Not so Plain Jane - Walk Softly...

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jane is waiting for Scott and gets Jim instead. Lucky Jim...



Jim paused to glance again at the directions in his hand. He didn't know New York, but the professor's instructions had been scrupulous as always. The hardest part had actually been getting used to driving on the opposite side of the road. Fortunately, acquiring an American driver's liscence had been one of the first things he'd done upon returning to the States -- he'd already had some time to practice. A speedometer given in miles per hour was still a little strange, though.

He looked around, seeking out the post office. Charles had asked him to pick up a few things. Usually this was Scott's job, but Scott had been . . . preoccupied. Jim had been willing to make the departure.

There were few enough patrons in the little cafe, and those that were there for the most part ignored the redhead. She'd gotten a few appreciative glances, but once she'd settled in with her untouched mocha she'd mostly been ignored. The older man at the next table, however, was beginning to tire of the incessant sound of her nails clicking regularly on the table top. The woman was clearly waiting, but why she had to make that aggravating noise...

"Because it bothers you."

It took the man a few seconds to realize that the woman was speaking to him, green eyes fixed on him instead of out the window as they had been. "Excuse me? What?"

Jane's smile was decidedly unfriendly as she stood up. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I have business to attend to." She'd seen the school car pull into the post office lot across the road and, frustratingly, seen Haller step out of it. Why was he here? Why wasn't Scott here? It was supposed to be Scott. As Haller vanished into the building, Jane left the cafe and crossed the road. She was leaning against the car when he came out again, a look of surprise that almost seemed friendly on her face.

"Why, David, fancy meeting you here," she said. "I saw the school car," she added by way of explanation for why she might be waiting.

The familiar voice almost made him drop the mail he'd been carrying. "Wh-- Jean?" Jim blinked, turning. It was. His gaze automatically flickered across her outfit, then returned to her face. "I didn't expect to . . . um. You -- you look . . . good." What was he supposed to say? He hadn't seen her since she'd left that note at the hotel. 'You seem to be taking your separation well' wasn't really an option.

"Why thank you." Jane caught the look at her outfit, not that it was particularly discrete, but then again, neither was the outfit. She had at least refrained from the full black leather regalia, but the low cut shirt and tight skirt was a far cry from Jean's usual respectable look. "Getting away from Xavier's and... all that, really has done wonders for me. I should have left ages ago."

"I'm -- glad you're doing well," Jim said, at a loss. It was lame, and he knew it. You thought she looked well last time, too, remember? He struggled to make conversation, something he was less than skilled at in the best of times. "What have you been up to? Life outside the school, I mean."

"Oh, this and that. Enjoying not being constantly bombarded by the trivial trials of a bunch of teenagers. But you know what that's like, now you're the counselor. Things still going all right? You kind of got thrown in the deep end, but then, Charles isn't exactly known for making sure his staff are qualified before he hires them." She smiled again, a perfectly innocent smile, as though she hadn't just verbally slapped him.

"I -- yeah," Jim said, not quite sure what he'd just heard. Her tone hadn't changed at all. He shook his head, telling himself not to be paranoid. "I'm doing all right. The trivial trials are kind of a welcome change of pace." He rubbed the back of his head. "So what's next? Are you keeping up with medicine, or did you just need a change?" Which was one way of putting it.

To anyone else they would seem perfectly innocent questions, but to Jane the prying into her affairs simply piled on top of her annoyance that it wasn't Scott out here for her to play with. "Oh, for now I'm just going with the flow. Of course, since things are sort of up in the air, I'm going to have to take back that offer to help you with your powers. Not that you were exactly jumping at the idea. I don't blame you, though. I mean, after everything that's happened to you... It's not like anyone really wants to go around setting people on fire."

"No, I . . . I mean, that's -- that's okay." It was understandable. She had cut ties with the school. "It's true. I've set enough people on fire." She seemed different -- lighter, somehow. Almost playful, in a way he'd seen hinted at in their first talk. Was the school really weighing her down? It was part of her life for a long time. Maybe she just didn't want to deal with it anymore. That he could understand, all too well.

Oh, this was almost too easy, Jane thought to herself. The fact was that his shields weren't strong enough to keep her out and he wasn't sensitive enough to pick up on her spying. And that he was rationalizing her actions for her? Just made it that much more delicious. "And you probably want to work more on getting control of some of the... little things. Things that like markers. Although I admit that does give you a wonderful sense of perspective for dealing with the students. And who am I to question Charles' judgment?" There was just the faintest hesitation at Charles' name, barely noticeable, particularly with everything else that was going on.

