Jean and Bobby

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

While Jean is on the nightshift, Bobby comes down to do his part. It starts out fairly well, but when he gets on his own his mental state takes a turn for the worse and Jean just can't ignore it.



Bobby carted a tray of sandwiches down the stairs to the medlab. Two am would have been an odd time for sandwiches, if it weren't for the round-the-clock patients needing care, and since Bobby didn't have classes in the morning, he'd volunteered for the late shift, catching a quick nap earlier in the evening.

His steps slowed as he entered the medlab area, eyes drawn against his will to that door.

Jean looked up from her work as she felt the new presence come into the lab and sighed softly. She'd worried about this when Bobby had volunteered to help out but had felt he deserved his chance to try and help, and to face his demons. Standing, she headed out into the hallway, remembering the last time she'd stood between one of the children who'd been attacked at Tommy's door. "Evening, Bobby," she said softly. "Thank you for helping out."

Bobby started guiltily as she entered his field of vision, smiling faintly. "...Sandwiches," he replied, stepping forward with the tray, and very determinedly NOT looking at the door, now.

Jean's own smile was not much more present. "They look good. Want to bring them in here?" She nodded back into the main room, away from the door at the end of the hall.

Bobby nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly, and followed her into the room. "How's he doing--Haroun?" As if there was any chance that he'd be asking after Tommy.

"His treatment's progressing very well," Jean said. "We're... hopeful." Because there was definitely a lack of certainty in either case. "And how are..." you? "things outside the medlab?"

"Oh, you know. Same as always..." Bobby set the tray down on a metal countertop, then turned and leaned against it, facing Jean. "Organized chaos." His smile was more genuine this time; it still hit him at odd times, even after two months, how glad he was to be home.

"Mmm, I can imagine. I never think how much I miss the madness until I... well, miss it." And Jean worried that she was missing things. That, stretched as thin as she was, there were things she was letting slip through the cracks. And, while she trusted Scott and the others to catch what she missed, she worried about it.

"Yeah," Bobby replied fervently, nodding. "You wouldn't think you'd miss the crazy so much, but it's a comforting kind of crazy, somehow." He grinned, thinking about his friends here--and then fixing on Terry, his grin widening even as his cheeks coloured. Best part about coming back, he thought happily, firmly burying some less happy thoughts beneath it.

Even if Jean hadn't been a telepath, it would be apparent where his mind had just gone. His smile was very much that of the young and potentially in love, and Jean knew it well. "And how's Terry?" she asked, smiling in return.

"Um." Frustratingly innocent, his mind provided before he could stop the thought, and he dropped his eyes to the floor, blushing. "She's okay," he said, clearing his throat. "...It's been hard on her."

As his gaze moved Jean's smile slipped into the 'amused grin' range, but at his answer it faltered. "Yes," she said, sighing, "I can imagine. Has she... has she talked about it, do you know? With you, or Charles, or anyone?" And have you talked about it with anyone?

Bobby shrugged and sighed. "Not that I know of. I found her last week, before Haroun...she was dehydrated, looked like she'd been outside running or something for a while." He'd tried to talk to her then, a bit, but it hadn't been worth making her pass out.

Jean sighed again, adding 'talk to Charles, again' to her mental list of 'things to do whenever there was a chance' and settled back onto her chair. Gesturing for Bobby to take one of the chairs as well, she considered whether or not to pry. But, really, she was worried. Waiting until Bobby had taken one of the seats she asked, "And how about you, Bobby? Have you talked to Charles, or anyone, about how you're feeling?"

Bobby stiffened, looking guilty--and caught. "Nah," he admitted quietly, with another shrug. "I'm okay, though. It's Terry I'm worried about."

Jean let the 'I'm ok' pass without comment. "Well, you know you don't have to be worried alone. I wish I could do more, I wish I had time to do more for you, all of you. But why not speak with Charles or Scott about Terry, if she won't open up to you?"

Bobby folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "I was kinda hoping she'd come around, but..." But she hadn't, and he was worried, and he needed to do something about it. "I'll talk to the prof," he assured her, knowing there was a very good chance this talk would result in him spilling about a lot more than concerns about Terry. Not something he was looking forward to, really.

But Jean gave him a relieved sort of look as their minds went in exactly the same direction. Especially since this was Bobby, and he was well aware that Charles was unlikely to let him go with just an 'I'm ok', and his being willing to face that was reassuring. "Thank you, I'd appreciate that."

Bobby nodded in acknowledgement of what she was really thanking him for. The last thing Jean needed right now was to be worrying about him, on top of everything else, after all. "No problem. So, while I'm down here, any helper-type stuff I can do?"

Jean glanced around. The lab itself was in good shape, except for the papers spread across her desk which she was working on, and Tommy was being watched by his night shift, which didn't leave much. But... "Willing to clean out the office? There's a scary quantity of coffee cups, and the sheets we stuck on the couch need washing now that we're not crashing down here regularly."

Bobby nodded once and got to his feet, flashing her a quick, hopefully reassuring grin. "I'm on it."

Jean smiled. "Well then, thank you again."


