xp_logs | Marie, Jake: Call it what you like, but it's... (Reply)

4:30pm, Sun Feb 15, Jake's office. Marie hunts Jake down in his office where he's checking up on Daphne to talk to him in his capacity as student counsellor regarding one of her students and their roles end up being reversed. Jake-introspection, tea, and biscuits ensue.

"Don't worry," Jake said, patting Daphne's leaf gently. "This won't hurt a bit..." He cut off one of the leaves quickly, leaving it to flutter down on the desk. "There. Don't you feel better now?"

"You're an odd man, Gavin." Marie spoke as she tapped lightly on his open office door. "I have the grades for my lit. class here, thought I'd come by and talk to you about Monet while she was on my mind."

Jake straightened, looking slightly guilty in a "talking to my plant? me? nooo" sort of way. Then he blinked. "Monet? What's she done now?"

"Well, she's not in trouble," Marie said as she closed the door behind her. "Her grades are more than acceptable. The problem is, I think she's bored. On the other hand, from what I know of her record, she's putting in a good effort toward toeing the line at the least and I don't want to alienate her." She sat down in the chair across from Jake and sighed heavily. "She spends half the class reading magazines and I'd like input from you on how to handle it."

"What kind of magazines?" Jake asked idly, clearing his desk a little so he could rest his elbows on it. "And, yeah, she's being surprisingly good, actually. Nothing blown up, most furniture where you left it, no weedwackers..."

"Standard fare for a girl her age," Marie said with a shrug. "Fluff. And, honestly, I don't care that she's reading them except that I expect the students who are doing less well not to be reading magazines."

"Ha. Yes." Jake frowned. "Actually, I think she's got a photographic memory. That, added with the fact that she's really quite bright when she wants to be, means you've got your work cut out for you. She's in your lit class?"

"Just don't take her seriously." Jake grinned. "She's a bitch, and she knows it, and if she sees she can get to you, she will."

Marie smiled. "Well, I think there's a balance there. I'm not going to take her /personally/ but that doesn't mean I won't take her seriously." She looked thoughtful. "She seems like the sort to be willing to cut a deal."

"Quite probably." Jake folded his hands and rested his chin on them. "So.. You got any fun photos from the weekend?"

"Yes, I did! God, I don't know where my mind is today." Marie fished around in her jacket pocket and pulled out the camera. "I must still be tired. There's about fifty pictures on the card. I got some great ones of S in there. And the camera /loves/ Hank."

"Give me." Jake straightened again, holding out a hand eagerly. "I need something to grin at. Possibly collage and hang on the front door..."

Marie tossed him the camera. "I'm going to offer the divine Miss M a deal. I don't send her to Scott for a talk on responsible behaviour in class and she participates fully whenever I call on her. The rest of the time, if she's done her work, she can go sit by the window and read."

Grabbing the camera and grinning gleefully, Jake nodded. "Might work, might work. Quite frankly, I have no clue about the..." He waved his hand. "Class thing. Security is getting on pretty well though."

"That's reassuring," Marie said, shaking her head at his complete lack of interest in the problem at hand. "In case it has any interest for you, Dr. Bartlet's been keeping tabs on that baby from the car accident for me."

He gave her a blank look, then the appropriate file card popped up in his mind. "Ah. The one with the... parents? How's she doing?" He was actually interested in the the answer, which was a novel experience.

"Most babies have parents, Jake." Marie's tone was a blend of exasperation and affection. "She's okay. It wasn't good for a while, they kept her in a coma until they could get a handle on the swelling in her brain. But it looks like aside from needing physical therapy as she grows, she'll be fine."

"I know they do. I was trying to be polite and not call them dumbass fuckers." Jake gave her an amused look, not without warmth. "It's good that she'll be fine though. Good thing we came when we did, I suppose."

"Over half the carseats out there are installed wrong," Marie noted with some distaste. "And yeah. It was a good thing." Her eyes were a little distant as she remembered the parents and their reluctance to hand their baby over to a mutant. Now they knew she carried the gene too. "I think they've learned their lesson."

Jake gave her a briefly doubting look, but didn't say anything. In his experience, some people were just plain stupid. "Are you a part of the Red X thing, by the way?"

"No, I'm not," she shook her head. "Not for lack of wanting to be, but I get a good share of training for teams and my time is limited between my minimum three hours of that a day, teaching, trying to get my teaching cert, and studying on my own. Are you?"

"Hell, no." Jake stared wideeyed at her, surprised by the question.

Marie met Jake's shock with a steady look. "Why not?"

"Helping people? Voluntairily? Pro bono? No thanks. I'll stick to what I know." Jake's face turned hard, almost ugly for a moment before he smiled. "Too old to change my ways, Marie."

"That, Jake Gavin Junior, is the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard in all my days," Marie said flatly.

Jake shrugged, turning the camera over in his hands. "You missed the Joshua. It's Jacob Joshua. Bullshit, huh?" His eyes were literally darkening as he looked at her. "What makes you say that"?

