Of all the flashbacks Cafas experienced in his dreams, that night's had been one of the oldest. He'd been having it for years, arguably it was the first one to ever really trouble him. The first that actually manifested itself as a reliving rather than a simple memory.

A world of screams, gore, living steel, and pink force energy had surrounded him. He'd felt so clearly the itch of the woolen balaclava, smelt the death in the air, tasted the blood, heard the screams and the maniacal laughter of his companions. Fear had burned clear through his morality, fear for his life, the same fear he'd seen in the eyes of every person the trio had met as they'd moved through rooms and hallways. He'd been powerless to stop it happening, and if he'd tried, they'd have killed him too, so he'd taken that fear and turned it to anger and gone along until the end.

He'd woken as his face met the carpet, having thrashed his way out of bed. Cafas had thrown himself to his feet, fists clenched, fighting stance, breathing heavy and muscles already burning. He'd scanned the darkness for a threat he knew was there, while his brain tried to comprehend the change of locale. He'd found only the familiar sights of his bedroom however, heard only the late night traffic; Early morning, depending on how you looked at it.

Fear and anger had given way to guilt and anguish as the adrenaline burned itself out, no clear threat having presented itself. He'd spent an hour then, laying on the floor, sobbing, until the carpet was soaked and his tears had run out, his face stinging from the slightly abrasive surface. With a pained resignation he'd pushed himself to his feet and found his way into his dining room, where his liquor cabinet stood against a wall.

It had mocked him daily. Tempted him to abandon sobriety for the numbing embrace within. The effort it had taken to resist had been Herculean, the thought of disappointing Maya all that had stopped him in moments of weakness. When he'd been shaking, his head pounding, unable to eat through nausea, she'd gotten him through. When he'd awoken, terrified and crying, she'd gotten him through.

The soft clack as the cabinet door had unlatched marked Cafas hitting rock bottom once more. He hadn't slept a full night since he'd stopped drinking. It had been so easy to just put the bottle to his lips and sink into a dreamless oblivion. Days spent trying to wash away the guilt with beer, repair his soul with spirits. So much simpler than facing his own past.

Within the cabinet, propped against bottles of liquor that never rested long enough to gather dust, had been something new. A note, by the look of it. His brow had furrowed trying to recollect ever putting such a note in, even as his hand had reached in to grab it. He'd pulled it into the light to read, and a dull ache had made its way through his heart.

Dear Cafas,

Surprise! You weren't expecting to see me here, were you? Or were you expecting me to have cleaned out this cabinet? I have to admit that I thought about it, but in the end I couldn't. If I took away your alcohol, it would no longer be your choice. It would have been mine. This is something you have to choose for yourself.

I choose to trust you.

Love,
Maya

He'd clenched his eyes to muster resolve, and a soft pattering had risen from the note. When his eyes had opened again, two small wet dots were causing the ink to run where his tears had landed. He'd grit his teeth and replaced the note. The cabinet doors had shut again, and a thought had crossed his mind he hadn't had the courage to acknowledge before.

