No Business of Mine (Jesse)

[Vincent Meian]

Despite the fact that the doctor had told him not to go back to work (given the very physical nature of his occupation), Vincent was not one to shirk his duties as an educator. He had come back after exactly one week of rest, and was going to remain on crutches for the rest of the time.

Coincidentally, this was also the exact amount of time it took for the hospital to order him a custom pair of the aluminum supports - standard sets did not account for people his height or taller. (Though he personally had yet to run into anyone at the Institute taller than himself aside from Kane in... well, the entire time he'd been working here. And was the tallest person on staff at Eisai. But that was neither here nor there.)

Fridays were especially important days, however; he could not afford to miss one, no matter who took over his roster for the past week. This was because Fridays were very intensive training days and could not be missed by students. Adaryn Breslin, Clement Evans, Harmony Muller-Barton, Lucy Serrano... all were people who required much more hands-on training than normal, even if he didn't need to get physical with them like he did a few other students. All were scheduled for Friday classes.

As was Jesse Adams.

Jesse was usually scheduled for afternoon classes, but seniors tended to have break periods in the middle of the day for studying or college prep. Since the break was a time in which the nineteen year old was available, it seemed a perfect time for training instead. It was right after the lunch period as well, which meant few excuses for being late.

Tucking his own boxed lunch away, the tall man remained seated at his desk as he settled into rewriting his notes again. Sam Rixon in particular had come a long way under Vincent's careful watch, so much of the notations needed to be rewritten or covered over with new annotations. It was a delicate job when one had hand-written notes, but one that could be put away at any time. At the very least, it was something to do while he was resigned to... 'desk duty'.

[Jesse Adams]

When Jesse had been informed of the training hiatus, he hadn’t worried. In fact, it was a bit of a reprieve in his mind. His training sessions were stressful at the best of times, and had only been more so since the strep throat incident. Whatever trust he’d learned to give his trainer had been effectively null and void after that. It didn’t matter that he’d been right, because that wasn’t the point. The point was that he’d broken whatever shaky trust the teenager had given him, and invaded his personal space bubble.

Needless to say, the break from his trainer had been well received. He didn’t even care why it was happening. He’d spent the free time going out to Jake’s place to see Gambit. While the visit with Jake he could have done without, seeing Gambit again had really perked him up. He didn’t even care that his favorite shirt was now marinating in the laundry basket with dog drool.

But the reprieve was over, and now he had to go back.

He headed down the hall in a less than enthusiastic manner, trying not to be irked by the fact that most of the students his age, and some younger, were currently in free periods to prep for college. He could have been one of them, if he’d stayed rather than run away to Gabriel. But no. He was stuck for at least another semester or two until Dr Neville deemed him ready to rejoin society. That meant he’d have to pass training, too, and as much as he didn’t want to deal with the training classes as a whole, he’d suck it up in order to have a chance of graduating before he was thirty.

He offered only one knock in warning before he entered the office. No pleasantries, no concern for where his trainer had been, nor questions about the crutches leaning close by. He simply settled in the chair he was supposed to be in and pulled on a leather bracelet on his wrist. Avoiding eye contact was something he’d gotten very, very good at.

At least until he looked at the file on the desk. A dark look settled over his face as he processed the name. “You train Rixon?” The name was said less like a person and more like a curse word. He snorted and stretched out in the chair, arms behind his head. “I guess you really DO get all of the problem students, hey? How many times has he burned the crap out of stuff?” He had no love for Rixon, mostly because he was involved with Vincent Verax, and before that, November. While he still felt remorse for what he had done to the girl, Verax and Rixon were still two of his least favorite people.

[Vincent Meian]

The single knock at the door was enough warning for Vincent to lift his head and issue a nod to the student walking rather sullenly in, but no time for anything else. Considering that he was still thinking in both Japanese and English at the same time as well, when Jesse sat and began to avoid his gaze, the trainer shifted his attention briefly back to the file to finish translating his notes, then adhere them in place. It wouldn't take more than a minute - he was almost done.

Granted, it seemed like Jesse was more observant today than usual. The comment processed slowly, but once it had tawny eyes flicked up again while he closed the edited folder and replaced it calmly in his desk. Whatever issues his students had with each other, such a relationship had no bearing on his sessions.

"Whomever I train is not your concern, aside from yourself," he chastised. The tone was idle, but firm; his other students were not up for discussion. "If you have an interest in their lessons, you should speak with them."

