Jean-Paul, Nathan and Johnny

[x-ricochet.livejournal.com]

Johnny sneaks into the medlab to see Jean-Paul for himself and is shaken by what he finds. Nathan gives him a target for his frustrations.



Getting into the medlab hadn't been as difficult as he'd expected. It was late and even Xavier's could find a fleeting calm during these hours. But somehow, the stillness just made him uneasy. Johnny swallowed, continuing his way down a quiet hall in search of his friend and teacher. There really hadn't been much choice. They had said Jean-Paul was recovering, but that was all they would say and he needed more. Or to see the man back safe and sound for himself.

None of the standard rooms had yielded any success in his search, only made and vacant beds. The further into the facility he went, the more foreign it became, with no sign of the older mutant and his anxiety slipping from muscle to muscle until his whole body felt tight. Where was he?

Finally, he came to the quarantine cells, sterile and white and boxed in with sturdy transparent fronts. And one, he noticed, with its light casting long shadows out into the hall that ran between them. He hurried immediately forward, features lighting thoughtlessly up at the sight of Jean-Paul. To consider why the man might be here didn't even occur in the midst of the sudden relief that swept over the teen. "Mr. Beaubier!" The man was worn and sat on the edge of his bed with slumped shoulders and elbows resting loosely on his knees. It was uncharacteristic, but he seemed to be in one piece.

Johnny fumbled his slim fingers across the buttons below the speaker that was embedded in the front of the cell until he found the right one, venturing more quietly and not wishing to startle the man, "Mr. Beaubier?"

The older mutant glanced up, but there was no more recognition in his dull gaze than there would have been in that of a strange cat. There wasn't even curiosity. After a moment, he looked away again, then rolled onto his bed, presenting the young man with his back.

The relief was gone. The way the man had looked at him, almost through him, left him feeling hollow. Johnny kept his fingertip pressed firm against the button as confusion, edged with panic, crept into his suddenly small voice, "...Jean-Paul?"

No response from the figure in the cell, except a slight shift to rest his head more comfortably on the pillow.

"Say something! Please..." There was no response and the teen's fingers slipped down from the intercom, his hand lingering pressed against the clear surface of the enclosure. He didn't understand this and all he could do was watch the man in stunned silence as his hopes continued to sink, forming a lump in his throat he wasn't even sure he could speak around anymore. Something was wrong.

A hundred thoughts seemed to come and go at once: groundless guesses for how he had ended up this way, fears that there would be no recovery at all, perhaps even a smaller, more personal and far more irrational fear that, regardless of his current state, he had done something to earn the cold gaze and no recovery would change that. His eyes were wet before he realized it and he turned, sprinting back down the hall he'd come up with no regard for the broken silence of the lab. He needed to find Jean. Somebody. Or, if nothing else, just get away from that disinterested gaze that made him feel utterly abandoned.

He ran, quite literally, into Nathan, who reached out to steady the boy before he could wind up on the floor. "Hey," he said, trying for a gentle tone. It came out sounding simply tired. "Easy, Johnny." What had set him running was perfectly obvious, sitting there at the top of his mind, and Nathan frowned. "You shouldn't have been down here," he said, not harshly.

Though the blow wasn't a particularly hard one, it left the boy's head reeling, the sixth sense that had sparked to the life at the base of his skull just moments before lingering and making him dizzy. "You wouldn't tell us anything. I was worried..." Johnny trailed off, the excuses seeming pointedly unimportant. He shook his head and looked up at Nathan, demanding in a voice that was far from strong, "What's wrong with him? What happened to him?"

"Not in here," Nathan said quietly, steering him out of the infirmary and to the nearest stairwell. He sat down on the stairs himself, watching Johnny. Trying to think of what to say. "Someone hurt him," he finally said, his voice still low. "Very badly. Whatever you saw when you were in there with him - you shouldn't take it as a reaction to you. He's not responsive right now."

Johnny gave no protest, allowing Nathan to lead him out and trying to steady himself against this foreign feeling of disorientation with little success. The man sat, but he remained on his feet, shifting silently and waiting for him to explain and not even bothering to wipe the faint dampness from his eyes. Someone hurt him. Very badly. His eyes dropped and he felt rigid. Jean-Paul was strong. Whatever the man had been put through to leave him like this...he couldn't even imagine it. "How did this happen? He said it was just Elpis work. Routine stuff. So why did this happen? Who did this?"

Nathan took a deep breath, then let it out again. "We were attacked," he said, "on the way back out of Moldova." He faltered, but managed to keep his expression calm. He hadn't precisely been discussing this with anyone who didn't already know what had happened.

