On a String [closed]

[Chase Campbell]

Chase was no telepath, but he got the message James was sending loud and clear. Had he thought this through a little bit more, he might have seen what a terrible idea this had been. It was simply a reflex now. He wanted to help James calm down, enough so that he’d stop fixating and be able to go and get his hands dealt with.

It wasn’t happening. He winced and let go, both mentally and physically when James jerked back. His gaze dropped to the ground, his hands twisting awkwardly together in front of him. “Jamie... Jamie, I’m sorry.” What else could he say? He felt terrible. Thought the sting of rejection was there, he still felt as though he should have known better. All he’d wanted was to help James. Instead, he’d done the complete opposite. Who wouldn’t feel something after that?

The blond just watched quietly as James wrapped up his hands in his jacket. Maybe he wasn’t fixating anymore, but Chase wasn’t sure he liked this any better. Worse, he didn’t know how to help him. He’d seen James in his panic mode before, particularly around the holidays. But it had never been this bad. He’d tried to help, but it was clear that it wasn’t going to work like that this time around. “Yeah. Good idea.” He could just imagine what might go through the kids’ minds. When he heard his name, Chase glanced up to meet James’ gaze again. He sighed. “James. Listen to me. Whatever happened... you know I’d never do that to you, don’t you? Never.” Gently, he laid his hand on his husband’s shoulder. “We... should go see Clarisse. She’ll be able to do something for you. Then we can get Niko, and talk to Sean and Claude.” Their son was safe enough for now in class.

[Dr. James Campbell]

James nodded blankly at his husband. Yes, he knew Chase would never do something like that to him. He'd never take advantage; every time he'd gone into James' mind it had been a loving or protective gesture. And having the other man push back his anxieties was certainly more effective and faster than anti-anxiety medicine. But he still didn't want anyone else in his head right now. And they could deal with this later. First they had to tell someone.

He let the blond man guide him to Clarisse's office, not meeting anyone's eyes along the way. He was trying to remember as many details as he could about what had happened, before he had to explain it to anyone else. He didn't want to have to have Sean dig through his memories for any more information.

Luckily, there wasn't any students already in the office, seeking medical help. James wasn't entirely sure how to ask Clarisse to fix his hands, so he just unwrapped them from the now-ruined suit and held one out, showing her the pieces of glass that were embedded into his skin and the bits of photo that were still stuck. "Clarisse...can you fix this?"

What else was there to say? "I can't fend off mental attacks and haven't even tried for years so some bastard got into my head and did this to me and who knows what else" seemed like a bit too much information at the time. Though he would have to explain the whole thing to Claude, at least, later.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse was tired today, but she couldn’t say she was unhappy. She had been spending a good deal of her time recently digging through files (that she was legally allowed to view) to try and find a trainer to approach. Clarisse didn’t realize how nerve wracking choosing a teacher would be. She wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed that she even needed a trainer, or simply afraid to trust in someone new, but it was certainly a feeling Clarisse didn’t appreciate.

Fortunately there was no one in her office today. One regular had popped in with a migraine, laid down for a few moments, and bounced off on her merry way. Clarisse appreciate the quiet calm, and was taking a break from some studies with a hot cup of tea at her desk. Inhaling he steam with a soft smile, she sighed and smiled down at ChiChi’s terrarium, the spider rearing up on her hind legs and feeling the glass with her abdomen.

That was when the quiet ended. James and Chase were suddenly inside, and Clarisse jumped when she saw the carnage that had once been the head recruiter’s hands. “Sacre Mere…” exclaimed the specialist in a whisper, covering her mouth and nodding. “Yes, yes I can help. Please, have a seat.” She said, guiding both James and Chase to the fainting couch across from her large desk. When she was satisfied that the couple were situated “What on earth hap---“

She was cut off by James’ hurried explanation and she paused in the middle of her steps toward the medicine cabinet. “You were attacked?” Clarisse repeated in a low, strained voice. Terror flickered on her face for a moment. Mental attacks often had more serious consequences than whatever physical ailments the attacker caused. Clarisse found herself more worried about James’ brain function than she was about the gore on his hands. “We’ll be able to find out what else, James.” She said soothingly, with an air of determination. “You are in good hands.” Clarisse assured as she pulled out a pair of tweezers, rubbing alcohol, and a rather large swath of bandages. Looking over her shoulder, her delicate hand hovered over the glove dispenser.