Not that he'd give up the names of his other students readily. That was private information, even if it was in every school record outside the directory.

"Have you been maintaining the practice techniques I supplied you with in my absence?" There were few of them, but they were almost like coping techniques for the side-effects Jesse commonly suffered. Keeping a journal of his dreams was one of them; memory exercises were another. Other than asking if he'd been keeping up with those basic tricks, however, the older man chose not to pry into the specifics. If something bothered his students enough, they would talk to him about it. At least, so he believed. He was open enough with such lines of conversation, regardless of the source of concern.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse was observant when it suited him, and when he was trying to avoid actual eye contact with his trainer? It suited him just fine. It had been sheer luck that he’d actually bothered to read the file name, and now he had that information, he was going to run with it. Who knew? Maybe it would distract from his lesson.

The slight admonishment had little effect on the teenager. Now he had hold of this information, he wasn’t letting go so easily. “I’m not talking to Rixon.” At least, not without one of them being on the receiving end of a punch. Mostly like Jesse. “And it was just curiosity. How many times has he set fire to something important?”

Sadly, it didn’t appear that his trainer was taking the distraction seriously. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if Sam knew he was also under Vincent’s instruction. If he was, what had he told the trainer about him? The incident with November? What he’d done (though not intentionally) to Horus? ... He might have just opened up a dangerous door.

“Maybe.” In truth, he’d been using the dream journal more and more recently. He didn’t think it was actually helping in terms of controlling his dreams, but it had become more or less habit now. Some pages were lightly scribbled on when the dream wasn’t too terrifying, or even ‘normal.’ Well. As normal as his dreams ever were, anyway. But the others... there were deep impressions from where he had dragged the pen across the page, the lettering was shaking and in some places, barely legible. Most of those pages also had numerous water stains on them. As for the memory exercises, well... those were going better than the journal. He shrugged and crossed his arms. “If I wasn’t concerned you were going to throw me over your shoulder again, I’d actually let you see the damned journal at some point. But I guess that’s not going to happen now, is it?” Clearly the week away from his trainer coupled with his newly rediscovered distrust for the man wasn’t boding well for the session.

[Vincent Meian]

This was off to a bumpier start than most of their sessions. The hint of expression Vincent gave was one of vague annoyance and firm unamusement. This topic was not up for discussion - had he not made that clear? "If you are not speaking to him, what reason do I have to tell you of his training regimen?" he scolded. "What he has or has not burnt is not your concern. Is it not enough that he will graduate in the summer?"

After all, Sam was going to be twenty-one next year - he had literally run out of time. But the pyrokinetic more than made up for that with the amount of hard work he'd been doing. Incidents of him lighting things on fire on accident were down, his control was finer (if still limited to things near his person), and he was seeing Nakia less and less for burns... if more and more frequently because he simply liked to visit.

But that wasn't the point. Jesse didn't need to know the specifics of their training, regardless of his relationship with the Rixon boy. He needed to focus on his own training first.

At the implication of the physical contact again, the trainer did soften a little. He had apologized for that, both before and after the event. But the blonde had been quite unwell, and contagious as it turned out, so he felt justified as much as he felt sympathetic. Though, he never expected that Jesse would ever show him that journal, regardless of whether or not he used it. But it was good to know (if in the usual, skirting-the-truth way that his student gave personal information) that both the exercises and journal were of use.

"That is for you to decide in your own time," he stated, settling back in his seat. "I have no expectation of ever reading that journal, regardless of how you feel towards me or these sessions."

[Jesse Adams]

The look Vincent had on his face might have amused Jesse if they weren’t talking about Rixon. The only way this could be worse was if they were discussing Verax in conjunction with Rixon. He was about to verbally fight back with more degrading comments directed at the other student when something Vincent said made him pause.

Rixon was graduating.

The blond’s fist curled slightly in his lap. That wasn’t fair. How in the hell did the idiot pothead get on the list to goddamn graduate, when he was going to be stuck for at least another year?

Temper lit, Jesse glared up at his trainer. “How the fuck did that pothead actually pass his goddamn training?” The Sam Rixon he knew couldn’t walk down the hall without tripping on his own two feet and setting something ablaze. Yes, that had been a few years ago, but that didn’t matter. People didn’t change that much, did they?

... Okay, he was trying to change, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that the pothead was graduating, and it wasn’t fair.

