposite, really. He had blamed so much of his behaviour on his father for so long that he didn’t know what it really felt like to be linked to his own actions himself. He continued to keep his arms folded across his chest as he listened. “I don’t want to be like them.” Not even Max, who, given time, probably would have been the most positive adult influence in his life he’d ever had. Sans Sean, of course. But he’d pushed all that away and done what he always did. He’d run away, and severed all possible ties to the former M.S.A.D. doctor in an effort to keep him from tracking him back down. He’d been scared to see where that path could have led. Still was, really. Trying to change, trying to shed everything he’d become in his teenager years, was a scary thing too. He had no idea what lay ahead, and no idea how to deal with the unknown.

The blond physically winced at the continuation of the one subject he’d fought so hard to avoid. Just when he thought he was ready, the mere mention of his mentor made him mentally curl in on himself and shut off from the world. He knew that Gabriel had done. Hell, he’d been encouraged down that path himself. At the time, it hadn’t seemed so... wrong. Looking back, yes, it was beyond wrong, but he couldn’t reconnect Gabriel to the evil genius everyone at Hammel seemed to see him as. He’d seen Gabriel behind the scenes. He’d seen him lose his temper, yes. But he’d also seen his gentle side. The side that had allowed him to trust him more than anyone else.

He didn’t realize that he was digging back into his palms with his nails again until he felt the sharp sting of a broken surface. “I know he killed people. But you didn’t know him like I did.” Was this what he had meant when he’d proposed the subject of love? Had they somehow come full circle from future to this? If that was the case, he wanted to be done.

“What am I supposed to do?” Oddly, his voice was less challenging. Softer, even slightly muffled against his knees. “I can’t get him out of my head, ever. He was everything.” Had he loved him? Perhaps, in a way he was positive that no one would understand. He was sure that Gabriel would be named all kinds of other things beyond terrorist if that were true. He just... didn’t know. “He was everything, and he’s gone. Except in my head.” It was those memories that tended to almost haunt him, particularly in his dreams. Perhaps it was limiting him, but the thought of asking for those memories to be wiped killed him inside. He didn’t think he could live without them, but at the same time, living with them was almost too much sometimes.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Jesse’s protests were the prototypical exclamations of a teenager. However, this situation was so far removed from first crushes and a desire to borrow the family car that it would be laughable, if the backdrop weren’t death, exploitation, kidnapping, and other acts of inhumane cruelty.

“No, I don’t know him like you did. And you don’t know him like I did.” This was not a topic where Sean could be persuaded, because he saw firsthand the havoc and harm that Gabriel wrought on others, for his own pleasure and feelings of supremacy. Such behavior was inexcusable, as he had told to Jesse mere moments before. “Charles Manson was well-loved by the members of his Family, but that doesn’t erase what he did to others, and what he did to those people who loved him.”

That was what he wanted to discuss. Jesse was different from how he had been before meeting the puppeteer. While Jesse had had behavioral problems long before meeting Gabriel, those had worsened, and he had become both more manipulative and less willing to engage in any sort of introspection about the consequences of his actions.

“That’s the question to answer.” The psychiatrist’s voice was softer than it had been a moment ago. This was a breakthrough moment, a moment wherein he and Jesse were both finally tackling the elephant in the room, discussing the weight around Jesse’s shoulders and simultaneously leaving the option of creating a plan that would help him in the future. They had the potential to do this together, and, since the boy had finally relented and Sean had no intention of shying from this, progress could occur.

They simply had to press forward.

“I can’t force a plan of action upon you,” the psychiatrist began, and he wanted Jesse to be aware of that. While he was capable of many acts, he would not force anything on Jesse, and, his opinions about the boy’s time with Gabriel Underwood aside, he couldn’t make this decision for the boy. Only Jesse could decide what he wanted to do in terms of guilt, memories, and baggage. “However, if you wanted to take more extraordinary measures, they might be available. That isn’t a decision to make lightly.”

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse made an odd noise against his knees at Sean’s comeback. Why didn’t anyone else understand? Oh, right. Jake probably would. And Max. They knew him. Jake, especially, had known him in the particular way Jesse had. He still couldn’t put words to it, or perhaps he was scared to label the relationship, but it had existed. And no one outside of M.S.A.D. could truly say they’d known Gabriel Underwood. “You knew him as a psychotic murderer. Am I warm?” He couldn’t help being snide, because it was one of the only ways he could actually handle those particular feelings. He’d only cried openly about the whole thing twice. Once on the day of Gabriel’s death, and the other with Fifi. Now he was just used to bottling up the feelings and hiding them below snark. “Don’t you dare compare him to Charles Manson.” He was sure the threat would fall flat, but he couldn’t help it. He had to defend the dead man.

