Terry and Adrienne, Thursday night

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

Backdated to Thursday Night.

After Scott's talk with Terry, Adrienne checks up on Terry, too, though her method of attempting to help only seems to make things worse for her suitemate, even though she understands some of what's bothering Terry more clearly than she expected to.

  After watching the Red Sox trounce Baltimore on the big screen at Harry's, Adrienne found herself feeling pretty damn good. Then she had run into Scott in the hallways of the mansion. Her euphoria had vanished pretty quickly as the X-Man filled her in on what had happened to Terry and the other participants in the mission that had turned out to be a trap. With the memories of her own kidnapping still fresh in her mind, the psychometrist found herself agreeing to keep an eye on Terry before Scott had even finished asking. She'd even volunteered to contact her suitemate's husband so that Scott wouldn't have to, knowing there was animosity between the two without knowing the source.

She entered the suite quietly, without her usual whirlwind of comments and rushed actions. Terry was on the sofa with her computer. Adrienne halted, unsure of what exactly to say. "Hey," was what she finally decided on. Brilliant. "Umm... can I get you some tea or something?"

She'd been staring blankly at the screen since Scott had left, unable to force herself back into the clear, objective state of mind required for this task. Everything had filled back up with the guilt and worry and fear that she'd been trying so hard to keep at bay. Terry was really only still sitting on the couch because she suspected that if she tried to move, she'd lose control entirely. As it was, when Adrienne came in, she had to take several seconds before she could force herself to answer. "Thank you, no. Mr Summers is just being over protective."

"Mr. Summers?" Adrienne decided to play dumb, taking a seat in a chair next to the sofa and swiveling it so she could face Terry. "I don't know what you mean. What's he being overprotective about?"

That would usually have been cue for Terry to roll her eyes but she didn't even look up, though her hands curls into loose fists on the keys. "He told me he was going to ask you to keep an eye on me. I'm okay. Hardly a scratch on me." Her voice sounded flat and robotic even to her own ears. She was holding onto the tone too tightly for inflection."

"Damn. And here Amanda said I'd make a good spy because I'm sneaky," Adrienne lamented with a grin. She settled more comfortably into her chair, putting her feet up on the coffee table and crossing her arms over her chest. "Sorry, I'm more afraid of being on Scott's bad side than I am of yours, so I'm staying here and keeping my eyes on you like I told him I would." As if she'd take off now, recognizing Terry's tone for something she was all-too familiar with- someone in hard-set denial about her current situation. She considered pointing out that some scratches weren't 'on' a person so much as 'in', but she let it go. It sucked having people point out to you that they knew you were mentally scarred when you were trying so damned hard to pretend you weren't. "Whatcha doing?"

"That's what you get for listening to Amanda," Terry responded and reflexively saved her work again though she hadn't made any changes since Scott walked in. "I'm writing my report as best I can without half my team available." Her fault that. She should have gotten them out of there sooner.

"If you have any of their stuff I might be able to help you piece things together." She regretted it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Damn wanting to be nice to Terry. As if she really wanted to see what the hell had messed Terry up so much!

But Terry shook her head. "No, I don't have anything. I'll manage, thank you, Ms Frost." Finally she looked over at Adrienne, just a glance. The older woman was definitely doing a good impression of an immovable object. "So," she said firmly, deciding that if her roommate wasn't going away, they were going to change the subject at least. "How was your day?"

Adrienne shrugged. "Alright. Boston Red Sox won. I think as an Irish lass you should start watching Boston, by the way," she muttered to Terry, trying to keep things light. "'Day was busy. But I'm enjoying giving all my time to my company right now- I wasn't very involved in the business throughout the school year. It's nice to get back to what's familiar," she said with a smile. "I've been spending most of my week working to find a temporary admin for a month while my usual gal's on holiday. Fancy a change of pace for a while?" she suggested with a grin. "You could come work for me. I wouldn't yell at you too much."Her eyes narrowed pointedly. "And you wouldn't get kidnapped."

"Sure if Interpol doesn't send me an offer in the next week," Terry managed, pathetically grateful that Adrienne wasn't pushing the way Scott had. Breaking down in front of her roommate would be more humiliation than Terry thought she could handle today, not on top of everything else. "So long as the job doesn't require that I root for the Sox. I hear enough about it from my darling husband." Between the Sox and the Celtics, Terry heard entirely too much about Boston's sports teams.

"Ah hah, I forgot your husband was from Boston," the psychometrist replied in an understanding tone. "Alright then, as long as someone in your household roots for the Sox, I suppose I'll let it go. Please don't take a job with Interpol." She shook her head melodramatically. "It's bad enough you're taking the classes in school, but I'd really have to hate you on principle if you went into law enforcement full time, and I've already fulfilled my quota for hating people this month with that snooty princess."

Terry raised her eyebrows, "So this would be a bad time to remind you that my father retired from Interpol a couple years ago?" She needed to call him too. Her stomach twisted at the thought and she pulled her legs up to her chest defensively, wrapping her arms around her knees. "It's just an internship."

"I was only kidding, sweetie," Adrienne said when she saw the defensive posture. Sweetie? Where the fuck had that come from? "Interning at Interpol ought to be a great opportunity for you," she added quickly. "What sorts of things will you get to do as an intern?"