I need help.

~~~

A disheveled but entirely sober Cafas Johnson entered the Mansion gates after a short bus ride. His shirt was un-ironed, creased still from the dryer, buttoned two from the top, though in no way seeming fashionably undone. His hair he hadn’t brushed since leaving bed, though long enough it was barely capable of sticking up at odd angles. His jeans were still crumpled from having been pulled out of the laundry basket. It was not a common look for Cafas. His publicist would not be pleased if photos got out.

Dude’s going to kill me.

He crunched up the drive, ignoring the distinct bite of Winter in the Fall air. Inside Cafas tread a familiar route to the staff offices, though in a break from routine he bypassed the collection of desks that were the X-men’s paperwork hell. Instead he continued walking until he came to a door he’d never thought to be entering. Marked “Counselor's Office”.

Here goes…

Cafas knocked, waited a beat and turned the handle, leaning into the neatly maintained office through the gap. ”Miss. Taylor? Sorry to call you so late last night, and thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I uh… I guess I need to talk to someone about my mental health.” Years later than he should have, perhaps, but better late than never.

The call had been... fairy unexpected. Gemma got it on her on cell, not on the office phone, and it was a number only current and former Mansion residents knew. For emergencies. Which this clearly was, although she was not entirely sure what kind.

By the time Cafas reached the Mansion, she was in her office, decently dressed and nursing a cup of coffee. She stood when the knock on the door came.

>>”Miss. Taylor? Sorry to call you so late last night, and thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I uh… I guess I need to talk to someone about my mental health.”

"Come on in" she nodded, offering him a seat - the office had quite a few options of those "Coffee?"

She had not seen him around for a while. They had met before, of course, but he was not one of the people that regularly came to her for counseling. For one, he wasn't a minor. Or a student.

"I am here to help" she said, sitting back down "Tell me what happened."

"Come on in"

Cafas slipped through the door, though it was halfways open by the time he could get his frame through. He closed it gently behind him. The gesture seemed to be for him to take one of the many seats. Ultimately he chose one directly across the desk from Jemma. The woman was nearly as tall as Cafas, though nowhere near as broad. Still, she made quite the intimidating figure, he couldn't imagine any of the kids messed with her.

"Coffee?"

"Yes please, black, no sugar. The longer this all goes on the more I find myself running on the stuff." It really didn't help with the tremors, but it helped him not to nod off continually. It was a trade off he hoped to be rid of making. He was beginning to feel like he may just be adding caffeine to his addictions.

"I am here to help. Tell me what happened."

Cafas sighed, trying to cut through his own nervous tension. He had only admitted to himself that he needed help a few hours before. Having come time to actually speak to the person he hoped could help him, he was at a loss for what to say. He searched around for where to start for what felt like a age.

"So... I had a flashback last night. Happens pretty much every night. Last night though... Last night's was one of the worst that I regularly get. See, I've killed people. I've killed people in the line of duty so to speak, being an X-man." The Violin guy came to mind. It was one of the ones Cafas had the easiest time justifying, though the guilt of it was still there.

"I've killed people as a contractor for the government doing things they can't be associated with." A lot of people on only one job. That one at least felt like they had a justifiable end goal but... How could they know? No questions were asked once the package was delivered. Orders had been to destroy the package if escape failed too. Perhaps justifiable was the wrong word.

"I've killed people outside of those situation, and that hasn't always been self defense." Certainly some he'd only gone through with for self defense, but he'd ended up where he was through passion or calculation. From the massacre with Meld and Aura, to jobs he'd done with The Judge, he'd found ways once there to turn fear into anger, and anger into death.

"Every single event is etched into my mind in perfect detail. I don't just see them again, I live them again. Night after night. I started drinking frequently, because it numbed the guilt." And because with Calley always at work and Cafas out of the country for months at a time, he'd needed to support himself on something.

"Eventually I was making a habit of blacking out near every night on a bar, because I didn't dream when I passed out drunk. Then I was drinking nearly every waking hour. Now I'm trying to quit, You can thank Maya Csendes for that." It might have to be his choice, as her note had said, but she was his motivation. He wanted to actually make a proper attempt at a relationship while they could. The drinking was harmful to that cause.