As for the journal, he was in no mood to snark about it now. As it always was, the slightly beat up book was in his bag at all times, to keep prying eyes and mitts off of it in the dorms. Not that Vincent was ever seeing it. “I don’t tell you half of what I feel about these sessions,” he hissed. That much was true. He didn’t share when things helped, nor did he share how irritated he felt over them. “I want to know how in the hell Rixon passed your course. Doesn’t he just fuck around like he does in class? Or does he tell you things about other students to get a passing grade?” Things like what he had done to November before he’d officially joined MSAD full time. He scoffed and leaned forward in his seat. “Bet he told you the shit I pulled with his friends. Like things I said to his little friend that made him cut himself. Or that I dream-fucked his little girlfriend.” In his defense, he’d been told to train by Gabriel. He’d never been told how to do it. November had been sleeping in the courtyard, and had been a convenient practice target. No one at Hammel had seemed to like that answer, though, and it had been one of his last actions before running away to Gabriel. He knew he was pushing buttons and limits, but he couldn’t help it. He was angry, and his mouth was running away with him.

[Vincent Meian]

Where had all this sudden anger and resentment come from? Vincent frowned as his student retaliated, belittled the pyrokinetic who wasn't even in the room to defend himself. This was... not unexpected, but also not like Jesse. He was quiet, if snappy, and he tended to keep his opinions to himself regardless of what they were. Where was the hostility coming from?

Though rather than try and defend the boy right away, his face settled into a neutral if cold expression to wait out the storm. At least, for now. Maybe he'd get some information out of Jesse yet.

He was not disappointed.

"Sam Rixon passed his courses as all of my other students have," the trainer retorted, his tone sharp. "By his own merit and skill." He did not take bribery in any form of the word, be it through information or monetary value. That would undermine the very purpose of training; to keep these children safe, both from other and themselves. "He has told me nothing of you, nor of any past crimes you may have committed."

Such as the ones Jesse himself just spoke of.

"However, if there is something you would wish to bring to light, please do so." Vincent's tone was outright frosty now, and his expression was far less than pleased at what he heard. Especially since his grasp of slang was not completely up-to-date, and he may have just misunderstood what the blonde meant by 'dream-fucked'. Regardless, it was obviously a gross abuse of power. "The sort of actions you speak of are precisely why you have been assigned to remain at the Hammel Institute for additional training - you are here because we cannot be convinced that you will not abuse your powers for your own satisfaction."

The training they'd been going through the past months was a stepping-stone to that. If Jesse could use his abilities on a teacher, with no adverse side-effects or signs of malignant intent, he could graduate when his credit requirements were met. So far, he'd been doing well; Sean had not seen any long-term tampering with the non-psychic's memories, and all repairs were becoming nigh flawless. But this revelation, this blatant pride in abusing his power... it didn't evaporate the trust, but it certainly hurt it. It was two years ago, perhaps more - Jesse was not the same person he had been.

Was he?

No - he refused to believe that. Didn't stop him from being angry, though.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse’s temper had been flared for a few reasons, but the thing that was bothering him the most? Samuel-Pothead-Rixon was goddamn graduating before he was, and he didn’t understand why. He hadn’t even seen the kid since he came back, but he knew damn well that there was some unresolved tension between them. All he knew was that that tension was making him... well... snap.

He tried holding his body rigid as Vincent explained just how Sam had passed, fingers curling and uncurling like clockwork. The knowledge that Sam had actually kept his mouth shut, though...

Jesse had been sure it was a sure thing. That was why he’d blurted it out, and... oh. Oh. Well, shit.

“No,” he snapped rather suddenly at the offer. He’d already said more than enough. Those topics were for Dr. Neville’s ears only. Yet as Vincent continued, Jesse felt himself get wound up again. “You think I want to stay here? That stuff wasn’t even my fault!” He twitched irritably in his seat. “Rixon’s girlfriend was just... there. And I’d been told to train. She was easy to do, that’s it.” There was far more to that story than he’d let on, but it didn’t matter. He saw that in Vincent’s face. It seemed that whatever trust existed between them was two way. Well, then fine. Two could break trust. It wasn’t like he could fix the damage anyway, not if he couldn’t get close enough to Vincent.

“I’m done with that shit. I grew the fuck up, okay? I don’t use my powers outside training anymore.” His admission hadn’t been out of pride, but more the confidence that Vincent already knew, thanks to Rixon. Once, he might have been proud of his actions. Now, it just made him feel more and more like he was broken beyond repair.

