ArchivedLogs:Keep It Together
| Keep It Together | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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12 October 2013 Some...unexpectedly serious talks during the XS Family Weekend. |
| Location
<XS> Playground | |
Set on the still-expansive grounds around the side of the school, this area is to the outdoors rather what the rec room is to the indoors. There's a large basketball court out here; a fenced-off tennis court adjacent. Further distant there are setups for other sports -- a large track, a soccer field. Closer in to the school, though, in its own large enclosure adjacent to the basketball and tennis courts, is the playground, a huge expanse of equipment set up on alternating plots of slightly squishy flooring and mulch. Centrally there is a large sprinkler-fountain, not always /on/ but it can be turned on with a push of a button; spreading out around this is the actual playground equipment, sturdy and varied. A huge dome constructed in honeycombed interlocked poles and rope netting rises hiiiigh for climbing; a large swingset holds four pairs of swings. A large roundabout in bright colours stands in one corner near a long see-saw. The huge bridge-and-tunnel castle structure at one end has many routes of entry, from poles to climb up (or slide down) to a small climbing /wall/. Monkeybars. Four different slides of varying lengths and spiraling. For the adventurous, between things to climb on and jump between and bounce across it is probably possible to skirt one end of the playground and back without touching the ground, though it might take a particularly adept feat of balance and agility. Or possibly wings. The school is far more crowded this weekend than it normally is, the visitors' wing packed with parents and siblings, even some unused student dorms commandeered for this purpose. With all these people and a schedule packed full of tours and meetings with teachers and presentations or performances by students and meals it can be hard to find quiet time /alone/. There is currently movie time going in the rec room, though, stealing the attention of many of the mansion's younger denizens; many of the /older/ ones have already headed to bed by this hour. With this brief respite in crowding, finding quiet time alone seems to be just what Lucien is doing. He's claimed a swing for himself, though he's not /swinging/, brown dress boots planted firmly in the mulch. He's otherwise dressed in dark grey corduroys, a slim-fit cardigan half-buttoned closed over a pale grey dress shirt. He has his phone in one hand, though he's currently ignoring it; his other holds a slim black cigarette, the sweet-spice scent of clove distinctively lacing the tobacco smoke curling up from it. It's a /fancy/ playground! And it was one of the places at the school that Micah had not seen before today, very excitedly informing Jax that they /had to/ come back later and play. So it is that he is leading the illusionist out by the hand, his step bouncy, into the evening-darkened playground. He is dressed /slightly/ nicer than usual, in a jade button-down shirt and his least patchy pair of jeans. It might could be that he's /leaning/ a little harder on Jax once they reach the squishy-ground and mulch of the playground itself. “Oh, hi, Lucien!” he calls in greeting when he recognises the other man on the swing, distracted from whatever playground equipment he had been aiming for. “Y'need a push?” The offer comes with a bright, lopsided grin. With an apparent /horde/ of temporarily 'adopted' children for the weekend in addition to their own, Jax and Micah's time has been rather packed. With Spencer in bed for the night and the twins decompressing with friends, though, Jax is more than happy for the playground-trip breathing-room. He's dressed as he has been all day, knee-high black boots with a plethora of buckles, bright red skinny jeans; whatever shirt he's been wearing all day is currently hidden under a black sweatshirt that has been liberally sewn over with a number of leftist-themed patches, his thumbs pushed through holes worn in the sleeves. "-- s'kinda fun but I'll still be glad when the weekend is over, I think the most tirin' part is talkin' to the parents who still don't know about their kids. I guess people are just as wilfully blind about queer kids or whatnot, too, but." /Those/ parents get their own special track of programming for Family Weekend. Jax's step grows an added bounce as they near. "Oh, hey, honey-honey. Micah's been dyin' to come back an' explore /playtime/ we ain't gonna be bothering you, are we?" Lucien exhales a slow stream of smoke as footsteps and voices