ArchivedLogs:Blank Canvas

Blank Canvas
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah, Sebastian
In Absentia	22 March 2014 Getting back to...normal?
Location <NYC> The Mendel Clinic - Lower East Side
With its sharp crystalline edges and sleek lines knifing up into the sky, this building is one of the most /distinctive/ new additions to the neighborhood. An angular structure in glass and steel, the tall tower has a deceptively slender look to it that is belied by the heavy security as soon as you enter the doors. The front doors are frosted with the Clinic's logo -- a rising sun over a rod of Asclepius -- a motif echoed in many places throughout the building. Visitors to the clinic must first pass through a small mantrap, guarded by some of the Clinic's security guards; once they make it through the metal detector and airlock's double doors they emerge into the much more hospitable lobby. With dark wood floors underneath and comfortable black and red couches at its edges, the high windows give the room an airy feel. A bank of elevators to one side carry visitors to the many destination floors, while the wide welcome desk at the other side is manned by a security guard ready to help point visitors in the right direction. It's been -- a /week/, that's for sure. And here in the bed that Jackson has occupied for some /while/ now he -- doesn't look much like /himself/, anymore. Once heavily-scarred and brightly-colourful skin is now smoothly unblemished, pale and healthier looking than actually it has been in many years after the combined efforts of many healers over the past days. Though his eye is still missing and his finger, as well, the rest of him is very much intact. He's been /asleep/ since the last of the healing, soundly and for once rather dreamlessly, just a foggy shapeless mass of colours drifting through the room around him, but now he's slowly starting to pull out of it. Groggy, still, his hand lifts to stifle a yawn, dropping back against the mattress as his eye cracks open, the shifting lights fading from the room as he slowly makes his way back into consciousness. He lifts his hand again afterwards, skimming it slowly over the top of his equally pale smooth-bald head, then drops it back to the mattress again with a small pensive hum. It /has/ been a week. Micah is just wandering back in from a discussion with Shane's and Jax's doctors and has apparently been given reason to be /smiling/, an expression that has been much lacking of late. He is wearing a plain navy henley and a pair of patchy jeans that may well have been the spare set of clothes he kept stored in his van, or something hastily purchased at a thrift shop. Though still a tousled mess, his hair looks recently washed. His smile broadens as he enters the room and sees Jax awake. "Hey there, Sleepin' Beauty. How're y'doin'?" Moving fully into the room, he leans up against the guard rail at Jax's bedside. Behind Micah there is a tiny blue shark creeping along, slow and rather exhausted looking. Sebastian has lost his Chelsea-bits, reverted now back fully to sharkhood. He looks like he's recently been through an /ordeal/ and perhaps he /has/, de-Chelsea-fying, Karrie-ing, he is wan and a little dead on his feet but he is smiling tiny-happy too as he sneaks in in baggy Red Cross branded sweatpants and sweatshirt and tentatively grips the rail at the other side of Jax's bed. He peeks in at his father, huge-wide eyes staring. "You're okay." This sounds both amazed and rather overjoyed. Jackson scoots slightly to one side, moving closer to Micah to make room on the mattress near Sebastian, patting at the mattress invitingly. "Alive," he answers the others softly. "Didn't think that was gonna be so, for a while there." He lifts his hand, curling his fingers against Micah's. "Oh, gosh, honey-honey. How are /you/ all doing I don't -- feel like I even -- /seen/ nobody since -- the world exploded." "I /been/ fine. I hadn't made it home yet when the buildin' exploded. Was in the park across the street with Hive. S'a blessin' I stopped t'pick 'im up, or I /might've/ been home by then, too." Micah shakes his head, his own lack of injury actually surreal in all of this, with so very many hurt or killed. "Entirely too near lost you /all/. The docs said we can take you home today, though. An' Shane, too, provided we get 'im t'water an' have 'im just /stay/ there. We're set up for a suite at the school an' it's gotten warm enough that it's not unreasonable for Shane t'stay in the lake. B...may wanna hang out with 'im for awhile, anyhow. Spence is over in Shane's room visitin'." Once it is firmly established that everyone is /okay/, Micah feels safer recapping just what had happened. "Shane an' B both were burned bad. Flicker'n Dusk got 'em out an' I was able t'stabilise 