She looked to Chase for a moment. “Are you alright?” She asked inquiring more to his physical state than his mental one. Of course he wasn’t alright. His husband had just been attacked! Snapping on a pair of latex-free gloves over her wrists, she placed all of her necessities in a rolling chair and pushed it so that she was facing James. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt, James.” She warned, dragging over a sterile metal tray on which she arranged her tools. “But they will heal fast, and you will feel much better once I remove all of the glass and…other…shrapnel…and clean your cuts.” Clarisse explained as she sat in the chair, managing to hold on to her soothing bedside manner despite her racing mind. Who was capable of doing this?

[Chase Campbell]

Chase didn’t say anything as they made their way to Clarisse’s office. There wasn’t much to say. They could deal with their own insecurities later. After James got medical attention, after Niko was safe with them, and after they’d talked to Sean and Claude.

He couldn’t say he was surprised by Clarisse’s reaction. He just followed her directions mutely, dropping his hand from James’ shoulder as they sat down. To her question, he swallowed and gave a little nod. “Yeah.” Funny how he didn’t sound so strong anymore. “I don’t know what happened. He called me, and when I came in, his hands were a mess.” From the little James had told him, he still couldn’t piece together all the facts. And he didn’t want to, because it scared him. Someone had gotten into his head. Someone was threatening Niko. Their son.

When she asked if he was alright, he shrugged. “I wasn’t the one that got attacked. I’m fine.” His tone was shorter now. A little bit terse. Whether that was due to his frustration with being unable to help James, the anger that someone had messed with his husband, or the fact that he was about to witness James in pain, it was difficult to tell. He just took a deep breath and wrapped his arm around James’ waist. If he couldn’t comfort him mentally, he’d have to do it physically. It was all he could do. “It’ll be okay, Jamie.”

[Dr. James Campbell]

If other matters hadn't been so pressing, it would have worried James that they didn't speak as they walked. It should have worried him anyway, but there was only so much room in his mind for anxieties, and it was already over-full.

Other than his rushed explanation, he didn't say anything as he sat down. His hands were still shaking, and he was doing his best not to look at the mess on them. Really, a little blood should have been lower on his list of priorities, but looking at his hands made his stomach churn, mostly because he could still see mangled bits of photo stuck in there as well.

Having Chase put his arm around him made him jump slightly at first. James felt a stab of guilt, because this was Chase doing what he could. "M'sorry," he mumbled, leaning against his husband. And honestly, he could use the support right now, even if he didn't want the other man in his head, he wanted him there, and he smiled wanly when Chase said he was alright. Nothing was alright.

James nodded blandly at Clarisse. Yes, he knew it would hurt to get his hands cleaned up, but that didn't matter so much as getting them fixed up so they could go and do something about it. "It's not shrapnel. It's paper. Whoever did this made me break one of my pictures."

Funny, only a few days ago he'd been thinking about getting a matching frame to put in a picture of him, Chase, and Niko.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

James was right. Nothing was alright. It tugged heavily at Clarisse’s heartstrings to hear the crippling lack of confidence in James’ voice, as well as the tense shortness that Chase was offering. Clarisse had never taken it upon herself to feel hurt by the tone of someone’s voice when they came to her office. Usually the students that came through were in pain, or were scared, and they usually said things in ways that could be taken harshly. Clarisse just let them slide and kept her soothing manner as best as she could when she was fretting so harshly.

She did however, make sure that she kept detailed memories at hand of everything Chase and James were saying. They could be important later. Chase had not been attacked, and so far neither had anyone else. It was just James. In fact, the attacker had actually forced James to destroy something he loved. There was something personal about this. That was important.