[Vincent Meian]

"'Not your fault'?" No, there was a very big difference between using one's powers on accident to the harm of another, and what Jesse admitted to doing which was purposeful. "You chose to use your abilities on someone, without permission and without remorse. It does not matter that it was 'easy' - you violated another person's own thoughts without taking into consideration the harm it would cause. Because you could."

If there was anything to show that Vincent was upset, the minor tirade was one of them. Normally a person of few words, when riled it was hard for him to contain them. Jesse was basically lucky he wasn't yelling at him... or that the blonde didn't know Japanese. Because there would be a LOT more he could (and would) say.

"I believe that you do not do such things any longer because I have faith in you. Others do not; these sessions are to prove that to them." That probably wouldn't make the defensive teen feel any better, but it was the truth. His trainer trusted that Jesse wasn't using his powers outside of their session unless monitored by Sean or someone else of proper mental fortitude. But that didn't mean he approved of the past behavior recently brought to light. Or that Jesse seemed completely remorseless.

[Jesse Adams]

Green eyes went wide as Vincent argued back. Surely he'd known what he was getting into when he'd taken Jesse on as a student. His file was probably twice the thickness of any 'normal' student's, and he was sure there was some less than academic entries in it. There was something in that challenge that had made something click in his mind, and it only served to make him more irate. "So why am I the only one getting shit for it? You know how many people pull shit like that all the time and never get caught? What about them? When do they get punished for what they do?" His fingers were permanently curled now in a minor effort to restrain himself. "I was sixteen. It was stupid. I know that."

The worst part about all this was that, in the midst of Vincent's tirade, he'd come to realize something about his beahviour.

He was exactly like his goddamn father. He was no different from the sick son of a bitch, only he used his powers and his mind, not his fists.

It made him want to retch.

"Maybe they shouldn't have faith in me," he growled back. "Who says I can't do it again? He does." He didn't care nor clue in that Vincent wouldn't have any idea who he was talking about. It didn't matter. Because if Vincent was right, he'd be just like him anyway.

[Vincent Meian]

Jesse wasn't the only person in the world who made mistakes. He wasn't the only person who had been mislead, waylaid, or told that something was all right when it wasn't. He wasn't the only person who was punished for doing the wrong thing, even when it was only wrong because they hadn't been told it was wrong. Ignorance of the law does not excuse breaking it, and all that. But the point was he wasn't the only one.

"They are punished when they are caught." Not 'if', not in the soldier's mind. When. "When their crimes are made apparent, when their mistakes are no longer that, but instead willful disregard."

There was something to be said for the student's age at the time. But he had still made the choice; regardless of age or mistake, that was what mattered. "If you knew that it was wrong, that it was a mistake, why did you do it anyway? Did you think yourself above the consequences? Or perhaps that the harm you inflicted did not matter because the person you hurt did not matter to you? That girl was someone's daughter, sister, and friend - what gave you or anyone else the right?"

As a father and a husband, that was a legitimate question coming from him.

"I say that you will not do this again," he argued. "You make it difficult to prove, but I believe that you are not who you were. You would not be here if you believed yourself able to willing hurt people." How mad he was had no bearing on that; Vincent would always give his students the benefit of the doubt. "What anyone else believes does not matter in the fact of what you believe. Your conviction matters most of all."

[Jesse Adams]

No, Jesse wasn’t the only one, but at the moment it felt that way. He could think of numerous people that had gotten off scot free for crimes they committed. From members of MSAD that had scattered to... well, to his father. Not to mention the hundreds of people his father had willingly defended and gotten off for crimes they most definitely committed. It made him shudder.

“When. What if they’re never caught?” Like he’d suspected Gabriel would never have been, had he not been killed instead. “What happens then, Mr Meian?” Because the person he was thinking of now was probably never going to be caught.

This was quickly going off the rails in terms of staying on topic. How this had gone from bitching about Sam Rixon to... this... Jesse couldn’t say. But it had, and there was no stopping this train now.

“Because. I was pissed off with my mentor and it just happened, okay? I didn’t think about it, I just did it.” Which honestly scared him more now than it had then. “I didn’t think she’d know. People have fucked up dreams all the time on their own.” That, he wasn’t excluded from, that was for certain. Still, the more Vincent said, the more he felt like he was a snake coiling up to strike when the opportunity struck. “It doesn’t matter! It never matters!” He felt the cold tingle run down his back again. It was one he was long familiar with whenever his mind tripped over thoughts of his father. “No one has the right, but it doesn’t matter because people cross that line all the time.” It wasn’t even just him, either. From what he’d learned from Clement, they were really no different.