'em 'til the paramedics came t'bring 'em here. Another blessin' that B had Chelsea's healin' abilities still, 'cause that got 'im better an' much faster'n expected. Shane's been slower goin' with just 'is own. /You/ were saved by miracle of Jim, far's anyone can tell. Best guess was that he went all /tree/ an' covered over the both of you with thick layers of wood. Nobody would've known it but for Hive sensin' your minds in the...tree that was in what was left of our apartment. Flicker got y'both out t'the park. Ash an' some others have 'im planted in the woods over at the school tryin' t'heal 'imself. I've had Corey on standby...hopefully he might be able t'help. Remember those marigolds that were almost dead, perked up after only a little time near 'im? I was kinda hopin'...that might work for Jim. Since regular medicine's pretty...stymied on what t'do. But we're hopeful." He pauses before continuing Jax's half of that story. "Faelan had t'teleport you outta Jim. Then Kurt had t'teleport y'here. Was real...touch an' go just with regular medicine an' Joshua doin' some healin' an' Dusk donatin' blood for you. Corey an' his friend Kate--she's a nurse an' another healer--been workin' on you since Wednesday afternoon. That's what's gotten y'back on your feet, in the end." He doesn't jump right into Spencer's ordeal just yet. Sebastian crawls up onto the bed beside Jackson when the mattress is patted, tucking himself into a neat little ball to nestle in alongside his father. He curls himself under Jax's arm, nestling head against shoulder with a small flutter of gills. "Flicker's out at a regular hospital," he adds softly. "He's still in a bad way. And --" He hesitates here, turning his head in against Jax's shoulder. "He got /so/ many people out. Dusk was hurt bad flying people out of the building too, but he's healed really well. He's over at the hospital visiting with Flicker and Hive. Hive's fine, he wasn't in the building. Dai'd been there for Game Night but he's -- mostly okay. Tay and Aly, too." "Oh -- oh gosh, oh wow. That's a -- that's a whole lot of -- oh wow. Is -- is that -- who was even -- how did it even /start/ what /was/ that what /happened/? Did anyone --" Jackson curls his arm snug around Sebastian, pulling him closer and turning his head to press a kiss to the pup's forehead. "I mean that felt like -- like /me/ when I go nuclear but /I/ didn't --" He shudders, shaking his head fiercely. "I didn't -- I wasn't --" He draws in a quick breath. "You're okay. You're all okay. Thank God. Thank /God/. Sounds like I got so many people to thank -- oh, gosh, Flicker. S'he gonna be --" His brow creases. "Jim? How's he gonna be, he -- I think he -- is he gonna be okay?" "They think it was an explosive device planted outside Ryan's apartment. Folks are speculatin' that...someone was makin' good on the death threats he's been gettin'. He an' Horus weren't home. Who else? Doug got cut bad, but he's been recoverin' fine. Jayna hit her head pretty bad but she an' Hanna are okay." Micah bites his lip, eyes skating to the floor at that question. He pulls up the bedside chair, sitting in it and reaching over to hold Jax's hand before the litany begins. "We did. Lose folks. Seventeen of 'em an' one of the firefighters. Mostly from our floor since it was closest t'the explosion. The girl across the hall who worked at Home, Araceli. An'...Liam was right there. Zombie made it out but his roommate R.T. didn't. That couple that had just moved into Gabriel's apartment. The Garcias an' all three of their girls. Rose from 306. Mr. Malik from 301. The Canatellas' little boy. Amy an' Graham from 402. Mrs. Phipps from the second floor. An' Janae from 507. S'a lotta folks still real hurt..." Micah's hand squeezes Jax's before taking a deep 'now or never' breath. "Spencer. Is only okay 'cause of Karrie an' B. He spent all last night havin' real bad nightmares 'bout fires. The school was able t'ping his GPS an' sent Aloke out with Peter an' some scuba equipment to...bring 'im back from the Bay of Bengal. Hank said it looked like he had prob'ly been gone from the blast injuries before...the water. Karrie was too exhausted t'do anythin' by the time they got 'im back here, helpin' out with other folks from the Lofts. So...Peter. Had the thought t'keep 'im cryogenically. I held 'im while they... But Karrie was able t'try yesterday an' he's gonna be /fine/." This last is said rushed, tight, as if needed to assure /himself/ as well. "He's gonna be fine." Sebastian curls his arm back around Jackson. He squeezes in around Jax, gentle at first and then tighter as the list of dead starts. "Wasn't you," he says, very softly. "It was -- some hateful --" He shakes his head, holding Jax close. He falls into silence as the names of the dead stops and Spencer's tale