approach; his eyes slide closed, his head tipping to rest against the heavy chain holding up his swing. "Thank you," he answers Micah quietly, "but that will not be necessary." His eyes shift to Jackson, head giving a very slight shake. "This playground is here to be enjoyed, non?" His cigarette returns to his lips for another slow pull. "I am hardly surprised. Parents can be quite blind when it comes to things about their children they would rather not see." “Yeah, the denial is...kinda rough t'watch in progress,” Micah agrees, smile faltering briefly as he presses his teeth to his lip. But it's hard to avoid smiling for too long in a playground with loved ones! He is soon climbing onto the swing next to Lucien's, rolling up his pant leg to lock his left knee in extension, such that his foot won't drag on the ground, since /swinging/ isn't exactly a setting programmed into most prosthetic knees. “You been doin' okay with all this?” "Think it was made kinda easier for me, there wasn't no /way/ my parents couldn't of knowed. What I do is kinda obvious. Actually, my mom knew before /I/ did, I started showin' in my sleep before I did it when I was awake." Jackson cringes slightly at this memory, but he's still got a smile on his face. /He/ takes up a spot behind Micah, since Lucien has refused offer of pushing, reaching out to give Micah a firm starting push. "Playground /is/ here t'be enjoyed, honey-honey. That weren't an answer, y'know. If /your/ enjoyment included the quiet --" He shrugs a shoulder, and quiets; he has to turn his head to look at Lucien after Micah's question, the other man's swing positioned on his blind side. "No, it wasn't an answer, was it." Lucien tips his head back, blowing smoke up towards the night sky. He looks back down to watch Micah adjust his knee, unabashedly curious through this process. "Okay?" He echoes this question with distinct puzzlement. "With what?" His finger taps lightly at his cigarette, eyes lifting to Jackson. "It is hard not to enjoy a night so pleasant. Are /you/ enjoying your weekend? From what I have seen, you have hardly had a moment to breathe." “Your folks is good people, too.” Micah bonks his head back into Jax's chest when the other man moves to start pushing the swing. “All this...parent-y stuff. It's overwhelmin' t'some.” He smiles at the question, swinging but slowly partly out of attempt to facilitate conversation and partly because it is easier, using only his right leg for propulsion. “It's been...crazy. But in a good way. I mean...kinda sad watchin' the kids be kinda sad about their family situations. But fun t'help 'em participate where we could.” "My folks is awesome people. It was crazy-stressful for them, though." Jackson shakes his head, staying behind Micah's swing to give a few assistive pushes before he moves away, crossing over to take up one of the two swings on Lucien's /other/ side so that he can see both men at once. "S'been a bit tirin'," he acknowledges, "but it's nice to be there for 'em. Lotsa these kids have done been let down /pretty/ hard by their family. I think havin' folks there for 'em is -- a lotta good. How's Desi been settlin' in?" "Were they just alright with it? Your parents?" Lucien glances over at Jax with eyebrows slightly raised. "How do /your/ parents feel about mutants?" Now he has to turn his head, to look back at Micah. And then down, with a very small upward twitch of lips. "I thought letting each other down is what family was for. Desi enjoys it here. I think she has found in your boys better friends than she has had in quite some time. They have made the transition easier. Sera is still quite keen on enrolling here. Moreso, after today." "Mine? Hm. Pops is...not very vocal about it, like anythin'. S'just kinda...s'long as folks leave 'im alone about anythin' he won't raise fuss over it. Momma's sweet about people, don't really matter nothin' about 'em. She's very acceptin' in almost an over-the-top way. She tries really hard, also in a very elementary-school-teacher way." Micah keeps pushing his swing slowly. "Glad the kids are findin' a place they're comfortable an' makin' friends. How has Sera been? She was havin' trouble makin' friends at her school last I heard?" His head turns to better regard Lucien, eyebrows lifted slightly. "I mean -- it wasn't quite that simple. An' actually, um, I started -- projecting my /dreams/ while I was sleepin' as the first real-obvious-mutant thing so /um/ that. Got real awkward ended up -- actually throwin' more of a fit over me bein' gay than bein' a mutant and I hadn't had no plans to tell them the one an' didn't even know I was the other." Jax shrugs, toes rocking against the ground to