As the son of someone who had crossed those lines many times, he felt like he was in the right.

“What if I think I’ll go back to that life the second I leave here? I don’t want to, but what if it’s gen - ... inevitable?” He’d nearly slipped there.

[Vincent Meian]

There were lots of people who were never caught. Who could never be caught, even if psychic ability were allowed into the court systems as evidence. It wasn't about can in any case; people didn't obey the law because breaking it would cause them harm. They did it because laws were there for a reason. Those who didn't understand those reasons broke laws, and when (if) they were caught, they were punished.

As if was, he didn't have an answer for that. For that eventuality, for that clause, for that unfortunate reality. Just because he was optimistic and had a strong moral compass didn't mean he blindly hoped for that case.

Anger was almost always fear in disguise. Vincent was very familiar with that, having spent most of his youth converting all his fears and insecurities into varying forms of rage. Therefore, hearing his student's argument and (more than that) seeing the flicker of unsure self-condemnation, brought his attention to bear once again. This was different - he was angry that Sam was graduating, yes, but out of the fear that he never would. He was angry about being confronted about this past crime because he was afraid that it meant that he could never change.

Quite the revelation. And while Vincent was upset still, he understood a bit more now. Not all, but more.

"What 'people' do and what you do are very different." His tone had grown softer, but was no less low even as his accent receded back a bit and the trainer calmed. "What matters is you, Jesse Adams - no one else. What you do with your powers, with your life; that is what matters to me, to everyone who is watching you while you remain here.

"Nothing is inevitable. No fate is carved in stone, regardless of the tales and stories of time past. There is always a way out or a chance to change."

Vincent would give him that chance. Had given him that chance, along with the rest of the Hammel Institute. He would still hold the young man accountable for his actions, past or present, but he would also help him in any way he could. It was what he was there for, after all.

[Jesse Adams]

The particular person Jesse was thinking of would never be caught for multiple reasons. Mostly because in order to convict someone, not only did you need witnesses but proof. All the so called ‘proof’ had either been swept under the rug or passed off as roughhousing as brothers will do. He was also well respected, and no one would believe it. And finally, when all that failed, he was around criminals all the time. He’d seen what they did and why they were caught. He’d learned to abuse that.

Unfortunately for Jesse, Vincent was right. He was scared, and because he wasn’t usually allowed to show any kind of fear unless he didn’t have a choice, he buried it under anger.

He wanted to curl up in the chair, something that seemed to be more and more common for his recently when confronted with things he didn’t like. “It doesn’t,” he countered, starting to sound less angry and more... resigned. “It never has.” If only he’d been this kind of open with Sean. Then again, he hadn’t had to be. With him he’d just spilled his memories to the telepath and let him see what he couldn’t make into words. This was different. As much as he wanted to keep fighting with Vincent, he also wanted to get out of the office. He didn’t foresee any training actually happening during the session.

His trainer had a lot of pretty words that, to his mind, equated to utter bullshit. Then again, if his own father followed what he was saying, maybe he’d be a very different person. “What if it is written in stone? What if you can’t get away from it?” It was one of the things he was most afraid of, and by the sounds of what Vincent was saying, he was already trapped in that mindset. He shook his head. “You don’t know anything about me, and you don’t want to.” Vaguely, he gestured to the desk. “Fucking forget Rixon. What are we supposed to be doing?”

[Vincent Meian]

Whatever Jesse thought of his words, to Vincent they were honest and earnest. He never lied; rarely said things he didn't mean, even in jest. He could speak until his last breath left him, and he still wouldn't lie to anyone. Especially not a child; especially not a student.

And it did matter to him, whether the psychic could see it or not.

"I know what you have told me," the older male stated firmly. "I know what I see, and what I hear. From this, I know that you are angry, and you are afraid. I also know that I can help you, if you would only listen to me. Nothing is fated."

On instinct, because he was a father and a gentle person despite his own violent past, Vincent reached forward to comfort the teen across the desk. It wasn't the smartest idea, but it was one that came naturally. To seek out a touch to convey what words could not, to reassure with gentleness. Jesse did not like being touched, but that idea was distant from his thoughts; he just wanted to comfort the boy - show that he did care.

Granted, given that moment, that may have been an error on his part.