Scott and Jean-Paul

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

Scott gets word that the school was nearly short a staff member and goes to check on things.



"You know, remind me not to make any further suggestions regarding you talking to volatile young woman." Scott's tone was conversational enough, but there was a suspicious tightness to his jaw as he came in and sat down beside Jean-Paul's bed. "Clearly it is not your forte."

"You think the third time would be the charm for getting that through my head." Jean-Paul didn't quite manage to keep his wince under his skin. Still, it was good to feel both sides of his face again, at least; the left side had been all pins-and-needles for a time after he'd woken up. "But I suppose I never knew when to quit." His stomach told him it was a bad idea to sit up, but he managed. "Désolé. I pushed her too hard."

"So she snapped and hit you?" Scott asked, not quite curtly.

It was that tone that drew Jean-Paul's attention long enough to block the automatic affirmative that headed for his lips.

"One moment she was looking away and I was about to speak again. The next I was waking up here. I assume that is what happened. She was upset, Scott."

Scott's expression tightened even further. "I'm glad you're all right," he said shortly. "I suppose if nothing else, this hammers home how important it is that she learns control."

Jean-Paul lay down again as a bubble of nausea tried to rise in his gut. This conversation would not be improved by losing his lunch. "I know I screwed up. It is not going to kill me if you say it."

"Yes, because I make a habit of beating the bedridden over the head with the unintended consequences of situations I contributed to. Because that's fair." Scott sighed and slouched in his chair. "You scared the hell out of Jean."

"Considering that I stopped just short of 'pretty please, good sir, let me talk to the poor, troubled runaway', I don't think there's much blame to be placed at your feet in this," Jean-Paul pointed out. "And I think I scared the hell out of Cammie as well. An excellent showing all around on my part."

Scott rubbed at his temples, then sighed again. "This is why the uber-telepath is the headmaster now. I say we dump the whole mess on him and flee."

"The legal part of it, he is welcome to. I don't know that there is much we can do about that anyway. As for Cammie...I don't know how much I can do for her either, but I am still willing to try." Jean-Paul snorted softly. "Even if I am apparently the only Canadian in the place that her powers work on."

"Under the assumption that she's not going to poison you twice?" Scott asked, not quite wryly.

"You wound me, Scott, you truly do." Jean-Paul smiled weakly. "That you think I've learned so little. I'll just be better prepared to dodge the next time." He scratched absent-mindedly at the irritated patch of skin where Cammie's fist had made contact.

"You know, with all the structural damage and personal injury I brought about while I was manifesting, I ought to be a better candidate for talking to kids like Cammie than I am. I just can't banish the impulse to shake them in situations like this. An accident is one thing. Losing your temper when you know you're lethal is another."

Jean-Paul hesitated a moment, looking away. "Self-reliance is a hard habit to break, especially when it's a matter of survival, not preference. The idea that someone else can know anything of what you've been through is usually somewhere between terrifying and insulting rather than a comfort. Words bounce off or register as more of the same bullshit. So..." The speedster finally looked up at Scott again. "It takes a while sometimes. It is not as if I'm going anywhere, and I have time."

Scott's eyes had narrowed. "So long as you have a realistic hope of success - or at least, of no repeat poisonings. We have enough people around here who tilt at windmills."

Jean-Paul ducked his head slightly; more than anything, he found the entire situation embarrassing. Poisoned was not nearly so big an issue as having been too caught up in trying to make the girl listen to avoid a punch.

"Understood. It will not happen again."

Why had this conversation turned into the equivalent of him giving orders? And why was Jean-Paul taking them? Scott shook his head quizzically. "I should sic some of your more devoted students on you," he said, or threatened. "I'm sure Callie would wait on you hand and foot."

"Well, if you want the non-poisonous residents to have their chance at hitting me too, do try it." The very idea was...no. "I am not an easy patient. Better to let me sleep it off on my own."

"True. Setting the students on you is unnecessary, anyway. You get Amelia minding you," Scott said with a too-grave face, "and that's about the worst punishment I could imagine."

One factor in why Jean-Paul was being so cooperative with orders was making itself plain; he was exhausted, sick, and drifting off in mid-snark.

"When I make my daring escape, I am coming after you first," he mumbled, eyes closing.