InsaneJournal

Who: Jamie Madrox [narrative]
What: What he's been up to lately
Warnings: BIG SPOILERS for the most recent X-Factor


Not exactly sure what day it was or what time it was, Jamie pushed the heap of blankets off of himself and was more than a little relieved to not be assaulted by sunlight streaming in through the wide gaps between the cheap blinds. It took him a little time to get out of the bed, but when he did, he went straight to the window and glanced outside. The night greeted him, moonlight streaming down on an abandoned Chicago alleyway and catching just so on the lids of trashcans. It might have been picturesque if not for all the trash and the shivering mass of a bum only partially concealed by cardboard.

Jamie yawned into his palm and then frowned, taking his eyes away from the outside world long enough to notice the clock. It was nearly midnight and he wasn't sure how long he'd been sleeping. And he was still tired. Jamie had found, not for the first time, that pity parties were exhausting. Between the depression and the alcohol, he'd put himself into a blissful sort of comatose state.

It was time to move.

Jamie had left X-Factor without so much as a goodbye. He'd figured that leaving the building and his cases in the capable hands of his friends would suffice for as long as he needed to be away from people. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before his friends came looking for him. And considering the fact that his girlfriend was a Jedi - a fact that was normally something Jamie got a hell of a kick out of, but wasn't really liking at the moment - it wouldn't be too hard for them to find him. And he just couldn't deal with that right now.

It surprised Jamie how numb he felt. The first days after reading the comic - what he remembered of them, anyhow - he'd been thoroughly miserable, staring emptily at a small television and shedding a few silent tears that he'd later pretend to forget. Awakening from his stupor a little more by the minute, he feared these feelings would return. It was a small relief that he wasn't overcome by that all-encompassing sadness yet.

Groping around the room in the dark, Jamie found his jeans on the edge of the bed. He picked them up and put them on. The rustle of clothes and the noise of an ambulance wailing down the street were deafening. The small hotel room suddenly seemed horribly constricting. Jamie yawned again, not bothering to clap a hand over his mouth.

Bending down, Jamie picked up his shirt off the floor and shoved it on over his head. No, he wasn't feeling sad. But he was feeling something and as the sleep wore off, he became acutely aware of what it was that lurked in his head and heart: guilt. Jamie felt guilty of a crime he hadn't committed. He felt sick of himself over the destruction of a child he hadn't even sired.

More than anything, he felt stupid for reading and keeping up. Maybe ignorance really was bliss. Things at X-Factor had been going so well. Things with Mia had been, quite possibly, one of the best and healthiest relationship Jamie had had in so long. And he'd had to ruin all that happy with his curiosity. Now Jamie had to worry about whether he could even have a kid one day, whether he even really deserved it after what he'd done. He was concerned over whether Terry would just show up one day looking for his head and even more worried that he wouldn't try to stop her if she did.

If it wouldn't have created another Jamie, he might have kicked himself, beat himself bloody.

Heaving a quiet sigh, Jamie glanced over the room once more. He hadn't brought any belongings with him. Even at his lowest, he'd known that he'd return to X-Factor eventually. He just needed some time to himself.

As he left the hotel room, Jamie fished through his pockets until his hand felt something cool and plastic. He flipped open his phone and saw there were new messages. He flipped it closed before listening to any of them. His friends could wait, he thought.

Bundling his coat around himself, he breathed out as he walked into cold night air. His breath was a puff of steam. Jamie walked quickly, the neighborhood not the safest one he'd ever been in. All he needed was to get caught in a fight in this mood. With a purpose that he normally lacked, Jamie turned a corner and walked straight to the alley.

"Hey," he said, searching for a huddled mass among cardboard. He paused when he saw his target. "Hey, man," Jamie said again, tone gentle. The bum stared up at him with frightened eyes. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Just wanted to-" Jamie stopped, held up his hands to show he wasn't a threat, "talk for a minute. You understand me?"

"Yeah," the bum said quietly, peeking out at Jamie nervously. "What'cha want?"

"Thought you could use this." There was a small plastic key card in his hand, catching the moonlight just so. "There's a cheap hotel right around the corner with room that's paid through until next Wednesday. Room 305. Anybody asks, your name is Lew Archer." Jamie tossed the card at the bum, who scrambled forward to catch it. He turned.

"Uh," Unused to such kindness, the bum found himself at a loss for words. "Thanks." He watched Jamie stalk off into the night. "Why're you doing this for me?"

Jamie looked over his shoulder. "Penance, I guess?" He shrugged and crossed the street and didn't look back again. He had no idea where he was going and that didn't really bother him.