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xp_logs2009-07-03 08:07 am
x-ricochet.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2009-07-03 08:07 am
Jean-Paul and Johnny
Jean-Paul encounters unexpected company when he leaves the medlab.
The barrage of terrible images in Jean-Paul's mind had slowed to a trickle. The contrast was almost enough to make him feel giddy; these he could brace himself against, distract himself from. He couldn't stop them...but he could believe he could cope, at least. He felt as if he could sleep for a century. Or at least a few hours without waking from nightmares. An eternity.
All he had to do was get back to his own bed. Jean-Paul was very tempted to simply lie back down in quarantine, but he had spent far too much time here already and the associations were not pleasant. Nathan was conferring with Jean; it only took a thought in his direction to let him know where he was headed. He might even shower before he slept. He smelled like three days of cold sweats.
Jean-Paul was nearly out of the medlab when he all but tripped over the boy on his way in.
The slim boy hurrying into the medlab hadn't intended to make such an obstacle of himself, but his restless thoughts had distracted him enough to mute the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. A full collision was avoided only by an anxious sixth sense and quick reflexes, though he yelped awkwardly and moved to help steady the older man immediately. Recognition came a few moments later, Johnny's bright eyes going wide as he looked up at Jean-Paul though unkempt white hair, "Mr. Beaubier...?"
His lips broke into a thin, relieved smile and he almost toppled the older mutant a second time with a sudden, tight hug.
Jean-Paul startled at the contact, his relief shrinking back as ghost-images of the boy clinging to him started to well up. He shook his head and, after a moment's pause, wrapped his arms around the boy in return. Under the falsehoods was a more solid memory, an uncertain, quavering voice pleading with him to say something.
"Hey," he said hoarsely. "What are you doing down here?"
The feeling of that uncertain jolt under his arms was sobering, a sharp reminder of what had been before, but it was not enough to make him let go. Johnny remained still, hesitant to move, especially as he felt the gesture being returned, as if raising his head might end it and lead to another locked gaze with hollow eyes.
It was the man's tired voice that coaxed him slowly from their shared posture and he forced himself to look Jean-Paul in the eyes, reassured by the recognition that existed there, even if he had clearly seen better days. "I came to check in. See if anything had changed. I...didn't know you'd be up." He wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve, uncertain if it was necessary until he saw the small, dark lines along the fabric, and his voice came out small. "...It's really good to see you."
"And to see you, now that I can. Before...it is hard to explain. Parts of me were awake, but...I did not know you were there." Jean-Paul kept a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady himself. It wouldn't do Johnny any good if he fell over while supposedly having made some progress in his recovery. "I am sorry for that."
Johnny tensed despite his efforts not to, his muscles growing tight under Jean-Paul's hand as he listened and tried to understand the explanation. It was like he'd been told and like he'd been telling himself ever since the previous weekend: it wasn't him, he hadn't been there. Except in a capacity to perceive and store the memory away as an extra burden he didn't deserve to carry. The teen shook his head, replying quietly, "...You don't need to apologize. It's not your fault." He watched the older man, unable to conceal the weakness in his body any better than the teenager could hide the rigidity in his. He touched the hand situated on his shoulder. "...Are you going back to your room? I can help you, if you want."
The offer brought up a half-dozen automatic denials -- he could make it on his own, Nathan would be right there to help, and so on. But he had not missed the tear stains on Johnny's sleeve, or the tightness of the boy's embrace. His pride was only worth so much, and the value of it had diminished greatly in the past few days anyway.
"I think I could use a hand, yes. I doubt I will keel over...but, you know, it is good to have someone to walk with me. Just in case."
Johnny nodded, grateful even for this small opportunity to be useful after so many days of restless waiting. He didn't move, waiting for Jean-Paul to adjust his hold and his stance of his own volition before they started down the familiar path to his room. It might take some time now, but the man seemed to be through the worst of things and now he could finally keep his promise to help. He offered his friend a faint smile, "And if you do, at least I have good reflexes?"