"Because I know people, Jake. And it is never too late to change," she said, unperturbed by the change in his expression. "If you don't want to, I won't judge. If you're too afraid to, I understand. But you are never, ever too old to change, if it matters to you."

"Change too much and too quickly, and you lose yourself," Jake retorted. He held his arms out from his body. "Look at me."

"You're still Jake in there," Marie said calmly. "Believe me, Jake, I know /all/ about losing myself. One of the good things about change is that you can become the person you want to be, instead of being stuck as the person life has shaped." She gestured at his body. "In many different ways."

"I want to be me," Jake said firmly, eyes lightening again. "And don't tell me you want to be stuck with the memories you have, the instincts that aren't yours. Maybe you get some good out it. Hell, maybe I end up benefitting from this fucking thing," he gestured at his body, "But believe me, I'd rather I didn't. I am a courier, Marie. That's all I've ever wanted to be."

"You're full of it today, Jake," she told him bluntly. "Maybe it /was/ all you ever wanted to be but don't tell me you didn't get some little sense of satisfaction at knowing that baby is well and fine now thanks to us. And don't tell me the /only/ reason you're worried about security here is boredom or simple self-preservation or even just pride. Or, rather, /do/ tell me, and make me believe it this time."

He regarded her until the silence became uncomfortable and he got up from his chair, walking around the desk to look down at her, knowing he wasn't intimidating her the least. The challenging look was a dead give away. He didn't care. "You want the truth?"

"As much of it as I can get," Marie replied, looking up at him.

"I'm fucking scared to death of this place. I don't like caring if people live or die. I hate the way the guys look at me when I don't really want them to. I hate the fact that maybe I do want it. I fucking can't stand knowing that most of the kids here could kill me by fucking accident. I hate that I need to stay here if I'm ever going to get my head sorted out. This place makes no sense. There's no logic here. It fucking makes my skin crawl that--" he cut off. The weak red glow that had appeared in his eyes at the last sentence faded abrubtly. "I hate that I don't know who I am anymore. And, yeah. I'm glad the little one is still alive."

Marie reached out and took Jake's hand in hers, her fingers silky in cream-coloured gloves. Her grip was firm yet gentle. "Now that," she said. "That I believe. It's going to be okay." Her gaze was steady and confident.

He held her gaze. "It's going to be okay, huh? Pardon me for doubting you on that." He sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand. "I know. I'm just fucking stressed right now."

"Yes, you are. And you can doubt all you want but from what I've seen, you're not going to roll over and give up. As long as that remains true, things will continue to improve." She tugged his hand, pulling him a little closer. "A little help from your friends wouldn't hurt, though. Anything I can do?"

"Can you get me a cup of tea?" said Jake after a moment, smiling at her a little sheepishly. He squeezed her hand in thanks. "Tea would be very good right now, I think."

"I can do that. Tea cures most ills." Marie got up and pulled Jake into a warm, quick hug. "The hug's just to tide you over until it gets here," she said quietly.

"I'll be better," he said just as quietly. Louder, amused; "I'm still not sure I like this whole 'conscience' business though."

Marie smiled over her shoulder at him as she opened his door. "It's not so bad," she said. "It doesn't get in the way... much. Back in a few, Jake." She let herself out and closed his office door behind him to give him a few moments alone -- except for Daphne, of course -- to gather himself.

He remained standing by the chair, not really looking at the door. There was still the warning bell ringing with all it's might, telling him that he'd said too much, shown too much... He ignored it. It may have taken some time -- and Alison tossing him out the window -- but he had finally realised that he'd never survive here if he didn't try harder. Jake knew Marie was interested in Infonet and in gathering what information out of him she could. He could see it in her eyes, but she wasn't doing it for any of the reasons he knew. Had experienced before, in fact.

In Marie's face, he could see bits of himself.

His lips quirked in a sudden smile. Like he'd told Angelo, Marie was sinew. Not muscle, not bones, not flesh, but something in the middle, stronger... The smile faded. And dependent on the rest.

He was desperately frightened that he'd get used to the idea of having people around who cared. Whom he cared about in return.

Too bad, really, that he suspected it had already happened.

But no fucking way was he ever admitting that to Pe -- Wisdom.

Oh hell.

Jake patted Daphne with a sigh. "You know, maybe that would give him the heartattack I've been aiming for. Though I was close with that Dreamy Pete comment, wasn't I, love?"

There was a tap on the door and then it opened. "Hey." Marie entered with a tray in hand. Tea set, cups, biscuits, all very civilized and comforting. She set it down on Jake's desk and stood looking at him with her hands planted on her hips. "I didn't know if you wanted company or not, but..."

He blinked startled. "You know, I don't talk to Daphne all the time," Jake felt it necessary to tell her. He looked down at what she's brought and brightened. "Hey, biscuits!"

Marie smiled at him and shrugged. "They seemed like a necessity," she said a little sheepishly. "Tea's more comforting that way. What do you take in yours?"

"Depends on what tea it is." He walked over to his chair and pulled over to the side of the desk instead to keep the informal atmosphere intact. He sat down and smiled. "Thanks."