"but the withdrawals are horrific, the craving damn near insurmountable, and the flashback have returned with a vengeance. Last night all that stopped me from drinking my whole liquor cabinet was a note Maya left." Tears gathered in his eyes at the memory, more guilt to add to the overflowing pile. "The thought of letting her down, after she had put her trust in me... It's the first time I've been able to admit I need help. I can't cope with this alone any more, and I have no idea how to fix myself."

Cafas fell silent. He figured that summed it up, though perhaps calling it a summary was perhaps overstating how concise it had been. He blew on the coffee that had found its way in front of him while he'd spoken and he sipped it gingerly. The temperature was just fine though, so he sipped again with confidence.

Perhaps it was all a bit much to dump on another person. He had no idea how woman opposite him coped. The Mansion's famous Mama T, who was lumped with the emotional baggage of everyone in the school and then some.

This... was something new.

Gemma kept her face straight as she listened, although she had to clasp her hands under the desk to keep them from shaking. She had heard people - students - admit to a lot of things... but not exactly to killing, not to this extent. Not even trying to justify all of it. Some on the X-team... some... she would have to talk to Sam about this. She would have to talk to Sam about this for a very long time.

The guy was a mess. Shaky, and not only from the coffee she gave him. He mentioned Maya.

Oh good, she would have to talk to Maya as well. Add that to the list.

Maybe they could have a proper staff meeting.

>>"but the withdrawals are horrific, the craving damn near insurmountable, and the flashback have returned with a vengeance. Last night all that stopped me from drinking my whole liquor cabinet was a note Maya left. The thought of letting her down, after she had put her trust in me... It's the first time I've been able to admit I need help. I can't cope with this alone any more, and I have no idea how to fix myself."

Gemma sighed, nodding to acknowledge everything he had admitted, and not making light of the situation. This was very, very serious. But it was also a start.

"All right" she said, considering her options "First we need to be very clear on this: I am not a psychiatrist. I can help, but I am not qualified to give actual, medical advice, and at this point... you might need that."

It was a fact, not pity or disgust.

"With that said... I will do everything I can to help. I think you have done a tremendous first step by admitting that you need help. It might have been with Maya's help, but the decision was yours. That had to be hard for you. I am glad you are here." she smiled a little at him, encouraging "I am not going to go around it: You have been through a lot. It is an incredible amount of stuff to sort through. No one could do it alone. That's not a weakness, it's just a fact."

Well, she hadn't bolted for the door. That was something. Cafas might have, in her position. He sounded like he belonged at the Sanctuary, not at the Mansion. Perhaps he did. Perhaps the weight of his actions was more than his guilt and morality could balance. He'd done some good, surely? Saved some lives? What was the balance there like? How many indirectly saved lives could make up for one directly taken? The answer was of course no amount. Lives weren't currency. You couldn't just exchange them like that.

>"All right. First we need to be very clear on this: I am not a psychiatrist. I can help, but I am not qualified to give actual, medical advice, and at this point... you might need that."

Cafas nodded. He'd known that. He'd had to turn somewhere though, and the Mansion was home. The Mansion felt safe, even if perhaps it wasn't. What would Jemma do? He had literally just admitted to murder. He'd not given any concrete examples, but he'd done it. Taken the law into his own hands, or trodden the path of the Order. "I understand." She had been carefully neutral. He supposed it was a reaction he should have expected. What was she going to do? Flip out? She really didn't seem the type.

>"With that said... I will do everything I can to help. I think you have done a tremendous first step by admitting that you need help. It might have been with Maya's help, but the decision was yours. That had to be hard for you. I am glad you are here."

Cafas couldn't tell if the smile was fake. Then again, he generally couldn't tell what people were actually thinking. He'd just never learned the knack for it, reading people properly. Whatever they wore on their face was as close as he was likely to get. So hopefully the encouraging smile wasn't fake.

>"I am not going to go around it: You have been through a lot. It is an incredible amount of stuff to sort through. No one could do it alone. That's not a weakness, it's just a fact."

"I appreciate it. I also appreciate that it's not exactly a one person job to deal with. Believe me I do. I just have no idea what to do about it. This was my best guess for where to start, but whatam I going to do from here? It's hardly the sort of thing you can just tell people. Hi, I'm Cafas, I've killed more people than I know what to do about and each time it broke my soul just a little more. Because who am I to take lives, to decide who's life is more important than whose?" Cafas held his face in his hands. He could feel his eyes burning with guilty tears. Angry tears. Anger at himself for ever getting himself into the mess in the first place.