absently push his swing back and forth. "Oh -- oh. The boys love her, too. An' I can't even imagine how couldn't /anybody/ dislike Sera, she's the sweetest thing." His nose crinkles up. "Guess the empath bit might throw people some." "Awkward --" Lucien echoes this with a slight tip of his head, but then a small smile flits across his face. "/Ah/. I can see how that would be a less than ideal way to come out. On either front." He studies the dwindling end of his cigarette, his next puff of it smaller. "Oh, Sera's classmates enjoy her company well enough. Their parents have reservations. Sera's family," his smile pinches thinner, "is hardly reputable company. And psionics are like mind-poison. Gaetan has a more difficult time still. He is tainted both by his family and -- well. He himself has difficulties with people. -- Are your parents aware of Jackson's --" Here he pauses, considering for a moment. "Well. Of who Jackson is?" “Ohgosh, that sounds like a horrible way t'wake up.” Micah is actually blushing faintly at this. “So that hasn't gotten any better...I'm sorry, for both their sakes.” His lips press thin again for a moment. “Yes, they're entirely aware. Or...momma's entirely aware an' pops knows whatever she tells 'im. I mostly talk with her an'...only pops if he's in the room an' she forces him in front of the screen or on the phone.” He sighs again. “Only stuff I don't really talk about is...the sorta dangerous stuff we get into. She'd fret herself sick knowin' about that.” "We should have 'em up," Jackson says brightly. "Or -- oh gosh or maybe go /down/ I don't know that's probably safer. But I feel like I should meet them -- an' they should meet the boys -- 'fore we -- ohgosh we didn't even /tell/ you did we?" His eye widens abruptly, hands tightening around the chains of his swing. Not that he follows this up with anything /helpful/, mind already jumping track back to Lucien's family situation. "-- We always /want/ to expand things here, open up schoolin' t'younger kids, or to adults what needa get a handle on their abilities, but. We're barely stayin' afloat lots'a the time as is, it'd be --" He puffs out his cheeks, exhaling heavily. "An' there's /so/ few mutant kids anyway, wouldn't probably hardly be much demand. But for those that /are/ it'd be so good to have a place --" His brow furrows. "Sucks, though, I'm sorry. T'ain't hardly fair to her to keep her from friends just because'a –" "Because her mother was a junkie? Because her brothers were whores?" Lucien draws in a last breath of cigarette, stubbing the butt out against the chain of his swing. The laugh he breathes out comes smokily, a stream of grey exhaled with the sound. "Many things are not fair. We are what we are." His knees bend, and then unbend; the rocking motion this gives his swing is the closest he has yet come to /using/ it for its intended purpose. "His genes are more just a question of /what/ he is. I should think that the -- 'sort of dangerous stuff' is as essential a component of /who/ Jackson is as his mutation is." “Mmn...as for comin' up here, you're only likely t'get momma unless it's for somethin' /direly important/. Pops doesn't...travel if he doesn't have to. Could go down there sometime, just gotta work out everybody's school schedules.” Micah shakes his head at Jax's aborted announcement. “See, I'm horrible at rememberin' t'tell people things. An' then I always want t'let /him/ tell 'em 'cause he likes tellin' so much. But then he always gets sidetracked in the middle of tellin'. So I'm tellin' this time.” He looks over at Lucien, slowing down in his swinging again. “Jax'n me are engaged. Ain't got...any kinda plans in place as t'the wheres and whens on that, yet. Plannin' on addin' me t'the adoption papers for the boys, too.” He chews at his lip at Lucien's comment. “I mean, they know about his activism an' have seen 'im on TV an' all that. But...how d'you even /start/ tellin' someone about raids on government facilities an' breakin' kids out of police fightin' rings an' bein' attacked by military forces in the sewers an' /shot/ in Harlem an'...?” He stops swinging, letting his head fall against the chain of the swing. "OH oh oh oh gosh we /are/!" Jax lights up at this announcement, literally, a soft glow briefly shimmering around him in time with his sudden bright smile. "I asked him an' he said yes /an'/ he gave me a ring what matches my hair." He holds up his hand, cheerfully waggling fingers at Lucien demonstratively. The smile fades, though, into an abruptly startled look. "Brothers? Wait, was Matt -- did Matt also --" His brow furrows briefly. "Huh, I didn't never -- actually think about what he -- sorry." His cheeks