But Clarisse’s job was more important. She gently cradled James’ left hand in her own, grabbing her tweezers with her right. Bowing over James’ hands, she began the painstaking process of picking out the shards from each and every laceration. It no longer turned Clarisse’s stomach to see blood or cuts, but it did make her stomach flutter with nausea to know James had technically done this to himself. “Forgive me if it is not my place.” Her eyes flickered to Chase, and then up to James in an earnest apology. “But may I ask which picture?”

She felt like a pry, or a gossip, so she continued to explain herself. The steady stream of glass that she pulled from James’ hands was deposited onto the steel tray, clinking gently each time. “I’m asking because I am worried about the…other effects of this attack.” Clarisse explained. Looking to Chase again, Clarisse cleared her throat, trying not to be too clinical. “As I’m sure you know, Chase…there are some…dangers. When it comes to mind based powers.” She paused for a moment and looked to James with a quizzical face. “Memory loss? Headache? Loss of perception?” She inquired. Clarisse hated that she sounded so much like a doctor, but it was a nice mask to hide behind.

[Chase Campbell]

When James jumped, Chase bit down on his lip, reminding himself that it wasn’t him his husband was reacting negatively to. He didn’t pull away, or touch him harder. He just let James adjust, and was more than a little relieved when he leaned closer. “I know. It’s okay.” He was trying to be soothing, but it was hard. It felt like a cheap lie, one that he felt compelled to keep repeating. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, because things weren’t okay. But he couldn’t stop himself from uttering the little lie. Things were not okay, and he was going to find out who did this.

They were going to regret it.

Chase was all right with blood, but when it was James and blood, he wasn’t as strong. His grip tightened slightly on James’ waist, trying to reassure him, all the while trying to keep his gaze from focusing on the bloody shards. He didn’t need to look to know that there were a lot of them. Too many for him to want to think about.

Most of Clarisse’s questions were for James, so Chase was content to sit quietly. He honestly didn’t know the answers to most of them. Except which picture had been torn, but that was simply because he’d recognized the twisted frame. Maybe it was better to let James answer them, simply to give him something to focus on other than what Clarisse was doing.

As she pulled out the glass, and James answered, Chase was thinking. He wanted to find out who did this. He wanted to track them down and make them sorry. Revenge was never the best option, but when the offender messed with someone he loved? It was looking better and better.

[Dr. James Campbell]

The older man said a silent thanks to his husband, for not moving away. He needed him right now. James needed the arm around him and the lies about how things were okay. If Chase said them, he could almost believe it. Or, he wished he could believe it.

James didn't want the questions. In fact, he blanched when she asked about the photo. It had been displayed so prominently on his desk, he'd be surprised if there was a single person in the school who hadn't seen it at one point or another. Finally, he responded with a quiet, "The one of us with Ginny, at our wedding."

Clarisse was right to be worried about other effects of the attack besides the glass and the blood. He had a definite need for control in his life, and having lost that, even for such a relatively short time had him panicking, to the point where he jumped at Chase's touch, at probably would have shied away from anyone else, with the exception of Clarisse and her tweezers, and that was only because he needed to get his hands clean.

Of course, the other questions were just as bad, or worse. And he had the feeling he would be repeating the answers often. "I don't remember most of what he did. I think... I think he had my perception, when he was in my head. There was a moment in the hallway when he saw too much and it threw him off. I could see then, but only for a bit. And then it was like he pushed me into a box. I kind of felt and heard things, but I didn't really. And then he let go and I'd done this."

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse froze in her movements, her heart suddenly aching intensly. When James’ jumped, Clarisse looked up, looking James in the eye as she paused. He had reason to be jumpy. Without a word she reached out slowly and took his hand again. James was right, though. Anyone who had ever been in the office had seen that photo, and the frame was rather solid. No wonder his hands looked so terrible. Pausing between extractions, Clarisse searched his face. She felt immense guilt for having to ask him so many things, but it was part of her duty. Clarisse opened her mouth to say she was sorry, but closed it again and simply went back to work. James didn’t need pity.