---


There were times when Jean could lose herself in her work to such an extent that Scott, standing next to her and all but poking her on the link, could be missed. But this? This was not that time. It was too important that Jean be aware of the world around her right now. As vital as analyzing the results from Haroun's latest medication was, it was equally vital to know if there was a problem in Tommy's room or to be able to respond if Haroun's monitors picked up any anomalies. So it was not possible to ignore the growing cloud of dark thoughts for long. She had tried, she really had, because Bobby deserved his space and he had promised to go see Charles. But now it was starting to impinge on what concentration she allowed herself. Rubbing at her temples, Jean left her work and headed back towards the office.

Bobby knew better than to let his mind wander around this place, really he did, but simple tasks tended to do that to a person, and despite his best effort to keep his thoughts away from Tommy, the bastard kept slipping back in. He was tense and angry as he straightened things, stacking coffee mugs to haul up to the kitchen, straightening papers, emptying the wastebasket.

Jean hesitated in the doorway to the office, leaning against the jam and simply watching Bobby. His movements had that extra edge of distracted, angry thought to them that would have given away his emotions even if she couldn't feel them pushing at her shields along with his thoughts.

And the thoughts weren't pretty. How Tommy deserved to die, how all of them deserved to die, thoughts that would make Magneto proud, really. The hatred that the comatose boy had brought back to the fore of Bobby's mind made his stomach churn, but his disgust with it didn't seem to lessen the actual emotion any.

Firming her shields against the onslaught, and wishing they were just that much stronger than they still were, Jean finally spoke, aware that Bobby might never notice her presence otherwise, while his was keeping her from her work. "Bobby, will you please talk to me? It's not healthy to keep all of this bottled up."

Bobby jumped, looking horrified at the implication of her words. He looked at her, chest heaving slightly, then shook his head and in a choked voice said, "I hate them. I hate them for what they did, for what they are, for what they think..." He scrubbed at his face with his palm, swallowing. "I guess I"m no better than they are."

"You are better than they are," Jean said, and it was very much a statement which she clearly didn't doubt in the least. "You may hate them, you may even want to see them all dead to a man, but you don't act on that desire. You don't do what they do, and you will always be better than them."

Bobby was silent for a moment, because it was true, but it didn't make the hatred feel any better, did it? "I know I shouldn't hate some kid--he didn't do anything to me...but he's a reminder." He leans against the desk, looking at Jean pleadingly, wanting her to understand. "I'm okay as long as I don't have to think about...what I went through. But with him here--I can't not think about it, anymore." Which was probably yet another reason he'd been so willing to help out in the middle of the night.

Jean finally moved into the room, coming to stand by Bobby. "He's a symbol. Unconscious and helpless, there's nothing to attach to him except that which has come before. It's different for Terry, I'm sure - she knew him. But... for you, and the rest of us, he's just one of the many who hate us. And here he is, helpless. At our mercy, and recieving our mercy although he does not deserve it." And truly, although she would give him mercy and care to the farthest of her abilities, Jean did not believe he deserved it. He had hurt her kids.

Bobby nodded, taking a few deep, calming breaths. "It'd be so easy to just...press a pillow to his face," he whispered. No point in not vocalizing it--the thought had been swirling around his mind for the past little while, it was almost certain Jean was already aware.

"It would be," Jean agreed - the thought had featured in her dreams, when she'd dreamt, often enough that she was fairly certain Bobby was not the only one in the school to have had it. That was the other, non-spoken part of having a twenty-four hour watch for the boy. It was a very real fact that he might worsen suddenly, but it was equally true that he needed a guard, although perhaps not so little as he would have in a 'normal' hospital. "Scott wants to see him wake up," she said, only partially a non-sequitur. "Because, if he does, they lose. One more mutant they couldn't destroy, and this one one of their own. The traitor in their midst, and we still stopped them from destroying him."

Bobby shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes. "I just want him gone. I don't care how," he said quietly. "As soon as possible."

"I know," Jean said, and there was resignation in her voice. She couldn't fix all the ails of the world for the kids, and this was just one more proof of that. "And I wish I could. But I can't." Another thing there was simply no question of in Jean's mind. No matter what she wanted, for the kids, for herself, no matter what, Tommy would receive the best care they could give him, for as long as he needed it.

"...I know." Bobby sighed and looked at the coffee cups, crossing to gather them up. "Maybe me helping out down here isn't such a good idea, though," he admitted, much as it pained him.

"Bobby," Jean said, her voice gentle, "do what you need to do. Talk with Charles, and decide what would be best for you, and I will support you to the best of my abilities. Whether it be working down here and facing it, or avoiding the medlab, or finding a middle ground. Do what you need to do. To help you. To help Terry."

Jean's last words were the clincher, of course. He'd do anything to help Terry. He'd kiss the dirty bigot, if it'd help Terry. "I will," he promised, voice slightly hoarse.

Jean reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't the same as the hugs he'd occasionally allowed (and even more occasionally demanded) when he'd been younger, but the contact helped, centered her and reminded her why she would do anything to protect these children. Why she had done everything to protect them. "It will be ok, Bobby. In the end. I promise."

Bobby smiled in response and nodded. "Thanks," he whispered, and ducked out of the room, carting the used coffee mugs up to the kitchen.