flush deeply. "... is a weddin' direly important? Though should probably meet 'em before then. Um. I don't really know the best way'a tellin', my folks found out /somethin'/ was up on account'a I went missing but that's -- not. Ideal." A brief smile ghosts across Lucien's face with this announcement. "Congratulations. I confess I was already aware. The boys told Desi some days ago. It is," he admits, "exceedingly pleasant to hear some good news." He leans over from his swing, reaching for Jax's wiggling fingers, a soft flush of warmth coming with the touch as he admires the ring. "Sunstone. I could not think of any more fitting for you." He moves his hand back to his own swing, but looks at Micah's hands somewhat expectantly. Jax's apology dims his smile, his head tipping downwards. "You needn't apologize. People get so hesitant to ever mention him now. Like he never --" He lifts his hand, lowers it again with a bit of sharper irritation when he remembers that his cigarette is gone. "He did have a life before cancer, though, yes. Although I dare say there are people out there with tastes that -- would have been more than pleased to spend time with him even through chemotherapy. Nobody, I do not think, that he would have enjoyed spending time /with/, though. But -- yes. He was in this line of work even before I was." His hand drops to his knee, fingers drumming there in a quick jittery motion. "Not ideal," he echoes. "For all that telling them would be hard, Micah, it would likely be harder still on your next of kin if they ever have to explain to your parents how you vanished or died and they did not even have the slightest inkling there /was/ a danger to begin with." Jax's glowing brings the smile back to Micah's face, just regarding him fondly for a moment. "I think this is the longest I've ever seen his hair stay the same colour. I mean, short of bein' /shaved/." He chuckles at Jax's question. "Yes, weddin's are direly important. I mean.../maybe/ he wouldn't agree on that, but momma'd /skin/ 'im if he didn't come, no matter where we were t'have it." Micah leans toward Lucien as best he can push the swing to the side one-footed, holding out his left hand with its little silver-and-blue ring. "Thanks, hon," he responds to the congratulations. "I have trouble keepin' track of who knows an' who doesn't, as it is. An'... Matt, no. I don't think he was apologisin' for /mentionin'/ 'im. Ain't nothin' wrong with talkin' about people who're gone. S'just...the precise topic of conversation could be a little sensitive t'some people..." He quiets completely at Lucien's further admonishment. "I know...I know...it's a... It's been more /present/ for me since Harlem, just. Maybe. If we set up t'see 'em in person. It might...help. T'do then, maybe. I don't know." His brows knit, forehead pressed to the swing's chain again. "S'just such a great match I can't hardly think 'bout changin' it. It /is/ the longest it's been the same colour, though, in spring I change it two or three times a /day/. S'/actually/ dyed now though so --" Jax shrugs, his cheerful rambling quieting at the other conversations. His fingers tighten /hard/ against the chains at the blunt mention of Micah dying. What lingers of his glow snuffs out in a heartbeat, his head dipping in a heavy nod. "We should -- make plans. T'go see them. After --" He swallows. "Some time after this week's through. Virgina ain't so far." He looks to Micah after this, nodding his head in affirmation. "No, I wasn't -- apologizin' for bringin' /him/ up I just don't know how -- comfortable a topic it --" His brow furrows, deep. "Wait but I thought he'd been sick on and off since -- if it was /before/ he got sick he must'a been --" The frown deepens, eye fixing down on his shoes as he does some silent mental calculation. Lucien takes Micah's hand, as well, the same wash of warmth flowing through the other man as he looks at the ring. "That is lovely, also. If nothing else, your wedding will undoubtedly be /decorated/ in the best of taste." He drops his hand back to his knee, fingers starting to drum there again. "Virginia is not far. And these do seem rather like the sorts of discussions best had in person." He raises his eyebrows at Jax's frowning. "Comfortable? I told you before, my profession is hardly a source of discomfort, in my life. Save the discomfort when /other/ people find issue with it." His fingers drum quicker, eyes flicking over to Jax through his deepening frown. "He was first diagnosed in his last year of high school," he confirms mildly. "There was a period of remission in between." Micah nods agreement with Jax. "We'll figure somethin' out, sure. A weekend or