begins, his gills starting to flutter rapidly. His cheek presses to Jax's shoulder, claws starting to prickle lightly down into the bedsheets before he remembers to pull them back. "He's going to be fine," he reiterates this. Also like he's reassuring -- everyone. "Karrie's really tired and I'm really tired, but he's going to be fine." "Oh -- oh -- oh." Each of these ohs gets a little bit smaller, a little bit breathier, as this list goes on; Jackson's eye grows a little bit wider. He pulls his hand from Micah's, fingertips moving to his lips with Liam's name, with R.T.'s, a tiny whimper shivering out of his throat. "Oh, no." He lifts his hand to cross himself at the end of the litany, closing his eye and shaking his head. But his eye opens again, breath catching entirely when Spencer and Karrie's names are mentioned in conjunction. He squeezes Bastian fiercely against himself, eye flooding with tears. His mouth falls open, widening into an O, the lights around the room shivering bright and unsteady as he just falls into ragged-breathed quiet. "Hey, hey. Honey... He's okay. He's okay. An' B's okay. An' Shane's gonna be okay." Micah's voice is the sort of soft-soothing that a parent might offer a frightened child. He leans down to press the release button for the bed's guardrail, lowering it. Climbing up on Jax's other side, he wraps his arms around him with his top hand extending to rub at 'Bastian's back. "It's been. Horrible. An' ugly. An' painful. But they're gonna be okay." He has no such comfort to offer for the list of those still dead. Sebastian burrows in against Jackson's side in silence, gills still fluttering as he squeezes closer. His eyes close, and it takes a while of silence for him to relax into slow uneven hitches of breathing again in between the quick motions of his gills. He doesn't even attempt speech, just hugs Jax close, though the ferocity of his squeeze slackens into a more gentle drape of arm as he slips back into an exhausted drape against his father's side. Jackson lets out another tiny whimper, shuddering in between the other two. The lights shudder along with him, flickering painfully bright but then settling down. "Oh -- oh." He squeezes his eye shut tight, tears squeezing out to drip down his cheek. "Ohgosh. OK. Ohgosh. OK. They're all -- okay. They're all -- here. Still. An' Karrie's -- okay. But -- okay." For a while he lapses into just shaky breaths, turning his head to press his forehead against Micah's. "Where are they? We should -- we should go --" His breath hitches, maybe a laugh, maybe a sob. "Oh gosh. /Where/ do we go, we don't got no -- no. Um. Wow. Where you even been – sleepin'?" Micah's hand reaches up to pet down 'Bastian's gills at the sound of laboured breathing. He presses Jax's head against his shoulder, cradling him comfortingly. "They're okay. Shane's still checked into a room here. Spence is over visitin' 'im now. B's mostly been stayin' on a cot in 'is room. I've been stayin'...over there." Hands entirely occupied, Micah gestures with his /head/ to a cot on the other side of the room. "Except last night. Hank wanted t'keep Spence for observation overnight just t'be sure everythin' went okay, so I stayed with 'im at the medlab. We got a suite set up for us'n Spence at the school, an' the docs cleared you t'go as soon as y'feel ready. Shane an' B both got their rooms there, too. The folks from the Lofts as ain't been stayin' in hospitals or at the school or with friends are set up at shelters with the Red Cross." His lips brush gently against Jax's forehead. "So you just say the word an' we'll go. I brought a set of Xavier's sweats from the school for you. Ain't nothin' fancy, but I figured you'd wanna do your own clothes shoppin' later." Sebastian is still quiet. His gills stay fluttery until Micah's hand presses down against them; they slowly press downward, his breathing resuming. He slowly sits up, pressing a kiss to Jax's cheek, sliding his legs off the bed. "I'm going to -- sleep, okay? I'll be with Shane. Just -- be okay? Just keep being okay. Come get us when it's time to go?" He glances at his dads on the bed, black eyes blinking once, and then slips out of the room. "Of /course/ we'll come get you." Jackson squeezes Sebastian close, and then releases him. He nestles closer to Micah, tucking his head against his husband's shoulder. "Yeah. 