Cornered: Welcome to Your New Home

[x-tatiana.livejournal.com]

Dr. Grey-Summers looks over Tatiana, and gets her settled in for the night after some persuading.


Jean had spoken briefly with Terry regarding the girl she'd brought
back the school - they could at least work together enough for Jean to
get a little bit of the story about her injuries - and so knew at
least a little bit of what to expect as she stepped into the private
room the girl was waiting. "Hello, Tatiana, right? I'm Dr. Jean
Grey-Summers, I work here at Xavier's. I hear you need a bit of
looking over?" The bruises on her arms and face were already purpling
a bit, but there didn't seem to be any major cuts.

Tatiana was so completely occupied with her own thoughts that she
didn't even notice the woman until she spoke. "Oh-" The word lept out
of her mouth unbidden as she swallowed hard, scooting back from where
she sat. She'd heard from Siryn (whoever she was. Who named their kid
Siryn, anyway? Maybe it was an Irish thing) that this place was safe,
but for all she knew, it was... Well. You read things in the tabloids,
and Tat had seen them at the bodega when she'd been stocking whatever
canned goods she'd been given.

"Yeah. Tatiana." She swallowed hard, and winced as she sucked in a
breath. "I... I can't really pay for anything." Not when she had less
then a hundred dollars left in her bank account. She'd been counting
on getting paid tonight, on and that was somehow just as galling as
the rest of it.

Well, not as much as that happening. I- And then she forced
herself to stop thinking, because she'd freak out again. She'd
already done it a couple of times in the car, and the last thing she
needed was to be a hysterical mess right now.

Jean had tightened her shields in advance but given how thoroughly
freaked out the girl was it didn't do a hell of a lot of good and she
couldn't help picking up on some of her distressed thoughts. "Don't
worry about that," she said. Moving over to the examining table, she
gently started cleaning the few cuts and scrapes, looking for signs of
more extensive trauma. "I'm on staff here; did Siryn tell you much
about this place?"

Tat winced at the sting of antiseptic on her scrapes, the worst of it
seeming to be the large patches of darkening skin. "She... She was
nice. She told me a lot." She didn't mean to be short with Dr.
Grey-Summers, it was just... She couldn't stay here. She couldn't
afford it, and besides, she wasn't really a mutant anyhow. Not all the
time. If she was careful enough...

She'd tried being 'careful enough'. She'd made it two months with
'careful enough'. But two months wasn't enough. She could still get to
Canada, maybe. They'd gone south, but she could find work, enough so
that she could afford the bus. Maybe she could get off right before
the border, and sneak across, since she didn't have a license or a
passport or whatever you needed to go to another country. She'd never
been, never had thought of going.

Who was she kidding? She didn't even have her birth certificate. "I-
the police." She pressed her lips together, looking rather steadily at
the wall. "They're probably going to be looking for me. I..." She
didn't remember it well, the sea of panic and fighting with her own
instincts overriding the details. "I hurt somebody." She said it
quietly as she looked down at the scrape that Jean just cleaned.

"Yes, I heard," Jean said. And, too, the dried blood under the girl's
fingernails was a fairly good clue. "As to whether or not the police
are looking for you, couple questions. One, how hurt is hurt, and two,
did they start it?" The girl's worries about money could be dealt with
later, but this was a more present (and relevant) fear. A pair of the
scrapes were deep enough that she thought they'd need bandages and
without even thinking about it she collected two from the counter by
the door and floated them over to her.

"I don't know." The words came out in a blurted rush, and much to
Tat's horror, her eyes started to sting. "I don't really... I mean,
I-" She'd been so overwhelmed when she'd struck out, because she
hadn't been going to do that, had just hoped to get away-

Then the man was bleeding falling back with blood spattering anything.
"I just- I'm not-" She hiccuped, trying so hard not to cry. "I didn't
mean too. It just- I don't hurt people, it just happened-" She
didn't hurt people, except she did. Just like the cat in the alley,
when she hadn't had a choice. She said it wouldn't happen again, that
none of this would happen again, and yet here she was. She was too
wound up in her own thoughts to even notice the bandages floating. It
all was just way more then she was able to process. This place- even
more then that she thought that she was going to get beaten in that
alley, that she'd not expected to walk out of it. Instead, she was put
in a car and driven to this place.

"Shh, sweetie, it's ok," Jean said, offering the girl tissues from the
medical stand. "It was an accident - these things happen. We're not
going to let anybody else hurt you."

"These things don't happen. I thought that I could make it
not happen again. People just don't randomly turn into rats
every time you turn around!" She gripped the edge of the table, the
tissue crushed in her hand, her voice catching repeatedly as her words
dissolved into harsh sobs, her shoulders shaking.

"Unfortunately, these things do happen. Manifestation is almost
never easy, and learning control is harder yet, but this is part of
your life now. It's who you are, as much as the shape of your jaw and
the color of your hair. You can hide it, deny it, wish and pretend it
wasn't, but it's not going to change." Jean's voice was understanding,
her look sympathetic, but facts were facts and they needed to be
faced.

"I can b-be careful-" She was only half listening, trying to stifle
the sound of her crying, pressing her hand to her mouth. "Then it
won't happen." She managed to look up at Jean, sniffling. She felt
horrible, not only because of the splotches of bruised skin, but
because of the headache and sore throat from crying.

Jean had a glass of water and a pair of painkillers waiting for
Tatiana when she looked up and offered them to her without a word.
"Doesn't look like you've got anything worse than a bad bruise going
on - you're going to turn some interesting colors, but you'll be fine.
We've got some spare rooms here, you're more than welcome to stay."