Like Chase, Clarisse was filled with an intense desire for revenge. She had been at Hammel long enough to know who was important to the school and James was important. A personal attack on the recruiter was like waving around a sign that said “Eff Hammel Institute” and for that, Clarisse would not stand. She needed to take a few deep breaths to keep her gloved hand from tightening painfully around James. She was angry. Very angry.

Having no family of her own, and watching as the married men in front of her turned to each other for solace, Clarisse couldn’t help but be enraged at the personal attack. And there was something distinctly personal about making a man mutilate his own photographs. As Clarisse brooded, nodding encouragingly at James’ explanations, her work became easier. The glass seemed to simply extract itself, her gentle pulling like clockwork.

Clarisse paused for a moment and laid the tweezers on the tray, far from the small pile of blood shards. She picked up a damp cloth and gently wiped away some of the new blood from the cuts, as well as the drying blood from the moment the incident had happened. “Its good that you remember that much, James. It will help to pinpoint the attacker.” Clarisse narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “And if I am not mistaken, I recognize some of the symptoms you are describing.” She stored those away for later. There was no way she wanted to bring up the powers that could have controlled James at this point. Very few people in the world had the level of control over their power necessary to make such calculated movements, and Clarisse could not even begin to make a list. It wasn’t her place to do so anyway.

“You didn’t do anything, James.” She assured him, looking to Chase to take up this torch and run with it. The blonde was probably better suited to keeping James from feeling guilty. “You were attacked, through no fault of your own.” Clarisse assured, her accented voice low and smooth…as assuring as she could be at this moment. She picked up her tweezers again and continued to remove the remaining glass.

[Chase Campbell]

It was just so easy to calm someone mentally. Chase was quickly becoming aware of how much he actually relied on his power to help in situations like this. He couldn’t say he hadn’t used it in class before, if one of his students got injured during training. It was easier to just get in their heads and keep them calm until he could deliver them to Clarisse, or one of the other medical staff. He was feeling a little useless, but he had to do something, and that drive kept his arm firmly in place around James, and kept the lies flowing.

The blond was still angry with whoever had done this. If James had been a telepath, there was a good chance Chase would have found himself in trouble with his husband for the thoughts that were going through his mind now. Yes, he wanted revenge against his nameless, faceless enemy. Because he was an enemy. He was an enemy to Hammel, and he had made himself a personal adversary in Chase. Whoever he was, Chase was going to find him, and he was going to go down. Hard.

But back to trying to soothe James. “It’s going to be okay, Jamie.” He felt like a broken record, and he wasn’t sure how much he could keep it up without James snapping at him. It seemed so strange to think that it wasn’t so long ago he was angry with James, over the Adam fiasco. Mental note – never, ever fight like that again. That fight was completely gone from his mind now. Right now, James needed him, and he wasn’t going to leave his side. Not unless he was physically dragged away, or if James told him to buzz off, and meant it.

When Clarisse mentioned pinpointing the attacker, Chase sighed and looked her way. “As soon as you’ve got James patched up, we’re going to see Claude and Sean. Hopefully they have some idea of who did this.” He was at a loss right now. No idea who could have done this. His own ability could be powerful, yes. But he knew he couldn’t have taken away James’ ability to see and hear his world properly. His power was much more subtle. Free will wasn’t gone. Whether that was due to his control, or simply how his power worked, he wasn’t sure. But he was sure that he would never, ever do something like this.

... Except perhaps to James’ attacker.

[Dr. James Campbell]

Usually, on a different day, James would be the one noticing that his voice didn't have its typical cocky, slightly arrogant quality that was so commonly associated with him. And Chase wasn't his usual, kind self. Later, when he would get a moment to himself to think, he would be distraught by how much the attack had taken from them, even in those first few minutes afterward.

Even before they figured out what had happened, they were suffering.