The barrage of terrible images in Jean-Paul's mind had slowed to a trickle. The contrast was almost enough to make him feel giddy; these he could brace himself against, distract himself from. He couldn't stop them...but he could believe he could cope, at least. He felt as if he could sleep for a century. Or at least a few hours without waking from nightmares. An eternity.
All he had to do was get back to his own bed. Jean-Paul was very tempted to simply lie back down in quarantine, but he had spent far too much time here already and the associations were not pleasant. Nathan was conferring with Jean; it only took a thought in his direction to let him know where he was headed. He might even shower before he slept. He smelled like three days of cold sweats.
Jean-Paul was nearly out of the medlab when he all but tripped over the boy on his way in.
The slim boy hurrying into the medlab hadn't intended to make such an obstacle of himself, but his restless thoughts had distracted him enough to mute the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. A full collision was avoided only by an anxious sixth sense and quick reflexes, though he yelped awkwardly and moved to help steady the older man immediately. Recognition came a few moments later, Johnny's bright eyes going wide as he looked up at Jean-Paul though unkempt white hair, "Mr. Beaubier...?"
His lips broke into a thin, relieved smile and he almost toppled the older mutant a second time with a sudden, tight hug.
Jean-Paul startled at the contact, his relief shrinking back as ghost-images of the boy clinging to him started to well up. He shook his head and, after a moment's pause, wrapped his arms around the boy in return. Under the falsehoods was a more solid memory, an uncertain, quavering voice pleading with him to say something.
"Hey," he said hoarsely. "What are you doing down here?"
The feeling of that uncertain jolt under his arms was sobering, a sharp reminder of what had been before, but it was not enough to make him let go. Johnny remained still, hesitant to move, especially as he felt the gesture being returned, as if raising his head might end it and lead to another locked gaze with hollow eyes.
It was the man's tired voice that coaxed him slowly from their shared posture and he forced himself to look Jean-Paul in the eyes, reassured by the recognition that existed there, even if he had clearly seen better days. "I came to check in. See if anything had changed. I...didn't know you'd be up." He wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve, uncertain if it was necessary until he saw the small, dark lines along the fabric, and his voice came out small. "...It's really good to see you."
"And to see you, now that I can. Before...it is hard to explain. Parts of me were awake, but...I did not know you were there." Jean-Paul kept a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady himself. It wouldn't do Johnny any good if he fell over while supposedly having made some progress in his recovery. "I am sorry for that."
Johnny tensed despite his efforts not to, his muscles growing tight under Jean-Paul's hand as he listened and tried to understand the explanation. It was like he'd been told and like he'd been telling himself ever since the previous weekend: it wasn't him, he hadn't been there. Except in a capacity to perceive and store the memory away as an extra burden he didn't deserve to carry. The teen shook his head, replying quietly, "...You don't need to apologize. It's not your fault." He watched the older man, unable to conceal the weakness in his body any better than the teenager could hide the rigidity in his. He touched the hand situated on his shoulder. "...Are you going back to your room? I can help you, if you want."
The offer brought up a half-dozen automatic denials -- he could make it on his own, Nathan would be right there to help, and so on. But he had not missed the tear stains on Johnny's sleeve, or the tightness of the boy's embrace. His pride was only worth so much, and the value of it had diminished greatly in the past few days anyway.
"I think I could use a hand, yes. I doubt I will keel over...but, you know, it is good to have someone to walk with me. Just in case."
Johnny nodded, grateful even for this small opportunity to be useful after so many days of restless waiting. He didn't move, waiting for Jean-Paul to adjust his hold and his stance of his own volition before they started down the familiar path to his room. It might take some time now, but the man seemed to be through the worst of things and now he could finally keep his promise to help. He offered his friend a faint smile, "And if you do, at least I have good reflexes?"