Terry thought about explaining why she was upset but then remembered the humiliation aspect. "It's not you, Ms Frost. Don't worry," she said instead and shrugged, "Filing mostly. Fetching coffee. All the things interns get to do. The important thing is that it gets my name in front of them and they'll be able to reference it back once school's over. It's this or robbing banks."

"It's not me?" She didn't want to prod, but if Terry wasn't like herself and actually wanted to talk to her about what was bothering her, she would offer to listen. "I don't suppose you want to talk about what it is, then?" She shrugged again. "It's okay if you don't. We can keep talking about coffee and robbing banks if you want. I could tell you about my lovely experiences interning, way back a million years ago."

Terry curled smaller. "My father... I fucked this mission up, Ms Frost. And tomorrow, I'll have to call my da and tell him about it and how my team paid for it. You understand, we used to do nothing but yell at each other and it's only been..." her voice broke and she bit her lip hard to stop the tears welling in her eyes. "I don't know how he's going to react. And it matters to me."

Adrienne felt something within herself twist painfully. She rose from the chair, paced with arms tight across her chest, willed herself not to comment. Of course it mattered. Christ. "He's going to say you're a failure. A disgrace to the family. That you're a pathetic fuck-up." Shit, was she speaking out loud? Pained, she risked a glance at her roommate, face contorted in sorrow. "Shit, shit, shit. Sorry. Yours won't say that, I bet." What would someone who wasn't a Frost say? "Your 'da' will probably tell you you did your best and that you helped keep them from being killed."

Adrienne's initial response struck home. Terry flinched hard and put her head down on her knees, smothering the sob. The rest of what Adrienne was saying was lost on her as she shook, hands fisted so hard her knuckles were white. It wouldn't have helped anyway. She mumbled something into her knees, too upset for the muffled words to be clearly heard.

Well, shit. This wasn't supposed to happen. Adrienne paced some more, unsure of what to do. After what felt like ages, she sat down on the sofa next to Terry. Her instincts were screaming at her to flee, go hide in her room and leave Terry before she upset either of them any further. Instead, she mirrored Terry's posture and sat with her head on her knees. "Your da's not really like that, though, right?" she asked, mumbling into her own knees. He couldn't be. There couldn't be another Winston Frost out there. "Your da's not like mine, sweetie," she said to reassure herself and Terry both.

Terry sniffled and raised her head again, blue eyes rimmed in red and pale Irish skin blotchy from crying. "But it's true," she said miserably. Her throat was dry and burning for a drink. She licked her lips instead. "It would be true. I did fuck up."

Without touching Terry, Adrienne got off the sofa and padded quietly into the kitchen to boil the kettle. She wasn't sure what else she should do, but her roommate looked awful and the lip-licking gave Adrienne the idea to get her some tea. While the kettle boiled, she paced some more. It would be so easy just to walk away. She wasn't Terry's mother. She wasn't Terry's friend, not really, not her guidance councilor or therapist. There was nothing in this for her. Why didn't she just take off, go to bed?

When the water had been poured and the tea steeped Adrienne huffed out an annoyed breath and steeled herself to return to the living room. She placed a mug on the coffee table in front of Terry and sat down next to the younger woman again. "You fucked up," she confirmed, speaking into her own tea. "Not really, cuz everyone's gonna be fine, but you're a responsible lass, so you're gonna be hard on yourself, and you're not going to let anyone tell you you didn't fuck up. So fine. You fucked up." She kept her tone quiet, sympathetic. She understood exactly how Terry was feeling. "You fucked up, and now you're gonna be miserable, and be pissed off at yourself, and then guess what? You're gonna get over it. Because that's what you do. You get over it. You learn from it, and you try again. And I bet you your father's going to say the same damn thing. Because that's what people do. It's going to be fine, eventually, sweetie."

Terry sat for a moment then retrieved the tea. She felt a bit better from the moment she inhaled its steam. There was nothing a good cup of tea couldn't cure. Even a bad cup of tea had remarkable powers. Adrienne's frank assessment of the situation stung, but that helped too. Diffused some of the extra guilt that came from thinking that people were going to spare her feelings when she deserved nothing of the sort. "This was my first time leading the team. I don't think I could have done a worse job."


"Ter, Garrison and his father took me and a team out just a couple weeks ago, and the same thing happened to us that happened to your team. It happens." She shrugged, barely believing the words coming out of her mouth. How far she'd come from the terrified, pathetic person she'd been less than three weeks before! "Everyone survived. You looked after them. You acted like a real leader, from what Scott's told me." She screwed up her face as if what she was about to say was physically painful. "I bet your dad would be proud of you." She drained her scalding tea in a single motion, as if wanting to erase the taste of what she'd just said. "I went out and bought a video game today. Present to myself for my first retail outlet opening at the end of the month. Want to play?" This heart-to-heart stuff was really making her uncomfortable. From her bedroom where she'd dropped it before going to Harry's to watch the baseball game, Adrienne retrieved a Nintendo Wii box. "Golf? Tennis?" she offered, setting the thing down on the floor by the television. "I actually don't have the first idea how to set this thing up," she admitted with a frown.