Even when it felt like both his head and his heart were splitting open as they delved deeper into the subject.

“So answer it.” Because he didn’t know how to. He didn’t know how to deal with a lot when it came to the subject of Gabriel Underwood. Feelings, memories, labels, any of it.

Feeling a cold tingle down his back, Jesse reached up to curl a section of his hair around his finger, over and over again in an effort to distract himself. He didn’t like feeling like this, and anything was a worthy distraction. “I don’t know.” Finally, he was talking. “I can’t take the dreams and the memories anymore. They’re so real. I’ve seen him a hundred times like he was still here, then I wake up and realize. He’s died a hundred times over because I can’t get him out of my mind.” He shuddered, tugging his hair harder as he wound it faster. “But I can’t not have him there because I can’t... I don’t want to lose him.” He didn’t know how to handle it, which was clear in his reactions to even talking about him. His shoulders were rolled up, and he was being careful with his words. There was no way he was going to lose it in front of Sean. Fifi had been bad enough.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean narrowed his eyes at the boy’s interjection and the implicit threat in his tone. “If you want to challenge me about their respective records, you won’t win on the facts or on the emotional aftermath.”

The fact of the matter was that Sean knew many of the sordid details of Gabriel’s actions. He had been tracking the younger man since the puppeteer had graduated from Hammel, and he had been privy to more than one memory while in his, or in another member of M.S.A.D.’s presence. If pressed on the matter, the psychiatrist was quite capable of retreading those details. No amount of affection, either legitimately held or as the result of the brainwashing inherent in creating child soldiers combined with the boy’s yearning for the acceptance and approval that his father never gave him, undid the horrifying and indefensible deeds that Gabriel had committed. Nothing could ever whitewash those.

As they moved from the subject of Jesse’s protective urges towards Gabriel’s reputation to the boy’s current relationship to his past, the psychiatrist made the obvious point. “I can’t answer that for you, Jesse. That comes from within.” Only the boy could determine for himself what he could stand doing, and what he could live with. He was, legally if not actually developmentally, an adult.

It wasn’t Sean’s decision to make on Jesse’s behalf.

As such, he waited for the boy to puzzle it out for himself. The psychiatrist folded his hands in front of him, with his attention focused entirely on Jesse as he weighed his options aloud, walking himself through the process. He watched all of the telltale signs of a person holding back their emotions. “I’ve seen you more vulnerable than this.” It was a soft, simple reminder.

“Dreams can be coped with,” he added, “But memories...those are a different matter entirely.”

[Jesse Adams]

Had Jesse been a dog, his hackles would have been up by this time in the conversation. As he wasn’t, he settled for a sharp glare and a very, very strong hold on his desire to get up and leave, slamming the door behind him. “So he did bad things. Yes. I get it. But that’s not how I knew him.” The Gabriel he had known was... well, yes, prone to violence, but never against the teenager. He’d had a temper, but he’d also been gentle in ways that Jesse hadn’t known possible. Gabriel the war machine and Gabriel the man were two so very different things in his mind, and easily separated. Strange to think they both resided in the same body, but they had. Jesse just chose to cling to the memories of him as he had liked the older man the best. Gentle, if not snarky now and again, and willing to spend time with him, teach him.

And maybe love him. He still wasn’t clear on that one, and he wouldn’t ever be.

“I don’t know the goddamn answer. That’s what you’re supposed to be doing, isn’t it? Trying to make me less of a fuck up?” He knew he was going to get reprimanded for language, but he didn’t care. “Is that even normal? Wanting to wipe out memories you can’t deal with?” He didn’t know, but he wasn’t normal either.

The blond inhaled sharply at the notion Sean had seen him more vulnerable than this. “When?” He didn’t think he’d ever been so close to a mental meltdown in the psychiatrist’s presence. If he had, he didn’t remember it.

