Log: Jean and Chris

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

After getting back on Friday, Jean goes to hunt down her father-in-law and have words with him. Hiding out, apparently, only works so long for Chris.



Getting away was always good, but they still always came back. Usually more capable of dealing with whatever, but not always, though. Right now, Jean was not so sure Scott was really any more capable of dealing with his father than before. Which was ok; he didn't have to. Jean was going to do it for him.

She didn't storm through the halls, she hardly even strode, but the few people who spotted her got out of the way none the less. She just seemed to have that air of 'you don't want to mess with me right now' about her. And the ones who knew her well knew when to leave well enough alone.

The door to the guest room where Chris had been staying was open. He was sitting in the chair next to the window, poring over one of the photo albums Phillip and Deborah had brought with them from Alaska. None of the pictures in this one were older than a couple of years; they were all of Scott and Alex on various trips to Alaska since their reunion with their grandparents. Chris kept smiling down at them as he leafed through the pages, but there was an edge of pain in the expression, too.

Jean rapped her knuckles against the door jam, announcing herself, and waiting until Chris looked up before coming inside. "So," she said, eyes narrowed slightly. "We're home."

Chris grimaced slightly, closing the photo album. "Ahh. I had noticed that the two of you hadn't come back yesterday." The bruises on Chris's face were very visible in the sunlight. "Is Scott all right?"

"Bits of him have turned some assorted pretty colors, but he's had worse. And you?" The inquiry would not be called solicitous by anyone in their right mind, but she would at least ask it first.

"Feeling my age a little more than usual," Chris said wryly. "I didn't sleep very well. Too busy thinking about what a mess I made of that conversation."

"Well, I think you get no prize for that little deduction," Jean said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Chris sighed and set the photo album on the table beside the chair, then leaned forward and rested his head in his hands for a moment. "I just thought if he could vent a little, it might help. Only I wound up pushing too hard. And then Alex walked in on us."

"The problem with that," Jean said, eyes going a little cold, "is that you don't know him. You didn't have any idea how hard would be too hard, or whether he was really at the point where he needed to vent. Or what doing so would mean for him. He's a champion repressor and he hates being goaded. Almost as much as he hates himself for giving into a goading. Trust me, you didn't do yourself any favors yesterday."

"I'm starting to realize that, yes." Chris took a deep breath and straightened. "Sit down?" he asked, almost hesitantly. "I could use your help - if you feel like giving it - on what I should do now. Mom and Dad suggested I come back to Alaska for a while, and I'm wondering if it would be a good idea for more reasons than the obvious."

Jean stepped fully inside at last, not-quite grudgingly settling onto one of the spare chairs. She contemplated pointing out that, actually, she wasn't on Chris' side of this whole thing, but really, he probably knew that already. And getting Chris out of Scott's immediate vicinity would probably be good for both of them. "Giving Scott some time and some air wouldn't hurt anything, no. Might help. Might," she stressed again. "Even aside from all that, you really ought to go spend time with your parents."

"It's easier, with Alex. Not just the difference in personality, but... well, for him I'm not sure the last fifteen years really matter all that much," Chris said, and then sighed. "And no, I'm not wishing that Scott felt the same way. I feel like Alex is letting me off the hook far too easily."

"Alex also didn't..." Jean started, then paused and tried again. "The accident cost them both so much, but Alex came out of it and he still had something. He was adopted and had a life which approximated something normal. Scott... didn't. If it weren't for Charles he probably still would have nothing. If he'd survived."

"Things seem to have been pretty hard for both of them at times," Chris said after a moment. "I've been hearing Alex's stories." That he hadn't heard Scott's went unsaid. "I look at Scott," he went on slowly, "and I see someone very strong. I don't think I looked closely enough to understand what kind of strength I was seeing. Or how I might threaten that."

Jean's eyes narrowed again. "Threaten," she said slowly, "is not the word."

"It's not a diplomatic word. But I defer to the fact that you can read his mind and I can't," Chris said, exercising a certain degree of diplomacy - and discretion - after all. "I'll also admit I may be jumping to conclusions. But he won't talk to me, beyond bare pleasantries and implicit threats of grievous bodily harm if I disappoint Alex."

"Don't push him, Christopher," Jean said, and it was as much warning as advice. "He'll come around in time, or he won't, but pushing him has never ended well for anyone."

"Is that the voice of experience speaking?"

Jean's smile was tight. "I'm one of very few people who can get away with it, and even then you learn to chose your battles."

"I suppose I feel a certain sense of urgency with him. Moreso than Alex. I've gotten some idea of just how dangerous things can be for those of you on this team," Chris said, not quite bluntly.

"That," Jean said, her voice edging on cold, "is also not going to be a terribly successful argument. After all, you 'died' because of your job as a test pilot. And now you're a pirate. Neither of which are the most safe of professions."

"True. But a pirate, even a test pilot, isn't a soldier. And to me, that sounds entirely too much like what you all tend to be. Still, when it comes down to it, you're right," Chris said. "Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

"So," she said after a moment of consideration, eyes serious. "You don't have to, obviously, but if I were you I'd give him some time. Hell, we couldn't even manage an entire conversation for almost two weeks after I showed up two years ago. Go see your parents, Chris."

He smiled a bit wanly. "I was going to, anyway. They didn't like only being able to stay for a couple of days, but it's the start of their busy season. I say they suggested I come, but I think it was more of an order, at least from Mom. And," he said, with a sigh, "I can't afford to stay away from Madripoor for too long. Badri can keep things together for a few weeks, but I can't expect him to deal with anything serious from Chang. Not on his own."

Jean nodded. "Go. Give him some time and some space. Write him an email - something he can put aside until he's ready to deal with it."

"Good advice. Thank you," Chris said quietly. "For the advice, and for not showing up to throw something large at my head." His lips twitched briefly. "See, I can admit I would have deserved it..."

"You would have, and you do," Jean agreed. "And believe me, I was tempted. But. Right now I'm more interested in doing what's best for Scott. Which, for once, was not kicking the ass of the person who upset him. Fair warning, though; if it ever is, I'm not going to hesitate."

"I believe you."