xp_logs | Set just before the previous log with Moira and Marie-Ange (Reply)

By the time Marie-Ange changed her clothes into something not-slept-in, and made her way down to the kitchen, Doug was there, and rifling through the fridge. Not wanting to startle him, knowing that Doug, and everyone else, was going to be on edge for days, if not weeks, she leaned against the doorway, and waited for Doug to finish.

Doug fished a soda out of the refrigerator and shut the door. Looking over to the doorway, he smiled softly at Marie-Ange. "Angie," he said. "How was the nap?"

"Long. Very long, and for once, dream free.". She shrugged, frowning. "I don't think that will last though."

Doug nodded thoughtfully and looked at Marie-Ange, concerned. "How bad have the dreams been?"

"Bad. Very bad." Marie-Ange closed here eyes, and let out a sigh. "I.. you saw my post." She pulled out a chair, and dropped bonelessly into it. "I saw the attack a month ago. Angelo, and the soldiers, and.. "

Doug winced. "A month ago? And you saw it in your dreams? Ouch. Have you seen other things?" He pushed a mug of hot chocolate towards Marie-Ange.

"I think, a month ago was the first time for that dream." She took the mug, and wrapped her hands around it, but did not drink, still unsure as to how her stomach would handle anything. "The other question is not so easy to answer, because I cannot tell which dreams are this damned power, and which are not. I dream .. often." The frown on Marie-Ange's face was oddly dark for the quiet girl, and her words came out firm and obviously colored with distaste and frustration.

Doug reached out a hand and placed it over Marie-Ange's, feeling it shiver slightly with pent-up tension. "I can't imagine what that must be like," he said. "Have you talked to any of the staff about it? Professor Xavier? Dr. Mactaggart?"

"I have, some. It was not so important before, and I did not want to think about it. As soon as they are not busy.. None of the dreams .. " The mug in her hand shook, splashing hot chocolate on the table, and both of their hands. "The first time, it was Bobby, but I did not know until after, and then Miss Frost, but again, not until after. I should have known, and I should have said something." She blinked back the sting of tears, and clenched her hands around the mug. "What am I going to tell Angelo, and Paige?"

Doug gently pried the mug from Marie-Ange's hands and blotted the spilled hot chocolate with a napkin. "Angie..." he began softly, then sighed. "I don't have any easy answers for you. But I do know that you shouldn't blame yourself. You had no way of knowing that these weren't normal bad dreams."

"Doug? Is it wrong to hate this stupid power?" Marie-Ange's hands clenched into fists, knuckles white with tension. "It makes me not sleep, it gives me nightmares, and I don't even know if I can stop the things I see from happening." Her face took an expression more commonly seen on Sarah, or even Marie. "Stupid fucking DNA."

Doug cradled one of Marie-Ange's hands in his, trying to gently pry her fingers open, and sighed. "Like I said. There aren't any easy answers where we're concerned. Sometimes I wish there were. But the whole thing about not sleeping, and trying to stop the things you see from happening...I don't know. I really think you need to talk to someone about all of this. Professor Xavier or Dr. Mactaggart can make time for you if it's important. And I think this is."

"I know... I .. I know." With her free hand, Marie-Ange wiped some of the tears from her face, and then leaned her head on Doug's shoulder. "I just hate this. I hate knowing, and not knowing, and ... " A unmistakably frustrated noise ended her sentence, accompanied by a shudder that preceded a flood of tears.

Doug, at a loss for words, simply wrapped his free arm around Marie-Ange and let her cry. When the tears finally began to subside, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. He looked at it for a moment and sighed wistfully before handing it over.

Marie-Ange took the handkerchief for a moment, and then handed it back to Doug unused. "Ce n'est pas pour moi." She picked up the clean dishtowel draped over the back of her chair, dried her face, and handed the towel to Doug. "Thank you. For letting me talk, for saying the right things..."

Doug smiled sadly, folded the handkerchief back up, and put it back in his pocket. ~No, it isn't yours, Angie, but the person it really should belong to doesn't want it like that...~ "I try, Angie. I don't know if I really said anything right. I was just...you know I'm always there if you need to talk about this stuff, right?"

Marie-Ange took a slow deep breath, and sat up. "Sometimes, it is not what you say, but that you listen. You always listen, and it helps." She stood, and leaned over behind Doug, resting her head on his for a moment, and giving him a hug. "I should go see if I can find Doctor MacTaggart. You were right, I need to do something about this."