The Rose: Voices Across an Ocean

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Tibet, 9 pm Tuesday. 8 am in New York.



Destroying the phone would be counterproductive. It also wouldn't make the connection any clearer, the Chinese operator's English any better, or the mansion phone get answered any sooner. Still, listening to the fuzzy little ring and breathing deeply wasn't nearly as cathartic. It was late, and cold, but that meant it ought to be midmorning in New York and why the hell wasn't Scott answering the phone?

After a couple more rings, it was picked up. "Hello?" came Scott's voice, sounding slightly out of breath - as well it should, as he'd been halfway down the hall when he'd heard the phone start to ring in his suite.

Amazing how his voice, even down the miles and miles of wire and across the ocean, could pull at her heart. "Scott? It's me. Jean." And damn, she didn't have enough time to say everything she wanted to say. "Mystique is here, in Tibet. She was in the monastery. Took the Rose - that thing I wrote you about. Magneto can't be allowed to get his hands on it. Can you come? I... I need help." A brief pause. "And I want to see you."

Scott opened his mouth and closed it again, repeatedly, for a full five seconds. Mystique's been a busy little bitch, hasn't he? was the first, fully-formed - and rather absurd - thought he had. "Umm..." Words, idiot. He took a deep breath. "Jean. I... how long ago did this happen?"

Cradling the phone against her shoulder, she raised her free hand to press lightly at the bruise forming around her eye, peering at her reflection in the rather dull surface of the phone, trying to judge it's color. "Clocks aren't a big thing here, but from the bruises I'd say it's been maybe four, five hours since she first came. Was unconscious for a while there, but I tracked her down the mountain. She hasn't got the Rose anymore. A couple of Chinese officials on the main road stopped her. From what I could see in their memories, she had the paperwork to get in and out of Tibet herself, but something made them suspicious and they claimed the Rose as cultural heritage, presumably told her she'd have to get the paperwork to take it out, too. They've put it in one of their safe houses, but there's nothing stopping her from coming back to take it again, and I'm never going to be able to get in there on my own."

Cradling the phone on his shoulder, Scott sat down in front of the computer, sending a quick call to the hangar to the team board. "Flight time's a problem," he muttered, not even thinking about how quickly he slid back into business-mode.

"Not one I think there's an easy way around," Jean said, leaning against the wall. "I think we have a little time - don't know if she'll try for the easy way, but if so it will take her a bit to fake the paperwork she'd need to get it legitimately. In the meantime, I'll scout the safe house. Keep an eye out for her and see what I can learn about their security." Looking up she caught the eye of the shopkeeper who was letting her use the phone. Without a word she handed over another large quantity of the little bills that looked so much like toy money.

Scott opened his mouth - then closed it again, his jaw clenching. "Be careful," he said. "Don't act until we get there, all right? Even if she does." The mention of her being unconscious hadn't slipped past him. "I'm going to bring Logan and Marie." They would probably be somewhat surprised to find him putting himself back on active duty, but Logan at least wouldn't care, once he found out why.

Jean nodded, absurdly since he couldn't see her. Logan, definitely, would be a good choice, given how hard it could be to spot Mystique telepathically. "I will," she said, relief that they were coming relaxing some of the tenseness in her shoulders. "Your best bet will be to land the jet up by the monastery and come down the mountain on foot. As soon as you're in range I'll let you know if the situation's changed."

"Okay." This was feeling just slightly surreal. They were going to Tibet, to find Mystique, and he was going to see Jean. Tonight. "... I've got to go start the plane," he said. And find my leathers. "I'll... keep an 'ear' out for me, okay?"

"Of course." Jean idly wondered if she could hunt down a proper cold compress for her face or if she was going to have to buy a side of lamb or something. Damn Mystique. Seeing her husband for the first time in months and she had a world class shiner and no make-up this side of the international date line. And, given the way her mind was wandering, possibly a concussion. "I love you."

"... I love you too." He swallowed. "I should go." There'd be plenty of time to talk to her in, oh, eight or nine hours. He hung up the phone before he could blurt out anything more about being careful and not going after Mystique herself. He'd said it once, he didn't need to be repetitive.

No, he'd just worry for the length of the plane ride.