He was still on the fence about what he wanted to do. “How do you cope with dreams, with my power? Nightmares are part of the deal, and right now they’re all over him.” He might have a decent hold on his powers, but the side effects were something that Gabriel hadn’t really trained him on. As such, his nightmares were often out of control. Keeping the dream journal that Vincent had suggested hadn’t really helped control them, but did give him an idea of just how frequent they happened, and how often things reoccurred.

It wasn’t a good number.

“How do normal people cope with it? Because it feels like one day I’m okay, and the next I’m stuck remembering and I can’t deal with it. It was almost two years ago.” Now that he’d opened the crack, he might as well try to get some information out of Sean. All while trying not to break down completely, like he had with Fifi. He could tell it was going to be an uphill battle.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean did not ruffle his feathers; instead, the older man spoke deliberately and calmly. “In a discussion about morality, it doesn’t matter how you knew him. I won’t debate the legitimacy of your affection for him, but his actions and beliefs are both indefensible, and that is what I’m trying to drive home.” Jesse would have to face that reality before he could ever hope to graduate and leave Hammel behind.

“Don’t talk profanity to me, and don’t use the word ‘normal’ in this office.” Sean knew that the boy knew better than to speak that way, and he wouldn’t tolerate deliberate subversion of those two rules.

Side effects never full disappeared; at fifty-six years old, Sean felt that he was an authority on that. His migraines and headaches had lessened, he had excellent refined control so that he never over-extended himself, but he still suffered from his side effects. Like an old friend, they stayed with a meta-human for life.

That said, there was better living through chemistry.

“There’s a drug that helps to suppress nightmares,” the psychiatrist replied. The drug hadn’t been designed initially for nightmares; it was a blood pressure medication. However, one of the side effects was so successful that it was now used in psychiatric medicine for patients with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. “There’s been some testing on psychic meta-humans, and you’re legally an adult.”

That wasn’t a guarantee that he would write Jesse a prescription. There was no guarantee that the boy would want to take it. However, it was a potential option.

Sean didn’t answer the question about Jesse’s vulnerability, because he did not want to open another debate about just how the psychiatrist sensed vulnerability. He also ignored the second use of the word normal so that he could focus on the substance of Jesse’s question. “Not everyone is able to cope with traumatic memories, and there isn’t only one answer. Two years isn’t a long time when one hasn’t done the psychiatric prep work for it to count.”

The psychiatrist had had this same conversation with Josh, when his partner had berated himself for being unable to cope with memories of his assault. An assault sanctioned and delivered by M.S.A.D. Sean had made similar points to his partner; in fact, the same option had presented itself, although Josh had politely refused. The psychiatrist hadn’t forced him, either.

[Jesse Adams]

Sean’s reply actually gave Jesse pause. Gabriel’s actions were... wrong, yes. He knew that now. But Sean wasn’t trying to discredit whatever affections had laid between the teenager and Gabriel. That felt... weird. He was so used to gearing up to defend their relationship, whatever it was going to be classified as. To have someone not really question it... he didn’t know what to say. “I...” His hands twisted in his lap before his fingers started to tug on his leather bracelet, the fire leaving him. “I know,” he finally admitted. It had taken time away from MSAD to figure that out, but he had. Sort of.

His temper resurfaced mildly at the admonishment. Sean knew what he meant by normal, he was sure. “You know what I meant,” he grumbled. By normal he’d been referring to... well, everyone that wasn’t him. In his mind, he was still damaged in at least ten different ways. This was where he’d hoped Sean would help, but so far he knew progress was limited. He also knew that was mostly his fault.

The teenager never expected side effects to fully pack their bags and go. He knew they were a fact of life once you were meta. His biggest problem was that they were still very much out of control. Memories still went fuzzy, and a few of his earliest ones seemed well and truly mangled beyond repair. His dreams were the worst, however, and he didn’t know how to get that side effect under control. Sometimes he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He’d once looked up nightmare disorders when Gabriel was out cold and he couldn’t sleep. Some of the things had scared him into thinking that even if he got his side effects under control, perhaps that wouldn’t fix everything. The longer he blamed his side effects, the safer he’d feel.

“Does it actually work? Did they test metas with dream powers too, or just psychics?” Though his tone was somewhat sullen, the topic interested him a little. If he let Sean actually look at his dream journal Vincent made him keep, perhaps it would help sway him into letting him try it. “What else does it do?”

Hey, if it curbed part of the problem, maybe he could cope with this yet.

