Jean-Phillipe and Kurt, Jean-Phillipe and Jean-Paul

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Jean-Phillipe is holed up in his room, but one of the X-Men decides to come by and talk to him after discovering the truth about him from meeting with the Professor. It's not at all what Jean-Phillipe expects, actually.


Kurt knew, or thought he knew, something of how Jean-Philippe must be feeling. Not the whole of it, of course, but something, and it was enough to give him some sympathy for the young man, and that sympathy was enough to send him to Jean-Philippe's room.

His knock was polite, almost diffident, and certainly not what Jean-Philippe would be expecting.

Jean-Phillipe grimaced. He supposed this was what he had to look forward to, as he was certain that Professor Xavier would have told the X-Men at the very least. Not opening the door was tempting, though he supposed whoever it was could circumvent it in as many different was as there were different mutant powers at the mansion if they were of a mind to. So he crossed from his bed to the door and cracked it. "Yes?" he asked when Kurt was revealed.

"Hello, Jean-Philippe", Kurt said calmly, even kindly. "I wondered if we might talk?"

Jean-Phillipe shrugged and nodded. He doubted he could keep the teleporter out of his room if Kurt really wanted to say whatever it was he wanted. Not that he had much to say himself, but he opened the door wider and allowed Kurt into the room.

"Thank you." Taking that as a full invitation, he settled into a chair in the corner of the room, tail curling up and over his shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

Solicitous concern was approximately the last thing Jean-Phillipe had expected from a member of the X-Men. He looked rather disbelievingly at Kurt, then shrugged again and sat on another chair a ways away from the other man. "I have no idea," he answered the question truthfully. He truly had no idea what to do or how to react to anything at the moment.

"I wanted to ask, you see", Kurt said quietly, "because I doubt many others on the team will... but because I wanted to, not only because I felt someone should."

"Thank you." The words were awkward, but Jean-Phillipe was appreciative of Kurt's concern. "I admit that was about the last thing I expected anyone to come in here and say," he said with a wry smile. He had nobody to blame but himself for the situation, though.

"I am not just another member of the team." This wasn't something he was used to admitting to anyone he didn't already know it, but for this kind of conversation... "I am Mystique's son."

Jean-Phillipe's eyes widened. "Quoi?" he asked, dumbfounded. Trying to imagine the shapeshifter as anything like maternal stretched his mind to its limit. He could not imagine two people more different than Mystique and Nightcrawler. Even he and Marie-Ange had -some- things in common as family, despite their many differences.

"She did not raise me", Kurt explained. "But she has helped me, a few times now. And once, I helped her to escape the team."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jean-Phillipe asked. He had no idea what he thought of this revelation, on top of his struggle to confess his actions to Professor Xavier, and not simply running away from it all.

"Because I thought perhaps it might help. To know that not everyone here will turn away from you, for what you have done."

"Hm." Jean-Phillipe thought. "It does, a bit." He was still quite nervous about the reactions of others, but the fact that at least one X-Man didn't want to simply run him out of the mansion was something.

"Then I am glad. I know what it is to be cast out, and I would not wish it on anyone." He paused, weighing his words. "What will you do now?"

"I am not sure at this point." Right at the moment, it seemed too large just to deal with the consequences of his actions, and the reactions to them being revealed.

"If you need somewhere to be... I have a brother, a long way from here." Kurt looked squarely at the younger man, the offer genuine. "He would take you in, just for my asking."

"I appreciate the offer. I will consider it." Jean-Phillipe looked despondently out the window. The lure of getting away from the mansion was strong, but he was not sure how Mark and Marie-Ange would react to it.

"It will stand, for as long as you may need it", he promised. "But Jean-Philippe, things will be well. The people here have forgiven far worse than you have done."

"I hope so. And thank you," Jean-Phillipe said to Kurt.

---
JP-the-elder comes by to check in on JP-the-younger, since he's been scarce around the mansion as of late. Jean-Phillipe decides to come clean, and the rest of the conversation is exceedingly awkward.


Jean-Paul wasn't even certain why the young man had sprung to mind as he'd returned from the grocery and, given that they had only spoken the once, was less sure why he was seeking him out.

'And you know that's a lie. He was not hard to look at, spoke well, and appeals to your ego. Pathetic, Beaubier.'

Not that self-awareness kept him from knocking at Jean-Philippe's door. He could hear a growling sort of music, even through the door, so someone had to be in.

The urge to once again ignore the knocking was strong. He wasn't exactly eager to be social with anyone after the meeting he'd had with the Professor. Still, he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray he had near the cracked window he'd been smoking it out of, turned down his music and crossed to the door. "Bonjour," he said neutrally when he cracked it to see Jean-Paul Beaubier. Not that the attractive Quebecois was any less attractive or anything like that, just that he was wallowing.