Johnny wasn't accustomed to this idea, which seemed so simple and so impossible in the same moment. He was quiet, his mood rising from that an awful, stagnant worry for his friend to something he couldn't quite place and which caused him to clench his hands into tight fists at this sides. He waited for Nathan to continue.

"The people who attacked us took him," Nathan finally said, his voice steady. "They had him for a few days. It was long enough for them to do a lot of damage."

Those small, light fists trembled against Johnny's side and he finally looked at the older man again, something brimming behind his bright eyes which seemed out of place and painful. The pulsing of his additional sense had faded, but anger had settled in its place, conjuring a hatred for people and situations he did not know or understand. He swallowed hard. "Why...would they do that to him?"

Nathan watched him, all too aware of what was taking shape in his mind. He was quiet for a long moment, considering the situation. This was going to be impossibly hard for Johnny as it was. Having to deal with it as something that was senseless, something that had happened for no reason at all - it wasn't fair, not when that was so far from the truth.

It would be easier if he had a target. Somewhere to direct all that anger, instead of trying to turn it inwards. He had gotten the sense that Johnny was far too good at repressing what he felt. And this sort of anger festered. Nathan knew that much, all too well.

"Because of me," he said quietly. "They were after me and took him instead." He didn't break eye contact with Johnny. "I knew there was a risk, but I thought we'd been sufficiently careful. I was wrong, and he wound up getting hurt."

If for only a moment, the anger ebbed, leaving a numb shock on Johnny's face. "Because of you...?" he repeated back very quietly. The tactic worked flawlessly, the heady, weighted feeling rushing back into him as disbelief and sudden hostility contorted his features, "How could you let them do that to him?! You're supposed to be his friend...!"

"I am his friend." The tightness in his chest thankfully wasn't reflected in his voice, and he went on, just as steadily. "I would have done anything to stop it from happening, but I couldn't."

Perhaps some rational part of him accepted, and knew, that Nathan would have protected Jean-Paul if he could. But in this shaken state of distress that part was not in any sort of control over him and he held tight to the blame the older man had offered. He looked purposefully away. "...If you were, you wouldn't have put him in danger like that to begin with." The accusation hung in air between them a moment before he forced quietly, "What's going to happen? Is he going to be okay?"

Nathan rose, slowly, his expression still very calm. As if Johnny's all-too-true words hadn't hurt at all. "The Professor and Doctor Grey," he said, more slowly, "are very good at what they do, and they're going to do their best to help him." He swallowed, moving a little closer to the boy. "He's going to need time, and the people who care about him."

So none of them knew how this would end. Not really. And they had kept that to themselves too. Johnny tried to focus on Jean-Paul and not the sudden urge to push the older man away from him or retreat back himself. When he spoke, he did so quietly but with obvious tension under his voice, "...I'll do whatever I can to help."

"I know you will," Nathan said softly, unable to quite keep the pain out of his voice. "I'm so sorry, Johnny. But we have to believe he's going to pull through this. He needs us to." The urge to try and offer some sort of comfort was so overwhelming that he caught himself reaching out to lay a hand on Johnny's shoulder without really making the decision to do so.

The words felt strangely hollow with Nathan's struggling voice attached to them, but Johnny nodded stiffly just the same. He would do his best to convince himself of the uncertain fact and he would make sure he did all he could and none of that had anything to do with the man in front of him. He saw the hand reaching for his shoulder, his reflexes allowing his arm to snap out and knock it sharply away. He didn't want it. Not from him. "Don't."

Can't have it both ways, Dayspring. He couldn't offer comfort and a target. Nathan just nodded, squaring his shoulders. "He's not really up to visitors right now," he said quietly, "but when he is, I'll make sure Jean knows she should tell you."

The meaningless victory won, Johnny lowered his hand, suddenly feeling very tired. "I can still come by and check in, right? Even if he can't see anybody."

"I'm sure Jean or Dr. Voght will be okay with that," Nathan said, unable to keep the tiredness out of his voice. "Just... no more sneaking in, okay?"

"Okay," Johnny agreed somewhat reluctantly. As miserable as this venture had been, he wasn't in the dark anymore and he supposed that was a good thing. He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a few paces toward the steps that Nathan had been sitting on and which would take him back upstairs. He paused, looking back and offering, "...You should get some rest. You look beat. Won't be much help for Mr. Beaubier or anybody else if you push yourself too hard." Even he wasn't sure if it was a minute olive branch or an honest suggestion. Maybe it was just an attempt to justify his own intention of sleep as soon as he could find a suitable place.

"Right," Nathan said, more softly. "Take care, Johnny."