“I dealt with ‘traumatic memories’ before this.” Apart from his habit of flinching away from physical touches, shying away from adult males in general, and his dreams, he thought he’d done quite well in coping with the things his father had done with him growing up. “This is just... different. Is there a way to even, I don’t know... dull them without removing them?” Maybe baby steps would work. He didn’t know. That was why he was here.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The boy’s admission was progress, and Sean was fine to drop that particular line of conversation with a single nod. As long as Jesse didn’t try to defend Gabriel’s actions or M.S.A.D.’s end goals, the psychiatrist had no reason to harp on the effects of a strong father figure and a semi-peer on an impressionable teenager’s sense of self-worth.

To that same end, he also wasn’t going to argue with Jesse about use of the word “normal.” He did know what the boy had meant. Likewise, Jesse, and anyone else who spent time in Sean’s office, knew that he considered “normal” a judgmental word. He used “typical” for a reason.

Instead, he focused on the issue of potential medication. “They tested an astral projector with some success, but they didn’t have more dream-related metas involved in the study. However, it works on psychics, and the side effects aren’t related to cognitive function, and are negligible at the dosage used for this.” It was initially a blood pressure medication and the dosages approved for the dream side effect were mere fractions of the initial dosages for blood pressure. If it didn’t work for Jesse, then it wouldn’t work, but the side effects were slim to nil. “It’s an option worth exploring. It doesn’t do very much else because the dream suppression is a side effect of its initial function: maintain blood pressure. The dosage is too low to do anything to your blood.”

At the question, the psychiatrist folded his hands in his lap. “When you ask ‘is there a way?’ Do you mean to ask can I?”

[Jesse Adams]

The medication aspect... really didn’t sound terrible. Jesse still wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of medicating himself, but if it set him free from his dreams? He was inclined to at least consider it. If Sean was even willing to give it to him. That would be the tricky part. “How hard is it to get? I mean, is there a way to test it before I actually commit to taking it?” What if it had some ungodly side effect? What if it did the opposite and amplified his dreams? Couldn’t some medications do that? Sedatives made people overactive, and vice versa?

Hell, he hadn’t even taken sleeping pills that Max had offered. Granted, he’d suspected they were likely something other than sleeping pills, but still. This would be a large stretch of trust, and he wasn’t sure how far he could realistically go.

The question he was asked in return made him brace against the couch back, his fingers tense on their positions of twisting the studs in his ears. “Well, I can’t do it myself.” There, he’d admitted it. He’d tried, and he’d failed. There was a look of mixed defeat and defiance in his eyes as he brought his gaze back up to meet Sean’s. Defeat because he had finally admitted he couldn’t deal with them himself, and defiance because he didn’t want a lecture on trying something so admittedly stupid and dangerous.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“Most psychiatric medications are ‘watch and see,’” Sean explained. As with all medications, periodic check-ins were necessary, to make certain that the side-effects were manageable and that the medications were addressing the issues for which they had been prescribed. “The dosages at which these are prescribed are so low that you can’t have a test dose, but you’d take it for a while to see if it works. If it doesn’t, then you’d stop.”

As for how it was prescribed, the psychiatrist said, “It’s easy to get. I’d prescribe it for you, and, given your disciplinary restrictions, I’d have it picked up from the pharmacy for you as well. Doctor Kenjutsushi would have to do some blood work with you before you started, and we’d have to make sure you aren’t taking anything else, legal or otherwise.” That was not an accusation.

The admission was surprising only insofar as Jesse spoke the words aloud. Sean had, of course, been aware of that incident. “Of course you can’t,” the psychiatrist replied. There was no smugness in his tone, but he was blunt. “That isn’t how abilities work, and that’s something that you should read a bit more about.” Having a concrete notion of limitations would be good for Jesse’s development.

In contrast to the boy’s posture, Sean was quite at ease. “But to answer that question, yes, it’s something that I can do.”

[Jesse Adams]

That sounded... rather non-technical. Jesse raised a pierced eyebrow in slight question. "Sounds safe," he said with a little roll of his eyes. Still, it was tempting to try it. Maybe it would work. Maybe it wouldn't, but that was a risk he was getting close to wanting to take. Especially if his journal was anything to go by. "And that's it? Just take it and see?" Well, fine. He shrugged in answer. He wasn't 100% sold on it, but at least he was thinking about it.