"Earl Grey," Marie said, lifting the lid and then wrinkling her nose. "Needs to steep a little more. I'm rather pavlovian about it. The world can't be going to hell if there's Earl Grey."

Jake laughed. "Obviously not. Lemon, then, if you have."

"Would I let you down?" Marie pointed to a small saucer. "My mamaw liked lemon in her tea, always. She said it was ladylike. I'm so impatient about tea." She flopped down in her chair in a most petulant and unladylike fashion.

"I have no idea where I picked up that habit." Jake looked amused. "My dad's a coffee person. Seriously. I mean, I like coffee too, but not five cups before breakfast..."

"They've both got their place," Marie said, looking over at Daphne with some interest, gauging the shine and thickness of her foliage. "But five cups of anything before breakfast... well, given that I run and train before breakfast, it wouldn't be a good idea no matter what it was."

He followed her look, brightening proudly. "Isn't she lovely? She might bloom soon. See in the middle there?"

"Oh, very nice." Marie leaned forward for a better look. "Have you ever read The Little Prince?"

"Um. Saint Exupery or some such?" Jake blinked in surprise.

"Yes." Marie reached over to pour the tea. "Let me see if I can remember, because you made me think of it just now. I had to memorize parts of it for speech class in school." She handed Jake his tea and held out the saucer of lemon slices. She bit her lip for a moment, then recited, "'If some one loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars. He can say to himself, 'Somewhere, my flower is there . . .' But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened . . .' Being afraid of caring for things, even flowers, is natural."

"There was a boy standing on a tiny world," Jake said, in a sort of reply, taking a slice of lemon. "I remember it now." He paused for a moment. "Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux." He smiled a little. "I've always remembered it as a caution. People are rarely what they seem to be."

"It is a caution, in its way." Marie poured herself tea and put a little milk in it. "To forget it would be disasterous on any level. You reminded me of the prince there for a moment, with your flower and your metaphorical baobabs of attachments and your uneasily sleeping volcanoes of the past." She took a biscuit and sat back down, nibbling it and looking over at Jake with an artless expression.

Jake snickered, lifting his cup. "Sleeping vulcanoes, huh? Bet he'd love that."

Marie smiled. "Anything sounds pretty if you say it properly." She sipped at her tea and sighed blissfully, then tucked her feet up under her. She fit easily into the chair, curling up made her seem smaller than usual.

He sipped in his tea, smiling. "Or if you say it in another language." He leaned back in his chair, relaxing, enjoying just sitting here and drinking tea and having an intelligent conversation with someone. Even if she was ten years his junior. And intelligent didn't necessarily mean that it didn't do surreal things at times."Did you guys have fun snowboarding? I don't think I asked before."

"It was fun, actually. Shinobi's good at that, at least at getting /me/ to have fun. I'm not so good at it usually. You should come with us next time," Marie suggested.

"How's the after ski? That's really the whole point of going, you know." Jake grinned. "I'll think about it?"

"You'd probably be bored out of your mind if you were looking for what I suspect you consider to be fun," Marie said honestly. "Suburban parents reacquainting themselves with the little strangers they drop off at six and pick up at six five days a week, highschool rebels with their piercings and snowboards and attitudes, and gaggles of college students laughing too loud and vomitting in the shrubberies at two in the morning. But, since we all went together, it was great. I went for the people and the new setting, really, nothing else, and it was more than worth the trip."

Jake shuddered visibly. "Sounds hellish."

Marie smiled. "Yeah, but going to hell and back together seems to be the theme around here, wouldn't you say?"

"No need to go looking for it, though."

"It comes one way or the other," Marie said simply. "I'd rather be out of the house when it's time to fill my quota." She sipped her tea and looked at Jake with suddenly too-old eyes.

He met her look, held it, then nodded slowly. "They are so innocent, you know that?" His voice was almost admiring, almost regretful. "They don't think they are. They think they can change the world. They don't realise that evil doesn't always tell us it's name. Such innocence... I can't remember ever feeling like that."

"It's not innocence, Jake." Marie shook her head. "It's whatever you get back after you've lost innocence. Call it what you will; insanity, blindness, faith, hope... I don't care. But it's not innocent. It's braver than that."

"Maybe. I don't know. I don't think I've ever met people like you before." He frowned down at his tea. "Well, except Monet, of course. Her I know. It's a certain sort of edge, perhaps, that I'm used to seeing, which isn't here. Shinobi has some of it, you can see it shining through some times. Angelo too, but in a different way. He's frightened, you know."

"I know." Marie looked down into her tea cup and then looked back up at Jake. "So are we all, at times." She bit her lip and looked past him, thinking back. "As for the edge, I don't know. I think most of us have just put it down because you can't put your lives in each others' hands as easily when you're trying to hold onto that edge. Then again, maybe I'm talking bullshit," she said with a wry smile.

Jake grinned back, shaking it off. "Well, we've got tea and cookies! How serious could we possibly get? And on a completely different note, do you have any suggestions as to how I can get Monet to stop attacking me with nail polish whenever I see her?"