Oh god, she did notice. Jim felt himself going red. "I . . ." He tried to fight the feeling that he was thirteen again. Or worse, ten. He forcibly stopped his thoughts on the matter and pulled himself back together. "Yeah. I think it would be an insanely bad idea to start experimenting with my TK while that's still an issue. I don't need to be the teacher who spends the night in the Box all the time."

"Aw, why not, Nate used to do it. I would say it was a healthy, productive step on the road to self control but, well, Nate used to do it." Amusement sparkled in her eyes.

"Yeah, Nate does a lot, I notice." Jim relaxed a little bit. Making fun of Nathan was more familiar territory. "He seems pretty on top of it now, though. I guess there are worse things to aspire to."

"Mmm, yes, I guess there could be worse things than being an epileptic ex-brain-washed-mercenary who's family keeps trying to kill you." You could, for instance, be telepathically locked in your own mind while the woman you trapped away for most of a year did everything she could think of to hurt the people you loved while she made you watch through your own eyes. To pick an example off the top of Jane's head. "That is," she amended, "his other family. Because Nathan has got a family who loves him, and that makes things worth it." Look, she could even say that with a straight face.

Jim smiled slightly. "It's not like anyone chooses their genetics. Moira's wonderful. And Rachel. As frightening as a telepathic, telekinetic infant can be at times."

"No, we certainly don't. I really don't think that, given the choice, any of us would have chosen... all this. To be, as Tommy likes to put it, freaks."

"No," he agreed, "probably not." I wouldn't have. "But there's not much use dwelling on it. As long as we are, we might as well use it the best we can. That is our choice, at least."

"You sound like a true disciple," Jane said, a hint of bitterness in
her voice. "The school really is the best place for you."

"Maybe. I'm still new. There hasn't been any serious damage yet." Jim paused. He hadn't wanted to pry, but the edge in her words compelled him to ask. "Can I ask what it was? That made you leave in the middle of the conference, I mean." She'd seemed to be looking forward to it when they'd talked, and had shown every sign of enjoying the conference itself. So he'd thought, anyway. But then, as he was well aware, he didn't know Jean very well. Was she simply that good at covering it all up? Scott's remark about possession came to mind, but Jim quashed it. To his very limited experience, she didn't seem to be acting all that unusual -- certainly not to the extent of warranting something as rude as a telepathic probe. Better to ask outright and get it over with.

Her look darkened slightly before she turned away. Internally, Jane was smirking to herself, but she kept her gaze fixed on the distance, as though caught in thoughts of past wrongs and trials. "The conference... was not the problem."

Obviously this was not a comfortable subject, but he couldn't help himself. Jim recalled Scott's fears about what had happened after her 'death,' though he tried to keep the question as general as possible. "Things just -- caught up with you?"

Hmmm, anger - anger was easy - but a touch of pain. In the eyes. Definitely. Turning sharply back to him, Jane said, "What do you want to hear, David? You're the therapist, so what do you want to hear? That I couldn't take the risk? That dying once for hi... for everyone was enough? Or that it was the kids? Brats coming to me every day for bandaids on their boo-boos? But surely that can't be it. Maybe it was patching up Haroun, and Alison, and Scott. Maybe it was talking Lorna into living. What answer is going to make this easier for you to understand?" Perfect.

Jim actually flinched. He could have kicked himself for bringing this up -- and why had he? Have to shove your nose in everyone's pain, Haller? This was between Scott and Jean, and Jean and herself. He had no right to pry.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to keep rein on the impulse to babble. "It's none of my business. I just -- I'm sorry. Sorry."

It took a real act of will to keep the smirk off her face and to be sure Jane looked away again, clenching her jaw as though trying to keep from saying anything mean. Anything else mean, since half a dozen wonderful options had offered themselves up as the man verbally backed away from the conversation. "You're right," she said coldly, once she had her face back under control. Standing up straight she stepped away from the car, no longer blocking his way. "It isn't any of your business."

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. The urge to bash his head against the nearest wall was an old friend now. He remembered to take a breath before attempting speech again. "I'm sorry," Jim said again, solidifying his position one last time. He could tell his welcome was definitely worn out. He fumbled for his keys. "It's just . . . people are a little worried back home. You don't need to justify your actions, obviously, but if you ever felt like talking about it one day it -- I know some people would appreciate it. That's all." Your husband, at least.

Jane couldn't hold it, the urge to laugh was too strong. She managed to turn it into a derisive snort before turning and walking off without a word.

Jim opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. What've you got, another 'sorry'? He turned back to the car and unlocked the door. He tossed the mail into the passenger's side as he slid in, trying not to look at Jean's departing figure.

"Oh, yeah, I'm a great counselor," Jim muttered, and buckled his seatbelt.