Callie and Jean-Paul, Nathan and Jean-Paul

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

Callie stops by to welcome Jean-Paul back to the school and lets him know about the rumors floating around.



Home sweet home indeed, so long as you had a deep love for schoolwork. Jean-Paul sat on his couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a stack of student drafts lying against his legs, and a red pen in one hand. There were some good ideas, some good ideas that needed polishing, and some ideas that needed to be stepped on before they bred, but at least it was fairly interesting to see how the children were filtering the information from the semester.

If she hadn't been covered in dirt and sweat when she heard of her English teacher's arrival Callie would have rushed over to see him right away. She had yet to properly thank him for letting her stay in his room while she was hiding from Monkey Joe, and she also needed to wish him a Happy Easter. Well, and there were the rumors that the Stepfords were spreading, although knowing those girls Callie was less than inclined to believe them. So she pushed the thought from her mind as she made her way up to Jean-Paul's room, clean and with chocolate in hand. "Mister Beaubier," she called with a polite knock at the door. "I come bearing chocolate."

In a moment, the papers were on the desk and Jean-Paul was at the door. "Normally I would be wary of students bearing gifts as finals draw near," he said as he opened it, "but there is precedent in your case." He was as dressed-down as he got, barefoot in comfortable jeans and a Great Big Sea t-shirt. "Ca va, Callie? How are things going with the new girl?"

Callie's smile broadened as she held out the tiny basket filled with Baci as well as a few chocolate bars. "I couldn't remember which type you liked," she explained. "And dad gave me more than enough. If I were to eat them all I would gain like twenty pounds. And things are going well, I bought Monkey Joe a cat bed to sleep on..." Peeping around her teacher and into the room she could see the pile of papers on his desk. "You haven't graded mine already yet have you? I feel I should apologize, it's not very good."

"No grades yet, do not worry. Just suggestions. Besides, I cannot be too hard on all of you -- I did vanish before you could turn in your drafts. I promise, I am being a merciful evil overlord." He gave Callie a quick, one-armed hug once her hands were free. "I am glad that your time with your father went so well. It sounds as if it was very relaxing."

She remained tense even as she returned the hug. She wasn't confident in this paper, at all, she knew she could have done much better. "Yeah, it was really fun. We went to mass and went to the Botanical Gardens, and wandered around." Callie lazily leaned against the wall, gardening was hard work. "How was your trip?"

"Productive. I picked up your reading list for the next term. You did see the pictures Nathan posted, oui?" The speedster grinned impishly, then retreated to the kitchen. "I enjoyed Muir quite a bit. It was a change of pace. Certainly not where I thought I would find myself the next time I was in Europe, but that is not a bad thing."

Callie wasn't quite sure if he was joking or not about the book list, but knowing the Quebecois she wouldn't put it past him. Of course she didn't quite have the heart to tell him that she was planning on completing her final year of high school at community college. Which of course would mean she wouldn't be in his class. "Just Muir then? That's good. The Stepfords were wrong then."

"I had some personal matters to attend to before then." Jean-Paul tilted his head, curious. "What do those girls have to do with my trip?"

She waved her hand as if to fling the matter away. "They just came up with some crazy explanation." Well crazy enough to seem so, but not enough to keep Callie from actually starting to believe it. After all, they didn't really know that much about their teacher, and with the lot at the school it wasn't surprising.

The fresh tension in Jean-Paul's stance was hard to miss. Rumors spread by telepaths were given more weight than the standard schoolyard gossip. "What are they saying?"

With a scratch of her neck, Callie replied with, "They're saying that you killed someone?"

"Are they?" Any hint of ease or playfulness had completely fled Jean-Paul's demeanor, and his gaze was stormy. "That is unfortunate. You will have to excuse me, Callie. I have some matters that need attending to."

Later, Nate finds Jean-Paul in the gym, wrecking equipment in place of blonde telepaths.



The Stepfords either had exceptionally fortuitous timing, or had made themselves scarce in the wake of being discovered -- either was equally likely for telepaths.

'Or perhaps they're simply masked from detection and having another good laugh at your expense.'

Jean-Paul slammed a fists into the heavy bag again and again, watching almost dispassionately as it disintegrated into sand and canvas under a rain of inhumanly fast blows, and finally staggered back, dripping sweat. He didn't have any illusions about getting himself under control, but if he kept at it, he could vent and collapse before he did something extraordinarily stupid.

"Whose face is on the bag?" came a familiar voice from the doorway of the gym. There was both concern and caution in Nathan's eyes as he came in, studying the damage. "Or was, rather."

The speedster's head snapped up, the glare he fixed on Nathan half anger and half suspicion before he managed to shake himself out of it.