"Bonjour." The door was barely open enough for him to see young man's face, but he could smell cigarette smoke, despite the cracked window only just visible, and the music was the sort of thing that was excellent for slicing your wrists to. The message was plain: Jean-Phillipe was not up for company. The proper thing to do would be to leave, not indulge curiosity. "May I come in?"

Jean-Phillipe paused, then shrugged and opened the door wider. He moved back into the room and sprayed a bit of air freshener to cover the cigarette smoke before closing his window. The draft from it was sharp and cold, so while he opened it to disperse smoke, it was entirely too uncomfortable to keep it open.

Jean-Paul stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I have not seen you around for almost a month now. I was starting to think you had left."

Given that he was a new arrival at the mansion, Jean-Phillipe wasn't sure if Jean-Paul was an X-Man. He knew that the other man had been at the mansion before, but perhaps he had not heard the latest news. "I have been...avoiding people," he admitted. The idea of leaving the mansion was tempting, but the idea of Brotherhood reprisal, or worse, Mark and Marie-Ange hunting him down, frightened him.

"I suppose that answers one of my questions; I was wondering if you would be at the bonfire tonight." Jean-Phillipe was keeping his distance, and Jean-Paul didn't try to close in on him. "Is this..." He gestured to encompass the generally gloomy state of the room and its occupant. "...anything that can be helped?"

"It is my own fault." He was being melodramatic, and he knew it, but Jean-Phillipe couldn't be bothered to leave his morose state of mind. He sighed. Perhaps it was time to begin attempting to mend fences, and be honest with more people than the Professor without waiting for others to do it for him. "I spoke with le Profeseur earlier," he explained haltingly. "I had been working for la Confrerie," he said, slipping into French without realizing it. "Spying on the X-Men like Pietro Maximoff had been doing for them against his father."

Jean-Paul's eyebrows rose in surprise and he was silent for a moment.

"You are still here and not bound or in holding," he ventured at last, "so either you have repented and are being allowed to stay, or they are still deciding what to do about you. Does your cousin know of this?"

"Certainment," Jean-Phillipe answered. "She was the first to know, actually." He almost imagined he could still feel the imprint of Marie-Ange's hand on his cheek. "She threatened to kill me if I ran away," he said matter-of-factly.

"I do not doubt it. And I do not doubt that others will feel the same, given what has happened to their friends." He couldn't deny that he felt some of that urge as well, but he had questions. "Did you know?"

"About what?" Though it was easy to make an assumption about what Beaubier referred to. "The attack on Kane and Wisdom and the others? Non. That was one of the things I spoke with the Professor about, and he scanned me."

"C'est bon. That means that killing you would not be justifiable." And that was about all of the good news. "Why the regrets now? What scared you off?"

"The things I saw in New York. The excesses committed in the name of 'mutant supremacy'." That was not to say that Jean-Phillipe was any less radical when it came to the plight of mutants, but he'd discovered a distaste for the more militant aspect of things.

"Not a completely hopeless case, then. Even if you were stupid enough to take up with that madman in the first place, you did not mistake the party line for reality." The words were harsh, but Jean-Paul's tone remained conversational, almost pleasant. "Which means that your life here will suck for a time, but you can at least still redeem yourself."

The conversational way the man he had idolized was cutting him apart was almost worse, and tears burned in the corners of Jean-Phillipe's eyes. He swallowed heavily and gazed out the window, not trusting his voice to not crack if he said anything in reply.

Now, Jean-Paul did approach, hands in pockets. "You cannot stay in here forever. Eventually, you will run out of cigarettes. So what then?"

~What do you care?~ Jean-Phillipe nearly snapped at Jean-Paul but held himself back. He shrugged instead. "Go purchase some more." Yes, he was being obtuse.

"That seems a waste, if being the wraith of the school will be the rest of your life."

This time, Jean-Phillipe did snap. "What do you care?" he sneered. "You were the one saying killing me would not be justifiable, which means you considered it for at least a moment."

"Actually, no. I considered hitting you and walking out, but then, I have bit more emotional distance from what happened to Wisdom and the others than most." He shrugged. "Perhaps that is not a good thing. At any rate, I would still not blame any of those who had their family and teammates ripped apart by Magneto's lackey's for wanting to to treat the nearest associated target in kind. As for why I care...that is a good question. You're not the only young man to have ever been stupid, I suppose."

Jean-Phillipe snorted. Yes, it was terribly typecast of him to think that nobody had ever been stupid like him, that nobody had ever felt this way before. He didn't care.

"As you like. The invitation for tonight is still open, if you run out of cigarettes." Jean-Paul headed for the door.