'kay. Okay. The school'll be good. I guess I feel -- pretty alright, they did a good -- an /amazing/ -- I don't even know where to begin t'thank -- I'd'a been pretty dead, wouldn't I. An' now --" Jax stretches out an arm, turning his head to look at it -- perhaps for the first time, really. His breath catches as his eye skims over it. "-- Oh. Ohgosh." "Love you, honey. Have a good nap." Micah props himself up on one arm, reaching over Jax to hug 'Bastian and kiss his forehead. "We'll be there soon enough. Y'can send Spence over here if he's keepin' you up, okay?" Then he settles back in, snuggling up to Jax once more. "It's been...all of you. I was /so close/ t'losin' all of you. If it weren't for so many people. Teleportin' an' healin' an' searchin' an' protectin' all of you. I had...you an' Shane an' B. All out on the grass at the park. Tryin' t'keep you alive with just my first aid kit." His jaw clenches, eyes squeezing closed for a moment. "An' holdin' Spence..." He forces a slow, deep breath in through his nose, out through parted lips, before opening his eyes. "I love you all so much." Micah's gaze follows Jax's to his arm. "Yeah, honey. You're kinda back t'blank canvas." "It's -- not me, this isn't me," Jackson whispers, first, but this fades away in light of Micah's words. He turns towards his husband, arm curling around the older man, lips pressing soft to the corner of the other man's mouth as he squeezes Micah close. "Oh, honey-honey. You didn't lose us. You got us now. You /kept/ us alive. You always do, somehow. I don't know how you manage so much. But you got us. M'still here with you. We're still here with you." His fingers trace against Micah's back, his forehead resting against Micah's. "I love you, too." Micah crushes Jax close against him, arms wrapping constricting-tight. "I'm just /so lucky/. T'have so many people who help me. That's all. It's the only way." He pulls back enough to return Jax's kiss, and more kisses to his forehead, lips, and both wrists. "It's you. You're /you/, honey. You're alive an' you're here an' you're mine an' I love you. The rest...y'can get the tattoos an' piercin's an' all put back over time, sugar. That'll just. Help you t'remember all over again. Who you are." "Think we all kinda need that, times like this. Think we're all kinda /gonna/ need that, the way this world is." Jackson returns the kisses brief-light, and burrows in against Micah's neck, curling his arms tight around the other man. He presses in close, drawing in deep breaths against his husband's skin. "M'here," he agrees softly. "M'here an' m'yours an' I love you. An' we got so many folks around. Who're family. An' we're all gonna have each other. All this /everything/ we been through an' we kinda jus' /keep/ gettin' through it." His skin flushes fiercely warm against Micah's. "... who am I, then?" Micah's nods of agreement are felt more than seen, his cheek pressed up against Jax's. "You...are my husband an' my best friend an' the kindest, most passionate, most colourful, most beautiful, man I know. You're a father and a friend and an artist and a teacher and a student and an illusionist and an activist and an anarchist and a volunteer and a Catholic and a vegan and a bleedin' heart and a fighter and a /ridiculous/ good baker and a ray of sunshine and...a Southern belle." He finally moves in to press a kiss to Jax's lips, holding soft and lingering for some time. "And you are loved. So very much." Jackson exhales, slow and shaky, closing his eyes and holding close to Micah. "I love you," he whispers again, returning the kiss deep and gently. "You make my life so much warmer. You make a lotta lives so much warmer. You done come in with /so/ much heart an' so much good /sense/ t'go with an' I don't know what I'd /do/ without you gluin' everyone t'gether --" He rests his head down against Micah's shoulder again. "I don't gotta know. Because you're here." He breathes out a small laugh, pulling back slightly to look down at his arm, pale and unadorned. For a brief moment it blossoms into colour, his old tattoos -- and old scars as well -- shimmering back into being along its length. Then fading away. "Y'know, I don't always know? Who I am. Sometimes I kinda rely on -- a lotta things. To remind me. I forget. A /lot/. Is that strange? I mean I don't -- /forget/-forget. More like I jus' feel disconnected. From my body I guess. I always /needed/ really concrete -- physical --" He shakes his head, nestling close to Micah comfortably. "Used different things. To remember." His cheeks flush deeply, here, expression shifting into distraction. "I'm not goin' anywhere," Micah reassures emphatically. "I don't know if that's strange. It's not somethin' I've experienced before. But...seein' as you're an illusionist. Maybe the parts that /don't/ change help ground you?" He snaps his fingers suddenly, in that way of a person recalling something they'd gotten distracted away from. "That reminds me." He twists to reach back to the bedside chair, pulling at the strap of his messenger bag hanging from it. Digging around inside for a moment, he pulls out one of Jax's collars. "It ended up bein' 'specially fortunate I started keepin' one in my van for when y'needed t'change 'em