Tat balked, even as she took the water and pills obediently. "I..."
She trailed off. "I told you already. I don't have any money. I can
just-" How was she going to get to Canada? She didn't know much about
it, but it'd become almost a symbol. There, no one would know her, and
if she was careful...

"I'll figure it out." But she looked like she'd been beaten (possibly
because she had), and it'd taken her two months to make it as far
north as she had. And what if being careful wasn't enough? It wasn't
the last time. She didn't know what to do, and sucked in a breath
after she took the medicine. "I- Do you need any work done around
here?" She could get money that way. If she was careful, then she
could try to save enough for a bus ticket.

"Don't worry about it, really," Jean said. "Do you know what an
endowment is? Suffice to say, the school here has students on full
scholarship and we're..." kind of used to taking in strays "more than
capable of finding some space for you, for however long you need and
want to stay." Accepting back the glass she smiled. "If you
really want, none of the staff have ever turned down help, be
it administrative, here in the medlab, out on the grounds or in the
kitchen, and several of the students volunteer," Jean stressed that
word, wanting to put Tat as much at east as possible after her ordeal,
"but right now, let's just get you some rest."

She looked down at her fingers. "Why are you doing this? I mean, Siryn
told me about that man-" She'd not really forgotten, but it all had
become a mess of words. "And- But there's no way you could just do
that, for a total stranger. Endowments..." She knew what that was. The
vet clinic she'd worked at and her school had both had one. "Those,
you have to apply for and write essays and... and all that stuff." She
paused, and her eyes widened just slightly. She'd been able to calm
down enough she could actually think, and, well... Oh, God. What if
they're some kind of cult?!

But... cults weren't like this, and didn't have people in uniforms
that rescued people and then cleaned them up. ... Right? They were all
weird and farmed and wore a lot of white. "... I..." She opened her
mouth, then closed it, not even sure what to say.

"You don't even know my last name." That seemed like a good thing to start with.

"Well, much as you don't like it, you already have the one major
qualification for enrollment here, it being a school for mutants and
all," Jean said. "But you're right, I don't. And there's a couple
other demographic blanks on the front of this file here," she added,
gesturing to the medical form she'd brought in with her. "So, since
you're all cleaned up, we can start there and do this properly."
Picking up her pen again, Jean said, "Hi. I'm Dr. Jean Grey-Summers.
Nice to meet you. Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."

"... No, I don't. If- If I'm careful, it doesn't happen." She was
insistent, her hands gripping her shirt. "It- it won't happen."
It's not like she woke up and she was green, or like she could
suddenly lift buildings or fly or anything that mutants could do. So
what if she'd gotten that headache- she could still remember it, and
it made her feel kind of sick, but she didn't have this all the time.
It was like she was normal.

"Woah, woah kiddo, shh. It's ok." This was clearly not Jean's month
for dealing with distraught adolescents. "I think you need to rest.
Doctor's orders. Recover from today and we'll talk about tomorrow
tomorrow."

"I can leave whenever I want?" She asked it softly, her shoulders
hunching as she looked at the floor. She didn't really have any other
options, because... she'd seen the signs. Westchester Country. That
was money, and money... Her chances of finding small jobs were slim.

"M'name's Tatiana Caban."

"Yes, you can. I promise." Jean's heart went out to the confused and
overwhelmed girl. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tatiana Caban. Now,
come on. Let's find you a room you can get some sleep in. I bet some
of the girls would even have clothes you can borrow while we get yours
cleaned."

She had a little bit of stuff in the motel room she'd left, but
nothing that was important. She shrugged. "I- I don't know if you can
get the blood out. But- I mean, I can..." She swallowed, her voice
low. "This is all I have." The other girls in the motel room had
probably already split with her stuff. "Are you sure that there isn't
something I can do? I mean- I..." She didn't have anything. Shampoo,
clothes- Who was going to let her borrow their underwear?

"We can at least try." Tatiana would probably be amazed at the
capability many of the residents had in getting blood and other things
out of clothes. "And, if we can't, there are school clothes you can
have - assuming you don't mind having an 'X' or 'Xavier's' branded
everywhere." Jean smiled, making a few last notes on Tatiana's file
and then closing it. "And we can talk tomorrow about picking up or
getting you some more supplies of whatever you need. And about what
you can by way of odd jobs for the school, if you want."

Tatiana nodded, seeming... at least a little less panicky. "I- I don't
mind. I mean, I'm not picky." She'd lost a lot of the general
tendencies of teenagers to be that way in the last few months. Her
stomach rumbled, and she flushed, but the question she asked was
stereotypical for a teenager, but the way she asked wasn't. "Is there
food? I mean, I- ... Could I have something to eat?" She'd not eaten
for over a day, because she was going to stop at McDonalds after her
shift. The hunger was clear on her face, and as much as she wanted to
manage on her own, she wasn't stupid.

"There is. Kitchen first, then clothes and bed?" Jean suggested,
stepping back so Tatiana could hop off the examining table. "There'll
be loads of leftovers we can heat up." Although, if Lorna got a look
at the girl, there would likely be much fussing and feeding, and Jean
wasn't sure how Tat'd react to that.

"... Yeah. That seems... good." She wondered deep down if she was
dreaming, that she'd maybe gotten knocked out or worse in that alley.
This seemed way too good to be true, and when things seemed too good
to be true, they usually were. She knew that.

"Thanks."