"Students this time," he responded dully. "Apparently the Stepford girls have been traipsing around inside my head and spreading the details of my absence among the other students."

Nathan's eyes narrowed with a speed that was more than a little ominous. "One of these days," he muttered, then shook his head, setting aside his anger for the time being. "So why are you down here destroying the heavy bag?" He pretty much knew the answer to the question, but he had a sense that getting Jean-Paul to vocalize it might be a good idea. Turning these things inward was never a good thing.

"Because I have not been able to locate the girls in question yet," was the growled answer. "And even if I did, so what do I do? Ground them? Lecture them on ethics? I would be wasting my breath and it certainly will not take back the ideas they have planted. I had the new girl, Doreen, in yesterday, to talk about finals. She kept looking at me as if I were going to take her head off and hide her body under the floorboards. I suppose I know why now."

"You need to talk to Charles," Nathan advised. "At least about them. I'm not as sure of a solution for the rest of it," he admitted unhappily, sitting down on a nearby bench. He knew how much teaching meant to his friend, and how hard it would be to see students actually afraid of him.

Jean-Paul looked as if he wanted to throw another punch into the wreckage of the bag.

"I have done this before. I know the solution. I simply detest it." He turned on his heel, stalking toward the wall. Sand crunched under his feet as he paced. "Letting the rumors continue is not an option. So unless I feel like having the same conversation with every student here, I need to make a public statement and be done with it."

"I can't necessarily disagree," Nathan said after a moment, choosing his words with care. "And this is a school where the vast majority of the student body is used to their teachers having to do violent things from time to time."

"And then go through the joyous ritual of having everyone -- student, staff, and other -- put in their two cents. Though I suppose I should be grateful, hm? At least this time, the 'public' only numbers a few dozen people." People he worked with on a near-daily basis.

The strike was fast, but not inhuman. Jean-Paul's fist rebounded off of the wall with a hollow 'thud', and the pain that reverberated up along his arm did more to clear his head than tearing down half a dozen punching bags could have.

"I just...really hate this part," he hissed.

Nathan rose, coming over. "If you start hurting yourself," he said, reaching out and taking Jean-Paul's hand, to take a look at it, "I'm going to cart you out to the lake and dump you in. That's not an idle threat."

"I am not planning to break my hand," was the dry reassurance. "I need it for hitting things." He thought about adding a remark about his cutting days being long past, but he didn't think that Nate would appreciate the not-quite-a-joke at the moment. "And if I were going to be passionate enough to sacrifice body parts, it would not be for a set of blondes. So no laking yet. Save it for next Christmas." If he kept talking, it was that much easier to bury that stupid moment of lost self-control.

Divert, divert, Nathan thought with a grim sort of humor. "I'll save it for the quartet of evil. I think a laking would improve their temperament to no end."

"Mmm." Jean-Paul flexed his hand a few times for Nate's benefit before lowering it to his side again. "Multiple lakings. Possibly at very unkind speeds. On top of whatever the Professor recommends."

"You realize it's entirely possible that they weren't targeting you, with this - they generally don't challenge authority figures directly. More likely they were trying to play nasty games with the students -and yes, I know that's not an improvement," Nathan said, satisfying himself that Jean-Paul hadn't actually done any damage to himself. "If they smell weakness, and all."

"Using me to harm my students is worse," Jean-Paul said bluntly. "It is better for them if I think of this as particularly petty payback for the last paper they turned in. At least then I can pretend to be objective until they graduate this summer." He sighed. "It would be a very bad idea to make that announcement now, I think."

"When you're in this mood? Yes, definitely. And you should talk to Charles before you do anything," Nathan said, stressing the key point there quite deliberately. "He's the one who's ultimately responsible for them - technically I think he is their guardian."

Jean-Paul nodded in acknowledgment, then straightened and went to clean up the mess he'd left hanging over the mats.

"You have very good timing."

"Telepaths can do their shameless eavesdropping for good, you know." The sand and leather fragments started to move together into neat piles. "Listen," Nathan said after a moment, more quietly. "I hate that you have to do this."

Jean-Paul hesitated, then decided to take the remark at face value.

"That makes two of us." A moment of quiet. "But I am glad that you understand why this is so hateful. Why it is so badly snarled."

Nathan sighed. "I know how you were hoping this would go, once you got back. And I know that this isn't it. I'll just hope it goes better than you expect, because frankly, at this point, you deserve a little good luck." The laugh that slipped out was short and had nothing at all amused about it.

Which made it all the odder that Jean-Paul's echoing laugh seemed almost genuine, as he hovered up to unhook the bag.

"I am sure I used up all of my good luck just surviving to twenty-one. I will settle for just having good days."