somethin' or...schools are out longer around Thanksgivin' an' all. Got...options." He nods again at Jax's brow furrowing and frown. "He was prob'ly pretty young, yeah. I mean...it's not uncommon." For all the somewhat troubling topics, Lucien's remarks on the ring and decorations spark another smile. "Thanks, hon. It's...we prob'ly oughtta actually start plannin'...somethin'. At some point. There's just always so /many/ things t'plan for, seems like. Might be nice havin' some...more pleasant plannin', though." "Yeah. There's a holiday comin' up next month, that might could be a good time." Jackson is slowly starting to rock his swing back and forth; with his feet rested against the ground the slow rocking seems less like swinging and more like self-soothing. "No, that -- I mean, he was a /kid/. He musta been -- Shane an' B's age, that ain't --" He shakes his head quickly. "M'sorry, I just. That ain't -- right." His fingers are clenched hard down against the chains of his swing, still, and now in the silvery moonlight there is a trace of shadow around him, curling tendrils of it creeping up his arms. "Yeah," he finally agrees, pushing out another smile. "Yeah, we should -- oh gosh wedding planning. Let's just make sure none'a us go the crazy-stressed route with all that. Somethin' -- laid-back." "Shane and --" This actually /startles/ a laugh out of Lucien, quick and amused. "Hardly, Jackson. By the time Matt and I were /their/ age we'd had over two decades' worth experience at this between the two of us." He sounds more amused by this than upset. His hand stills in its jittery drumming, and he unfolds himself from the swing to get to his feet. His eyes skip to the shadow creeping its way up Jackson's arm, his lips pressing together thinly. "I don't know who is the arbiter of /right/ when it comes to these things. /You/ worked, from the time you were quite young. Many people do." He reaches down to rest a hand against his swing, stilling it from the quiet rattling as it re-settles after he rises. "I cannot really picture either of you as the bridezilla type. I have no doubt you will find it in yourself to /fret/ far more than you should, though. Perhaps you should let the children plan it for you." Micah's brow furrows further, frowning at those shadows curling around Jax's arms. He rolls the cuff of his jeans up again to reset his knee to the sensors, letting it unlock from full extension. Standing, he walks over to Jax, standing behind him and running his hands along the back of his arms. “Honey, it ain't gonna help nothin'. Thinkin' about things that /might've/ happened an' didn't, okay?” He slips an arm around the other man's shoulders, pulling him back into a little half-hug. Lucien's words don't seem to come as a surprise, earning a little nod of acknowledgement. He looks torn, a moment, wanting to go to Lucien when the other man rises, as well, but occupied already and not wanting to leave Jax's side, either. In the end, he simply follows the conversation back to wedding plans. “Ohgosh, yes, please, somethin' laid-back.” Micah looks rather /relieved/ that this is a shared sentiment. Jackson, for once, has nothing to say. Just a slow widening of eyes, a tremble of arms as his fingers clench still harder. His lips press together, something in his expression that might be nauseated or might be on the verge of tears. He neither gets sick nor cries, though beneath Micah's hands the temperature under his skin is spiking higher. He leans back into the hug for a second, but then starts to rise, half-reaching towards Lucien; in the end he just sits down hard in the swing again. Swallows. Still doesn't manage to find words. The wedding talk now doesn't seem to really /register/. "Wasn't it just earlier this conversation," Lucien comments mildly, looking down at Jax from his standing position, "that we were discussing how easy it is to remain blind to uncomfortable truths? Forgive me; if I thought this would /surprise/ you I would have said nothing. I can't tell you not to be bothered, but I can tell you /I/ have long since ceased to be." He steps closer, pressing a kiss to Micah's cheek and then the top of Jax's head. "It is late. I believe we have a rather full day of /familying/ again tomorrow. Bonne nuit. I do hope whatever you plan, I receive an invite." He turns away, taking his cigarette case back out of his pocket to slip another cigarette between his lips as he starts out of the playground. “No,” Micah replies firmly, a shake of his head emphasizing the word, though his hold on Jax remains soft and touch soothing. “Y'don't...ever have t'feel like y'gotta /hide/ what your life's been because other people might be uncomfortable. 