out. I don't got any of the cuffs since y'were changin' those on your own." He returns the bag to the chair, this time to rest on the seat. "Would this help?" he asks, opening the collar's buckle and holding it up. "Different things helped ground me," Jackson answers thoughtfully. "All my body mods was a big help. They was like -- somethin' I took an' /did/ to -- /make/ me -- me. Certain kindsa routines helped -- swimmin' in the mornin'. Like -- I'd jus' get in the pool an' let everythin' float away an' for a while it was strange cuz at the /beginning/ of a workout I'd be even /more/ disconnected cuz I'd just slip into the water an' the whole world jus' sorta vanished but the longer I was in there all my muscles started t'/ache/ an' it'd be like -- comin' back /into/ myself, kinda." He blushes, deep. "Oh gosh. I'm ramblin' again. I guess jus' -- the pain sorta. Reminded me where I -- even was. An' -- yeah, permanent -- things. Stuff that don't change, it -- helps a lot. Things that I know are --" The blush deepens strongly when Micah opens up the collar, and his eye widens, a sudden glisten brightening it. He leans in, pressing his lips hard to Micah's. "Oh -- oh. I think that'd -- I think that'd help a lot, Sir. Please --" He withdraws his arm from around Micah reluctantly, so that he can turn on the mattress, tipping his head to face the back of his neck towards Micah. "We'll get y'back t'your routines, sugar. Startin' t'morrow mornin'. An' you're just bein'...introspective. Ain't unusual after a traumatic experience. 'Specially a near-death kinda traumatic experience. 'Specially right after y'just had another one /right/ before it." The kiss silences Micah as he leans in to return it. Then he shifts away to give his hands better access to Jax's neck, slipping the collar on and sliding the buckle just /one/ notch too tight before backing it off to the appropriate one again. Getting back to routine. "Just let me know when y'wanna go, hon. No rush. We can sit here as long as y'like or we can get y'back t'somethin' more familiar as soon as y'like. Whichever." He pulls Jax back in close, wrapping his arms around him again. Jax's breathing catches, a pleasant shiver rippling up him at the tightening collar; when it loosens again he relaxes back against Micah, just nestling back with his husband's arms around him. His eye closes, and he tucks in comfortably against the older man with a quiet sigh. "We should go. In jus' a couple --" He slips his hand over top of Micah's. "Couple minutes," he decides. "Ain't like I got more healin' left t'do. An' if Shane's still hurt he'll heal up better if we get 'im in the lake. An' B an' Spence'll do better settled down somewhere comfortable with friends, around this place is -- hectic an' -- oh /gosh/ I don't even got the /slightest/ idea how long we been here," he realizes with a sudden blush. "But we should prob'ly get back t'normal." Micah curls against Jax with a pleased, relieved sigh, as if /finally/ letting some of the past week's tension relax away. “In a couple minutes. Get you dressed then collect the boys. /All/ the boys.” He nuzzles into Jax's shoulder, drawing even closer. “It's Saturday. The...incident happened Tuesday night. Been here 'bout four days, all told.” A little hint of a laugh comes at that last statement. “What passes for normal.” "In a couple minutes," Jackson says again, snuggling happily back into Micah's arms. "Saturday? Oh. I missed my second therapy." It should probably be noted he sounds /just/ slightly pleased about this. Just slightly. But after this he sounds a little uncertain: "Wait, Saturday? Four days?" And after uncertainty comes a mild note of panic: "Oh /no/. Saturday? Oh, gosh, how do we keep /doin'/ this, Micah? We gotta get back t'the school," he frets, "I need t'make the pups somethin' /good/ they probably didn't get /no/ kinda proper birthday nothin' at all did they?" Micah shakes his head, at first in amusement at Jax's tone during the therapy observation, then in answer to the birthday question. "They got their brother back. Yesterday. Was the best I could manage. You an' Shane been in the hospital. Spence's been... It's been chaos. I'm sure the twins'll understand if we have t'postpone a little. Maybe we can arrange a little somethin' next weekend. Folks need a touch more time for things t'settle down 'fore they'll...really be able t'handle a /celebration/." "Mkay. But once -- once we've --" For a moment Jax's tone slips back into a little heavier, a sudden weight of remembrance crashing abruptly in. "-- once we've had time t'mourn. We're still celebratin'. Cuz we still have them. An' each other. We still /have/ a lot t'celebrate." He turns back around, pressing a fierce kiss to Micah's lips. "I love you, honey-honey. Let's -- go get our boys home."