The fact that the intrusion into his mind had ended with the destruction of something so completely personal to him physically hurt him to think about. (Or maybe it was the stinging pain from Clarisse removing the individual shards of glass from his palms and fingers.) "I'm...I'm not going to need to get stitches, am I?" In addition to a few other things, James had an intense fear of hospitals, and had managed to avoid them since Ginny had come home as an infant. Instantly his face went from pale to bright red as he realized how childish that had to have sounded.

And it was a little relieving to hear that she recognized some of the issues. Maybe then they could identify who had done this and stop the bastard before he hurt anyone else. Before he hurt Niko.

Niko.

Again, panic rose in his chest as he turned suddenly to his husband. "You have to get Niko. You can protect him. If this bastard goes after him you can make sure he doesn't get hurt. Please Chase." It was killing him that he had to sit here, doing nothing useful as Clarisse saw to his hands. He needed to be sure something was being done.

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Claude and Sean would know what to do. In Clarisse’s experience, they always knew what to do. She could only pray that this wouldn’t cause a panic in the school. There were enough students whose powers hinged on their emotions that a plague of fear could cause some serious problems. Problems that could eventually lead to more problems. Clarisse wondered absently if whoever had done this had realized the domino effect it could possibly cause. Probably. Clarisse’s blood continued to boil at the thought of someone heartless enough to stir up trouble so insidiously.

“I think that is the best option, Chase.” Clarisse agreed as she wiped James’ hand again, the glass and remaining bits of photo now totally removed. “They’ve got more experience in the Meta-human community than anyone else readily available.” She murmured, squinting at James’ other hand as she picked out shard after shard of glass. Clarisse had no idea a photo frame could do this much damage.

Clarisse looked up at James’ hesitant question, and managed a gentle, sweet smile. The warmth that was there was genuine compassion, and she could only pray that it would do something, however small, to ease the panic that was setting in to the married couple. “No. And even if you did, I would be able to take care of them. Here, at the Institute.” She assured. It wasn’t uncommon for Meta-humans to have a fear of hospitals. The threat of becoming a science experiment was all too real. Clarisse shuddered to even think of it, having already been subject to government ‘employment.’

Exploitation of meta-humans was exactly the reason their community was so divided. Though Clarisse had never met with them, she knew there were radical points on both sides of the meta-human rights issues. Non-metas who believed that Clarisse and people like her were abominations, and others who were certain that meta-humans were meant to take their place at the top of the food chain. Clarisse would never realize just how far that second group would go to achieve their goal.

Clarisse’s work was nearly finished when Niko was suddenly thrust into the conversation. James’ panic nearly transferred to Clarisse. Niko Curtis was a student. This person was threatening students? She remained silent though, knowing that this was a family matter despite her intense desire to keep all of Hammel’s students safe. Unconsciously the pace of her work quickened, if only to make it so that the pair could go to see their son…together. As it should be.

“I’m almost finished, James.” She announced quietly, her attention rapt on her task.

[Chase Campbell]

The attack had taken a lot more than James’ control from them. Chase saw that already. James didn’t trust him in his head. Not after that. It was frustrating, but understandable. Though he’d never, ever do whatever the attacker had done, he could understand James’ unease with his power now. All Chase wanted was for things to go back to normal. But he got the feeling that it was going to be a lot more difficult to overcome this than dealing with their fight not so long ago.

When Clarisse addressed him, Chase glanced up to meet her eyes. He knew he looked impatient and distressed, but he couldn’t help it. “Yeah. They need to know. Even if they don’t know who could have done it, they need to know what happened.” If Hammel was under attack, they would need to know, and they would hopefully have some idea of what to do, how to stop this. How to help James. (Yes, he was loyal to Hammel, but James came first. He always came first.)

Speaking of which, his attention flicked back to James when he asked about stitches. His hold around his husband tightened slightly, and he tried to reassure him. At least Clarisse said he wouldn’t need to go to the hospital, or even have stitches. At least they had that much going for them. He wasn’t sure how he could comfort James without using his power if they had to go to the hospital.

