Scott and Jean-Paul (+ Johnny and the Stepfords), Friday evening

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott catches up with Jean-Paul upon his return, but serial eavesdropping creates a complication in Jean-Paul's plans to gloss over the reasons for his absence.


"You've found me out."

Jean-Paul offered Scott a faint smile from his seat on the dock. He was technically home, he supposed, but he hadn't gone inside for longer than it had taken to feed the rats and drop off his luggage. There were too many people inside. True, the population of the Muir Island center was comparable, but here he was expected to talk to people other than Nate. Possibly answer questions, and he wasn't feeling up to any more lies at the moment.

"I have spies everywhere," Scott said, raising an eyebrow. "Rachel didn't come back with you, right?" He glanced in the direction of the boathouse. "I think Jean has been looking at her and Valentia and getting ideas again."

"That would be good for Valentia, I think, but not so much for Nathan's peace of mind." Jean-Paul rose to his feet. "I see the school did not burn down in my absence. I suppose that means finals are still on."

"Never mind Nathan's peace - I'm worried that we're going to be having the 'there are certain things that people get married to do' talk again, with all these cute moppets running around," Scott said, more flippantly than he really intended. He wasn't precisely immune to the cute moppets himself.

Jean-Paul swallowed a laugh. "And here I thought we were talking playdates. But no, you are safe on that front. The only things I brought back from Muir are one past-his-prime merc and my weight in old books."

The almost-laugh was a good thing, Scott thought. "So how are you doing?" he asked, moving farther down the dock and eyeing the water. Wouldn't be too much longer until they were able to swim in it again.

Jean-Paul ran his fingers back through his hair with a sigh, shifting restlessly. "Better. I needed the breathing space." A pause. "Do you mind if we walk?"

"Sure." Scott waited until they'd gotten off the dock before he went on. "Muir is good for getting space. I actually indulged myself, a few times, back in the day."

"Space to breathe, space to think." Jean-Paul lapsed into silence for a bit, until they'd reached the relative privacy of a wooded area. "I thought it over while I was gone. Seeing a shrink would not be the worst thing in the world. I am probably overdue anyway."

"I'm all in favor of shrinks. Jack Leary helped me put myself back together after one of those stereotypical unfortunate experiences." Scott's glance slid sideways to Jean-Paul. "He's also pretty good at helping you deal with the underlying stuff you might have been avoiding dealing with for a while. Not that either of us has or had any of that..."

"I am typically not. If I were still on my own, this would not even be an option worth considering, you understand." He let the rest of the implication hang; there was no need to belabor that point, was there?

"As for the rest of my...issues, I think dealing with decapitating a man with my own hands is enough to start with. From what people more accustomed to a normal life have told me, killing another person alone should be enough to keep a patient on the couch for years. Maybe...once I have this under control I can work on unearthing the rest of it. Juggling it all at once...I do not think I would cope very well at all." A soft, bitter laugh. "They would be calling for the men with their needles and straight-jackets before the first session was done."

"One step at a time," Scott agreed quietly.

"No guarantee that it will not happen anyway. Perhaps I will talk for a bit and then be informed that I am a raving madman and it runs in families, was I not aware?"

Scott rolled his eye, then poked Jean-Paul in the shoulder (lightly). "I may not be able to effect a sudden telekinetic trajectory into the lake, but I do know a redhead who will do all kinds of favors in return for... well, let's not go there."

Jean-Paul snorted and aimed a swat at Scott's hand. It missed by a mile, as intended. "And here I thought you were trying to avoid the idea of children. Think of what a subtle TK tweak could do to the structural integrity of a condom."

Scott tried not to choke, a smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you for being so oblique. Seriously. I almost didn't get the mental image there."

"And you are among the people I like. Imagine the bullshit I put Hudson through." Jean-Paul smirked, then glanced back toward the main building. "I should probably go eat something. I threw my system off back in Quebec."

"I missed lunch myself," Scott said. "Want some company?" He wasn't sure if Jean-Paul was prepared to talk any more about what had happened, or if he would want to, but he wanted to make sure the opportunity was there.

"I left you to deal with my classes for three days. I think a meal would be reasonable compensation." The two men headed toward the school.

Eavesdropping had not been the boy’s intention, but by the time he had noticed the men approaching and heard their somber words, it had been too late to do anything but keep his mouth shut. Johnny watched Scott and Jean-Paul depart through the leaves that enveloped his perch, making vain attempts to wrap his mind around what he had heard. Mr. Beaubier had…killed somebody?

He shook his head. It didn’t make sense. The man had told him just that afternoon that he was fine. He had seemed fine. The white-haired teen remained still for a long while, only descending from the tree once he was certain they had gone, the motion more clumsy and haphazardly quick than he had intended. He made his way back up toward the mansion, for once very glad that he did not have a roommate.

"And what are you doing, little white-haired boy?" There were three of the Stepfords, sitting in the backyard, poring over what appeared to be a psychology textbook. The one who'd spoken eyed him, then tilted her head. "You seem so disturbed."

Johnny couldn’t even think to collect his expression as he looked toward the source of the unfamiliar voice. He didn’t recognize the three girls or the single face they shared, but something about them just made him want to move faster. He forced himself to remain still and shook his head, "...I'm fine."

"No, you're not," another said thoughtfully. "You're really not. You're really quite-"

"-perturbed," the third concluded. "It's a particular kind of perturbed, too. Like you just found out something-"

"-you wish you could un-know. If we were kinder, we would offer to-"

"-take it away for you, but the Professor-" and the Stepford's voices came in derisive unison on that one word before the second blonde continued on her own, "-would have us in his office for tea and finger-wagging. And we find that-"

"-very tedious. So maybe we'll just tell you to be on your way, and thank you." The same bright, malicious smile grew on all three pretty faces.

Johnny’s eyes moved between the identical faces as they began and continued and finished one another’s sentences, a small shudder creeping up into his shoulders. Their cold eyes made him feel transparent and their words only seemed to solidify the sensation. Who were these girls? “…Thank me?”

"We were very bored, you see," one confessed, waving a hand at this book. "We were trying to understand how-"

"-your minds worked. Because you're very different than us, you know. With all your individual-"

"-quirks. But you've given us a lovely idea for a-"

"-social experiment. And it's so rare that any of you are-"

"-interesting. So, shoo!" The blondes flicked their fingers at him in unison. "Don't ruin the moment."

He didn't understand. Perhaps if he had not been so thoroughly shaken already, Johnny would have pressed the point. But he was and the idea of continued conversation with these three was enough to knot his stomach. Besides, he had a distinct notion that no question in the world would get a straight answer out of the grinning trio. Their sharp gesture seemed to push him into turning and the teen returned mutely to his original path.