'Least not with friends. It's good t'be able t'talk an'...relate.” When Lucien comes close to deliver that kiss, Micah releases his hold on Jax--all but one hand remaining on the illusionist's shoulder--to pull Lucien into a tight one-armed hug. “I love you an' that means /all/ of you. You are your story an' /more/ than your story an' every /part/ of that is accepted an' safe here.” His expression turns a bit incredulous at the voiced hope for invitation. “Honey, how could you even think...? Go ahead an' presume. If there's any kind of ceremony with witnesses, you're on the list.” Micah's arm pulls in tighter again before releasing Lucien when he moves to go. He watches the other man leave, returning both arms to their previous task of encircling Jax. "Yes --" Jackson's voice is quiet. "I didn't --" But this is as far as he gets towards managing words, for a while. He lifts his arm, too, when Lucien comes close, briefly hugging him tight and fierce. It's only after Lucien has left the playground that he seems to find his words again. He gets up from his swing, turning to wrap his arms back around Micah, his head dropping to bury his face against Micah's chest. "I'm sorry, it's not -- /he/ clearly don't want nobody's pity I shouldn't -- I just -- twenty, /more'n/ twenty years that's -- Micah they were younger'n /Spence/ is how could --" His voice is shaky, muffled against Micah's shirt. "I would've killed her. I'd dig her up and kill her /again/." Micah pulls Jax in close, one hand reaching up to pet at his bright-dyed hair, soothing little nonsense-sounds whispered near his ear until he finds his voice again. “I know, honey. Y'were...busy thinkin' about your kids'n projectin' all the horrible on that image an' it's...hard. Work that I do with kids I see a lot of the worst people have t'offer. A huge block of the best, but the worst, too. All kinds of abuse an' neglect an' exploitation an' it is...awful. But, I guess, not entirely surprisin' t'me anymore. Just how awful people can be t'little kids. Between that an' what I've seen since comin' here. Guess maybe I /wish/ it surprised me more.” He squeezes tighter when Jax's voice begins to tremble. “We don't do enough, as a society, t'protect /any/ of those kids. But we, personally...the best we can do is t'help 'em live whatever life it is they have /now/. No matter if they're still kids or not.” His eyes flick toward the path Lucien took in his exit once more. “Did...did you ever make any headway on findin' anybody whose abilities might be hepful t'him? Like we talked about with 'im a while back?” Jax's arms tighten around Micah, perhaps uncomfortably not for the strength of it but for the steadily growing heat rising in him. "Oh -- oh. I never really -- thought about. I know y'work with a lot of kids but I never -- really thought too hard about how they all end up seein' you I guess. In my head s'just easier to assume t'was more like you. I --" His fingers fist up tight in the back of Micah's shirt. "Every time I think I can't be surprised no more by what folks'll do to each other the world kinda proves me wrong." His face mashes harder against Micah's shirt, a trickle of damp seeping into the fabric. "... I feel like I'm gonna be sick." This statement is followed by a few deep breaths. His voice isn't noticeably steadier afterwards. "I didn't -- I ain't. Found nobody who -- I knowed a guy outta the labs what could quiet people's powers but don't nobody know how to get in touch with him no more and -- I need t'find someone else like that. I --" His fingers clench and unclench, balling up fabric and letting it go again. Then tightening once more. "I'm glad his kids are with him now. Thinkin' a them in that house. Thinkin' a /him/ -- of Matt --" He shudders, his breath catching raggedly. "... he works hard, for those kids." "Ain't just...the ones that end up seein' me on account of what other people do. It's oftentimes ones who started out...more like me. An' their caregivers can't handle the stress. Or aren't willin' t'do what needs doin' t'take care of 'em proper. Or...folks as take advantage of vulnerabilities. I'm sorry, this prob'ly isn't helpin'." Micah doesn't relax his tight hold on Jax, showing no outward signs of discomfort from his excessive warmth. "Shh." Micah is back to the little nonsense-noises as he feels the dampness through his shirt. When Jax announces that he feels sick, Micah guides him gently down to sit on the ground, silently leading with only movements and contact from his own body. "It's terrible t'think of. But that's not his situation anymore an' it's not /their/ situation anymore an' he's usin' his own horrible experience t'help make theirs better." He chews at his lip a little, disappointed that there is not someone at the ready to help Lucien. "I know...someone who sort of heals an' makes people feel...better. D'you think that's somethin' that could help? I'm not so good at knowin' how abilities work." