Jean comes to check up on Nathan

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

He didn't think this classed as spraining his brain. Not really. He wasn't bleeding from awkward places, after all, and it hadn't been his powers he'd overstrained. Had it? Nathan shifted awkwardly on the couch, trying to ignore the odd shimmering and flickering at the edges of his vision. The headache had died down to a tolerable level, thanks to the little blue pills, but he could still feel Charles holding his shields for him. He was supposed to be resting, letting his mind recover from the shock he'd put it through trying to break down his memory blocks like that, but not unexpectedly, he couldn't sleep.

Jean had just finished her shift in the medlab, and coming to check on their latest 'out'-patient seemed like a good idea. Especially since, for all that he was supposed to be resting, she would bet good money that he was not asleep. Tapping on his doorway she called softly, "Nathan? How are you doing?"

Jean? Jean could come in. "Dead," he called back, his voice wry, if hoarse. "Come back in three days." The door opened and he managed a wan smile at her as she came in. "Bad joke. Sorry. My head hurts and I think something happened to my sense of humor."

"I'd say that the head hurting was to be expected, and the humor thing is a natural result. But you're looking very well for a dead man. Have the pills been helping at all?" Jean kept her voice low and shut the door softly behind her - he didn't need more pain...

Nathan made an affirmative noise. No way was he going to nod; nodding would be bad, and involve sitting up. "Charles has got me shielded still," he said, hating the slight slurring to his words. As she came over, she passed through one of the shimmery patches and her hair seemed to blaze suddenly, almost incandescent. He wished his eyes would stop playing tricks on him. "Awkward when I do this sort of thing and can't wear an inhibitor. Damned virus."

"Yes, I can tell. His shields feel different than yours do." She settled onto a chair near him. "I really do think sometimes that you may be on to something, and the psi mutations are not successful ones. And I must admit that you seem to have found a new and unusual way to hurt your brain..."

"I was just trying to remember," Nathan said, wondering how much Charles had told her. "Push through some of those blank spots and see what they're hiding... it may not have been the best idea I've ever had." Wow, there was the understatement of the year.

"May not have been?" Jean asked him, arching an eyebrow. "Nathan, you esentially attacked your own mind with your mind, which, you must admit, is a pretty powerful weapon." Sighing, she leaned back in her chair, relenting a bit. "I know those blank spots bother you, but... Nate, there are better ways at getting past mental blocks than the brute force method."

Put like that, it really did sound kind of stupid. But it had seemed like such a good idea. Just slightly more... focused meditation, that was all. "I just wanted to be able to know for sure," he said wistfully, feeling oddly defeated. "This is driving me insane, Jean..."

"I do understand," Jean said gently, "but, Nathan, pushing this... You've already proven that that's not the way to go about it. And sometimes, yes, you have to go ahead and try it out and take the consequences just so you can know that it doesn't work. Now, at least, you know that much and we can work on finding something that will work."

"Moira just about throttled me. It's a good thing that I've mastered the pitiful look - oh, and that she doesn't actually want to be a single parent." He shifted a little, wincing. The shields around his mind never flickered; Charles' multitasking put his to shame, it really did. "I suppose this could have turned out a lot worse."

"No question about that," she said, although she didn't elaborate. Jean had done a lot of research into the power of mind over body - the placebo effect was just one, rather harmless sign of it - and knew how easy it was to damage your self by damaging your mental perception of your self. But Nathan knew much of this, too, and so she said instead, "I take it this all started because of your father?" There was a definite tone of disapproval to her voice.

He heard the tone and frowned. "No, don't lay any of this on Saul," he said, pushing himself up a little on the pillows. His head spun in protest, and he reached out for the bottle of water set carefully within arm's reach. A couple of long, careful sips actually helped. "I suppose I got impatient. Frustrated, like I said." Nathan took a deep breath, then let it out. "I got some records from him last night, about the settlement." Or from the taskforce, more correctly. "Stuff that confirmed things the way he tells them."

"Hmmm," was all Jean said, frowning slightly. She didn't like this. She didn't like the idea that Nathan's memories could be false, possibly altered, and she didn't like what she'd seen of Saul, even if that hadn't been true. Jean was willing to... not forgive - she wouldn't forgive that sort of treatment of a child, but she was willing to accept maybe it wasn't true. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

"I think maybe I need to start accepting that I'm not going to find the answers in here." Nathan raised a hand to his temple for a moment. "Which is messing with my head in a big way, because this whole last year has been focused on working with what's in here, sorting it out. I don't..." He stopped, made a face, and let his hand sag back to his side. "I don't like the idea of having to rely on answers from outside. Not anymore."

"I guess I understand that, too, although... It's hard," she finally said. "It's hard on both sides - it's hard to think that, after we go through all this work to control our powers an understand our own minds, that that's all that we've got a handle on. Ourselves. To then lose that... It just makes it all a thousand times harder."

"This is a very depressing conversation, you know." He managed a wan smile. "Then again, having to accept hard truths usually is depressing. Or maybe that's just the headache talking." Bella whistled sorrowfully from her cage and he sighed. "Please don't start, feathers."

"My guess would be 'both'. Would Bella believe a blanket over her cage meant she should sleep, or is that asking for too much?"

"Reeeeeed," Bella said almost woefully, and Nathan almost laughed.

"No worries, I think. She'll settle down if I go to sleep... or if I appear to go to sleep. She's something of a mother hen." Nathan shifted again, sighing. "I am tired. But I just can't... seem to settle."

Jean reached out and gently touched his hand, getting a faint sense of the buzz of activity in his mind - the contact letting her peek through Charles' shields, although she moved quickly away so as not to add any more pressure to his mind. "Are you avoiding sleeping pills for a reason, or just on general principle?"

"General principle?" Nathan said almost meekly, but he couldn't hide the misery in his eyes as he looked up at Jean. "I'm afraid of dreaming. After what I did to myself, it'd probably be the worst of it..." There was a soft murmur in his mind, suddenly, Charles pointing out the obvious alternative, and Nathan sighed. "Or, you know, I could have asked for help not to dream in the first place," he said, managing a little humor.

"Hey now, I've got no call to be chiding you on that note for at least another two months." Jean's smile was self deprecating as she rose from her chair. "But I shall leave you to Charles' care, because you really do need to sleep."

"Thanks," Nathan said as she got up. "For understanding." But then, she would understand, on a number of levels. It was a little reassuring to remember that he wasn't the only one who was struggling with their own mind like this.

"Anytime," she said softly. "After all, you do it for me. Sleep peacefully, Nathan."