At least, he had been. The idea of going to Dr Nik was not one he was particularly open to. His thoughts alone on the subject were probably enough to display his displeasure. "I'm not taking anything. Just nicotine." The fact that he smoked was far from secret on the campus, and he didn't want to hear yet another lecture on it. "But I'm not going near the infirmary. So that's out." Yes, he was so petty that he'd throw the idea of medication out when it involved actual medical doctors.

The blond didn't know that Sean knew all about his questions for his trainer about self-manipulating memories, or about his previous attempt prior to that discussion. Only having that confirmed yet again made him hunch lower in his defensive ball. "Well it should be," he muttered in a flat tone. Yes, he'd have holes all over his memories, but he didn't care.

Still. If he couldn't do it, someone else could. "Just dull, not annihilate?" Once again he was back to avoiding eye contact, mostly because he didn't like admitting to weakness. This felt like one giant weakness. How bad was it that he couldn't deal with his own grief fueled memories?

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“It’s one of the safer medications on the market, due to how it works and what it’s used for.” For this purpose, it was relatively new, but they had conducted all of the necessary trials, and it was mainstream enough in psychiatry that Sean wasn’t reaching when he offered it as a possible solution; this wouldn’t be experimental. As for the boy’s question, he nodded a single time in confirmation. “Yes. Much of psychopharmacology is try, wait, and see.”

Should Jesse decide to avail himself of that option, he knew where to find the psychiatrist.

Because Sean was not a sarcastic individual, he didn’t harp on the folly of Jesse’s proposed system. However, the notion of a memory manipulator, one who could affect others, possibly scrambling his own brain or erasing years of training making him a risk to others was hardly how powers should work. The psychiatrist was willing to let that slide, because of the far heavier conversation that they were having.

Sean was not a braggart. In most situations, he found bragging distasteful, and he had no need to puff up his ego by reminding other people of his skills. Yet, to be charitable, the boy was in a state of disbelief due to his yearning for a solution. Not to be charitable, he was talking down about this topic to a man who had mastered this ability when Jesse’s father had been having nocturnal emissions about his debate society.

While Jesse had broken eye contact, Sean did not turn his head. His voice maintained the same tone that it had throughout the session, as he replied, “I don’t make a show of it, but if something can be done in that realm, I can do it. That included.”

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse wasn’t sure how to retaliate against that. As much as he wanted to be difficult about it, there just wasn’t a way to argue that. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll think about it. But do you have to do bloodwork? What’s the point?” He’d be more inclined to try it if he didn’t have to deal with the infirmary or Dr Nik.

It was also born of stubbornness that he felt his power should work exactly how he wanted, when he wanted it. He’d hoped that if he tried hard enough, he could make his own memories budge. That hadn’t been the case, and had only ended up frustrating the teenager further. There were days he just wanted certain memories gone, and others that almost made him panic at the idea of losing them.

He hadn’t been trying to question Sean’s abilities, but rather clarify them. He hadn’t yet experimented in dulling memories himself. Only changing, changing back, and blacking out altogether. He hadn’t been sure that dulling could be done. Still, he got his answer. He stayed in his hunched position a few moments more, mostly in silence, before he was willing to talk again. “I guess the better question is would you, not can you. Isn’t it?” He chanced looking at the psychiatrist out of the corner of his eye.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Bloodwork was not negotiable, even though Sean understood a general reluctance to submit to the tests. “General side effects are negligible, but it is medication designed for blood pressure. If you have some factor that would make it inadvisable for you to try it, then the bloodwork can screen for it. And ethically, I can’t prescribe something like this without having your screened first.” The psychiatrist took his ethical duties quite seriously, and he refused to circumvent pharmacological requirements, particularly the ones that were grounded in articulable, pragmatic reasons.

Jesse was fortunate in that he had access to the Hammel medical staff and facilities. He didn’t have to go to the hospital or to a clinic in order to have these screening procedures done. That made him better off than large portions of this nation. Nakia might not come across as the warmest person at Hammel, but she was also far from the most standoffish. She also had a great degree of empathy and truly cared about the students.

The psychiatrist then turned his hands upward at the remark. “That would be a better question.” This was a situation in which Sean not only held authority due to his position but he held the power due to his abilities and skill. He was not going to milk this for deference on Jesse’s part, but he did want the boy to truly think through the implications and potential consequences of such a course of action. “With proper parameters, it’s something that could be arranged.”