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry --" It's a tiny whisper, repeated somewhat mindlessly as Jax sinks down alongside Micah; it continues through his continued burrowing in against Micah's shirt. "-- take advantage of --" There's another shudder, at this, his hold tightening on Micah. "How do you handle it?" The temperature climbs, too, dampness now drying /off/ under the heat radiating from Jax. "I just, I don't. At least the labs they're -- there's a /point/ to 'em, the stuff they're tryin' to --" But then there's just quiet, for a while. Soft hitched breaths, Jax's shoulders trembling, though there's little more dampness to show for it, dried off near as soon as it's appeared. "I don't know." It takes a while for this to come, but once Jax manages to move back on to the topic of How To Help he seems to calm, slightly, as he thinks through this, if the answer is that there's not much he can do. "Abilities work so different. Could introduce them an' see if it's any help. Could go either way. Makin' him feel better, healers -- might well /boost/ what he does as much as even it out. But ain't no way to be sure. I can reach out more, meanwhile. With all the mutants I know an' all the mutants /they/ know an' -- /someone's/ gotta be able to --" He quiets again, breath still kind of shaky. "M'sorry," he mumbles again. "Can -- can we go back in, I -- really want to -- check in on the kids. Please." There's a quiet deference in his tone, now; he doesn't really need to be asking /permission/ for this but his breathing calms more when he does, temperature not dropping but at least climbing no higher. "Shh, no, honey, why are you apologisin'? Things are upsettin' an' you're upset an' that's okay." Micah places a series of kisses atop Jax's head, still heedless of his rising temperature. "Y'do need t'calm down /just/ a little or you're gonna start catchin' things on fire, okay? There's a nice sprinkler in the middle of the playground if we need it, though. So y'just let me know what's best." He chews at his lower lip at that question. "I handle it 'cause the other option is /not/ handlin' it? An' these kids have had /enough/ of other people not handlin' things right in their lives. What they need is people keepin' it together an' workin' in their best interests. So...that's what I try t'do." Micah nods along with Jax's explanation of powersets and the plans to keep searching. "S'all we can do is keep tryin' an' lookin' for ways t'help. I'll ask m'friend if he doesn't mind havin' lunch with Lucien or somethin'. See if it makes any difference." His eyes close for just a moment, lips pressed thin again at the tears and the shaky breath from Jax. "Of course, honey. Of course we can go in an' check on the kids. An' maybe we can bring Spence out t'the playground sometime tomorrow. It'd be more fun with 'im, anyhow." His eyes open again, his head nodding at the deferential tone Jax has adopted and how it seems to be calming him. He releases his hold on Jax, pushing to his feet. When he speaks again he has scrubbed much of the softness from his voice. "Take a deep breath. Stand up. We're going inside now," he states in a clear, authoritative tone that sounds like it simply expects the orders to be followed. "Yeah. Yeah. They need -- people keepin' it together. Don't none of this stuff fix itself." Jackson pulls slightly back, glancing towards the sprinkler when it is mentioned. "Spence does love it out here. It'll be fun." He exhales, slowly, and then above them the moonlit sky is abruptly nearly daytime-bright, colourful fireworks-like flashes exploding into a briefly dazzling light show overhead. It's over soon, not so much for entertainment value as for the much /cooler/ skin that touches to Micah when Jax hugs him again. "'kay. Talkin' to your friend'd be a good. The -- the worst that happens is it don't help and Lucien's gotta socialize through one lunch." Jax swallows when he is released, rocking back on his heels. He nods at Micah's words, drawing in a slow breath and pushing himself to his feet without his earlier signs of shakiness. His hand slips into Micah's, warm as ever but not uncomfortably so. "Got a whole lotta kids right here tomorrow who'll need us." He says this like he's reminding /himself/, his voice steadier, now. He dusts mulch off his jeans, turning back towards the mansion.
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