>>"I appreciate it. I also appreciate that it's not exactly a one person job to deal with. Believe me I do. I just have no idea what to do about it. This was my best guess for where to start, but whatam I going to do from here? It's hardly the sort of thing you can just tell people. Hi, I'm Cafas, I've killed more people than I know what to do about and each time it broke my soul just a little more. Because who am I to take lives, to decide who's life is more important than whose?"

Gemma sighed and shook her head.

"I am not sure either. I guess it is only fair if I told you that before we even get started. I mean, there are policies and procedures for cases like yours... then again, none of those were created exactly with mutants and especially X-men in mind."

Even though they denied it on all fronts, the X-men often existed on the perimeter of the rules... if not downright outside of them. Gemma had learne to work with that to the best of her knowledge.

"What I can help you with is assembling all the people that can help you deal with this." she said finally "As you said, it is not a one person job. I can be one of those people... but you will need your support system up again. So, as for myself: I am a guidance counselor. I am here to listen and to talk, and I am happy to do that any time. I can also help with career choices and paperwork, if it comes to that. As I said, if you require medical help, I can't help you there, but I can make sure to help you contact someone who will understand your situation."

Not all doctors were equally professional when it came to mutants, after all.

"You will also have to work things out with the X-men. But I guess that is not news."

If he had been talking to Maya, he would already know that.

"Yeah, speaking of career, I'd appreciate someone that takes that whole doctor patient confidentiality thing a lot more seriously than personal wealth. A leak like this is the last thing the X-men need, and the last thing I need." Not that he thought Mama T didn't know that, but he'd said it before his brain had caught onto what his mouth was doing. Cafas sipped his coffee from shaky hands, uncertain if it was the withdrawals or emotional state causing the jittering.

"Working things out with the rest of the team though... I don't know. I've spent years pretending I'm fine. I can't be the only one that's killed somebody in the line of duty, but I kind of feel like the only one that can't justify that within them self." Being a glorified SWAT team came with its unfortunate instances. Cafas knew full well what it was to make life or death decisions, to have to stop someone from killing or hurting others. When you were thirty feet away and had only a second to decide and act, well... Sam drank like he knew that feeling too.

Not like that will make it easier to talk to him about it...

"The other stuff... Some of it wouldn't just take me down, some of it felt like a dream, but other people remember it. Some of it never officially happened, if you take my meaning. I don't know how much of it I should tell them. It's uh... It might not just affect me, you know?" It would take down Saph, too. Not that Cafas agreed with what the man did, but you save a person's life, and have them save yours, enough times, well, that bond wasn't the easiest to betray.

>>"Yeah, speaking of career, I'd appreciate someone that takes that whole doctor patient confidentiality thing a lot more seriously than personal wealth. A leak like this is the last thing the X-men need, and the last thing I need."

Gemma nodded.

"That goes without saying. I'll look into it. Obviously, DocProf would be best option... but I don't think he is qualified to handle mental care."
Honestly, the man was gruff enough on a good day; he was not the kind that would coddle the soul of others.

>>"Working things out with the rest of the team though... I don't know. I've spent years pretending I'm fine. I can't be the only one that's killed somebody in the line of duty, but I kind of feel like the only one that can't justify that within them self."

"I think you would be surprised" Gemma ventured "But since anyone else in the same place as you would keep it a secret just like you intend to, it is impossible to tell."

Some people were better at dealing with their problems alone than others. But Gemma was pretty sure not everyone on the X-team was as balanced and well adjusted as Cafas assumed they were.

>>"The other stuff... Some of it wouldn't just take me down, some of it felt like a dream, but other people remember it. Some of it never officially happened, if you take my meaning. I don't know how much of it I should tell them. It's uh... It might not just affect me, you know?"

Gemma nodded. Cafas had been part of the team; he knew things only the other team members would know.

"I would suggest that you trust your friends. Maya is clearly looking out for you; she would be a good start for a talk. She can help you figure out who else you should talk to... and of course you can check in with me about that too if you need help approaching them."

Sitting back, Gemma folded her arms, musing over their options.

"I think the first thing you should do is sort through what all you need to deal with. Make a list, if that helps. There are obviously a lot of interrelated issues here... but if you try to focus on all of them, or solve all at once, that is not going to lead anywhere."