And then Niko was mentioned. As James shifted, Chase looked at him, unable to keep the worry off of his face. That same argument... he sighed. Hadn’t they just discussed this? “Jamie, no. We can get him when we’re done. We can go together. He’s in class, he’s protected, he’s fine.” If they collected him soon, they’d have to take him with them to see Sean and Claude. And he wasn’t sure how that would go. He didn’t want to scare the kid. “James. Do you really want to talk to Sean and Claude with Niko there? I can get someone to look after him until we’re done. I don’t want to scare him.” James was stressed, yes, but he couldn’t really shoot down that logic, could he?

[Dr. James Campbell]

Okay, so one bit of good news. No stitches. He blushed harder when Chase wrapped his arm tighter around him. That shouldn't be why he needed comforting. (But seriously, the thought of going to the hospital to get his hands stitched up made him feel queasy again. What was he, seven?)

He nodded, trying not to wince as the nurse began plucking out the glass faster. It was good, get it over with, then they can see Niko and tell Claude and maybe eventually get him to see someone but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon so it was better not to think about it but of course he couldn't stop thinking because that was how his mind worked and so how did he not remember all of the other little things that happened when the man had attacked him and....

James really needed to calm down. His heart was slamming in his chest, and all he wanted was to make sure that his children were okay and then go hide somewhere, where the consequences of leaving his mind vulnerable to attacks weren't as significant. The arm around him was just as constrictive as it was supportive, and he just wanted to get up and pace while he thought about what might have happened during the time he did not remember.

And of course, Chase was still right about Niko, and his teachers. "Yes. Right. I'm sorry." That was quite possibly the fastest time James had ever backed down from something he'd set his mind to. Even when the other man was right, and they both knew it, it always took time for him to come around. "I just don't want to be sitting here doing nothing. We have to go." They had to tell someone who could do something.

But they had to wait until his hands were properly taken care of. "And I need to call Ginny."

[Clarisse Prideaux]

Clarisse made a small hum of agreement towards Chase, her eyes focused on the few remaining pieces of her work. She was surprised that Chase wasn’t even more distressed than he appeared to be, though she assumed he was remaining calm for James’ sake. James’ was the one whose distress she worried about. Her thumb was against his wrist, pressing slightly to feel his pulse. It was racing.

“James, I know its difficult, but please take a few deep breaths.” She said softly, setting down her tweezers. “Hands will bleed very easily, and your heart rate is making it difficult for the blood to clot.” She explained, running the clean, warm cloth over his hands again. They were glass and paper free, but the dozens of cuts still leaked blood at a vigorous pace. Having released his hands, Clarisse began to unwind the swath of bandages.

“Almost done.” She assured James as his panic continued over his son. “Once they’re wrapped up you both will be able to leave immediately.” Clarisse added, reaching out and gently taking James’ hands again. She looked to Chase. “Chase…please watch closely. I assume you will be the one to change these bandages when you all are at home.” She instructed, slowly and gently wrapping James’ hand in the sterile cloth. She made sure it wasn’t too tight, so that his hands were still usable, but she wanted to make sure the cuts would be covered properly.

After securing the flexible bandage over one of James’ hands, nearly doubling his hand in size from the padding of the bandage, Clarisse moved to the other. It hurt to hear that James felt he was useless, but what could she say? She hadn’t been there for the attack, and it wasn’t as if she could do anything more to involve James than she already had. She was nearly half what through the second bandage when her eyes cut back to her desk.

“If you wish, you may use my telephone to call Ginny. But I’m positive that she’s fine, James.” She finished wrapping his hands and fastened the bandages so they couldn’t come loose. Holding his hand in hers for a moment longer, she looked his straight in the eye. “Please, let me know anything else I can do to help stop this insane person.” She said, a deadly seriousness apparent in her low voice and steely eyes. Clarisse’s eyes cut over to Chase as she released James. “Anything. And you all may leave whenever you are comfortable.” She added finally, giving James to okay to move his hands again and to take action.