Jay, Nathan, and Jean-Paul

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

The day after Pride, Jay wanders down to the medlab to visit. He has a bad encounter with Nathan and worse one with Jean-Paul.



Clutching various Pride necklaces in hand, Jay paraded down the hallway with the same necklaces bouncing from his own neck as he pushed up the sunglasses, pulling back his rainbow dyed hair in search for a tall, dark and handsome yet broken man.

All he got, instead, was Nathan.

"Jean-Paul here?" he asked and without a moment's hesitation, his wings slipped out silently on their own accord, rippling with an anxiety he felt whenever he was under the hard gaze of the older man.

Nathan's eyes, if anything, grew colder. He'd sensed Jay coming - a little more sleep and some help from Charles had improved his shields, but they were still in shoddy shape. "Jean-Paul is here," he said, slowly. "Here. In isolation. Not up for visitors.

He held up the necklaces as if that was his pass to see the older man. "Ah wanna give him his necklaces," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, doing his best to stay neutral and keep his impulses on low. His knuckles whitened to the tight grip he held on the items, shaking them and making noise. "Gay Pride? He missed it. Ah wanna see him please. Only for a second."

Nathan's nostrils flared. "You want to give him... his necklaces." The volume of his voice didn't rise in the slightest, nor did his tone sharpen, particularly. But there was an edge in it that spoke volumes.

Jay wasn't sure what he did to piss Nathan off but never did they cross paths well. Fists situated on his hips as he stared back at the older man, gripping as much patience as he could get, though his wings were clearly not going anywhere. If anything, they loomed over Jay and seemed to tighten at the warning in Nathan's voice.

"So can Ah see him?" he asked, barely able to keep the tremor from his voice.

Jean-Paul's voice floated out from the observation area, hoarse, tired, and wrapped in the mechanical echo of the quarantine cell's speaker.

"Nathan? Who is out there?"

The look Nathan gave Jay could have burned a hole through solid steel. But his head turned in the direction of the quarantine area, reluctantly. Being protective was one thing. Depriving Jean-Paul of the power to make decisions for himself now that he knew someone was here was another.

"Jay Guthrie," he called back in a more moderate tone.

A long pause. "Let me see him." The request was quiet and anything but eager, but there it was.

Nathan straightened. "I'll be down the hall. Need some coffee," he called back, and then stared back down at Jay. #If you upset him,# his voice growled in Jay's head, #... bad things, Guthrie.# He stepped out of Jay's way and headed toward the coffeemaker, not looking back.

#Asshole.#

Jay watched him pass and resisted the impulse to twitch a wing out and knock Nathan out with a metal joint to the head. Every inch of him was laced with tension, nothing he could shake before he went to see Jean-Paul, therefore he had to plaster on the fakest smile he'd had since he walked through the door.

"Hey," he said, jingling the necklaces in hand. "Ah let you leave and skip Gay Pride n' you get all banged up? What gives?"

Jean-Paul was sitting on a bed in one of the medlab's quarantine cells, clad in Xavier greys, a dark spot in the pristine room. His hair hung in a lank veil around his face; he hadn't shaved in several days. He flinched at the sight of Jay, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Dead boys in stereo, red wings and silver blades, fragile bones and ripped, bleeding sharkskin...it was disorienting on top of horrific.

'Answers your questions, doesn't it?' he thought, despair bitter enough that he could taste it rising in the back of his throat.

It seemed to take a lot of effort to lift his head and look at Jay.

"Do not worry. It will not happen again."

His skin tingled, pricking up his arms and he felt it right down the length of his spine to the core of his wings. Well that's weird, he shivered inwardly and couldn't pin-point what was weird about it, only that it was an odd sensation, a vibe he got from being here within and his wings did nothing but draw back, rigid and menacing.

He knew that isolation well, very well and yet he looked at the keypad on the door, as though his own sight would give away the combination. He chewed the inside of his cheek, contemplating what to say until he blew his bangs out of his eyes, trying to shrug off how bad this was if they were locking him up.

"Is this you or them?" he asked, wondering if this was by choice or by necessity.

"Mutual agreement." He rose to his feet, coming over to the speaker set in the front of the cell once more so that they could speak more clearly. "What are you doing down here?"

"Seein' you," he said as though it was the most obvious answer in the world and held up his pride possessions, shaking them. "Necklaces for you. Shiney huh?" he looked down at them, and pulled out a blue one that was laced with blue plastic dice. "Ah like this one personally - it's the best one, but Ah thought you'd like it." His hand brushed the clear wall between them and he held it up, palm flat against it with the necklace weaving through his fingers. "Nice huh?"

"Nice." There wasn't any actual agreement there, just a tired echo. "Hold on to it for me. I am going to stay in here for another couple of days. To make sure nothing breaks."

"To make sure you don't break," he supplied. "What happened? Shiro said you was down here but he didn't say how bad."

"To make sure I do not break anything." Or anyone. The idea made him flinch again. "I spent a bad week with a telepath who liked running scalpels through my mind. It will be a while healing."

He thought to point out that Jean-Paul was friends with a telepath but knew better. The fact that Nathan was lingering around made Jay wonder how much he was poking around in his head, how much poking around in Jean-Paul's head Nathan did but instead, chewed on his cheek before he spoke. The necklace was balled up in his fist as his hand dropped away and he rubbed his neck with it, scratching at it.

"Gonna be a lotta bad sleeps," he said, a sort of understanding settling over him. His shoulders dropped. "Oh -- here," Jay hunched over to pull a wrinkled picture from his pocket and turned it around, flat so Jean-Paul could see. It was a picture of Shiro sandwiched between his rainbow self and a glittery dolled-up Clarice. "Brought you this too. Sorry about how it looks. Ah sorta washed it by accident."

Jean-Paul stared at the picture for a few moments. Context kept escaping him. He remembered trying to kill Jay and Clarice. Three deaths for two people. False memories. But not for the third...those were real. He'd tried to kill Shiro. Monet. Jean. Nathan. The world went dark for a moment, but when it cleared up again, his hand hurt. The skin over his knuckles was split and there was a short, thin smear of red over the clear observation glass of the cell.

"Josh...Jay..." His voice was tight, strangled. "I need you to leave. Right now."

The change was immediate. Jay's chest tightened and his lips parted and he brushed a hand over his face, dropping the picture. He stepped back from the observation glass and stuttered with his stumble. "S-s-sorry." As if an apology would do anything at all, but he still said it and it was all he could do but turn and promptly leave the room, tips of his metal wings scrapping the frame on his way out. Whatever happened to Jean-Paul, Jay knew he couldn't be a part of his recovery.