Scott and Jean-Paul

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

Scott visits, and is strategically undemanding company.



Jean-Paul had hit his limit for human interactions fairly quickly, and had quietly retreated back to his room for the day, happy to limit himself to an afternoon of Nathan's undemanding company and a night of broken rest. Though he was trying to hold on to it, the initial rush of optimism that had come with emotional distance granted by the memory blocks and the knowledge that his store of false memories was finite was already starting ebb. It was one thing to know that the situation had to get better, but it would be some time before things actually got there. And even then, "better" was not "good".

There was always the hope that his mind would knit enough for the telepaths to go in and do more selective surgery, he supposed. In the meantime, there was therapy to contend with, telepathic and conventional, the goddamned nightmares...

The knock on the door startled him for a moment.

"Come in."

The door opened, only part of the way. "You up for company?" Scott's voice asked quietly, although Scott himself remained out of view. "I have no problem coming back another day, if not..." Jean didn't discuss her patients, whether they were patients in the medical sense or the telepathic sense. He'd be lying by omission if he didn't admit, at least to himself, that he picked up on things that should have remained confidential, though. Usually he just made a point of pretending he didn't, but in this case, he did want to give Jean-Paul the choice.

"No, it is fine," Jean-Paul said softly, casting a glance at where Nathan was napping on his couch. He supposed it was a testament to Xavier's skill that Nate was willing to trust him alone long enough to sleep. Jean-Paul moved to the door so that he wouldn't have to raise his voice. "Thank you for the warning, though. Do you mind if we talk at the table? I would really rather he rest."

The door opened the rest of the way, slowly, and Scott stepped in, his gaze flickering briefly to Nathan. "Yeah," he said with a brief flicker of a smile, "let's not wake up your guard dog." He closed the door softly behind him, and tried not to give Jean-Paul too assessing a look as they headed to the kitchenette.

"I am doing much better than I was three days ago," Jean-Paul said, heading for the fridge and keeping his gaze averted. Reassurance. "Getting some appetite back. Sleeping occasionally. I have not tried to put myself into low orbit again. So far, so good."

"All very good," Scott said quietly, sinking into a chair at the table. "I've been asking Jean about you on a regular basis, but I thought holding off on an actual visit would be a good idea."

"It...thank you. The fewer people to see me as I was, the better." He brought a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses over to the table. "It is difficult enough facing them as I am, but things will get better." A weak smile. "And then they will get worse when the blocks come out, I am sure."

"I found that the hardest thing," Scott said slowly, "was to try and remember that things would get better. Even if there was some backsliding." He'd told Jean-Paul about his experience with Lyman, during one of those 'catching-up' conversations. It wasn't that he thought the experiences were equivalent. Just that he thought he could empathize, at least a little, with the feeling that everything you had been had been left in pieces.

Jean-Paul nodded acknowledgment and kept his voice low. "Even if 'better' is a relative thing. I am...I feel as if I cannot help but get through this right now because the blocks are keeping me from the worst of it. Already, part of me knows that is going to wear off as I start figuring out what this is on its own terms, and I wonder if I am going to wind up sneaking onto the roof again anyway because I am not so strong as people seem to think I am." He managed something like a laugh. "Such a burden, having people give a damn."

"And yet, they insist on continuing," Scott murmured, not quite wryly. "This is going to sound like the most inane question, but is there anything I can do? Anything you need?"

"Trite as it may sound, you are doing it by being here." Jean-Paul poured the drinks. "As much as I may want to, I cannot hide away from this and make progress. I do not know how much Jean has told you of my...status, but right now, I have unpleasant variations of my memories grafted into my mind." His voice was level. His hands shook slightly and he set the pitcher down. "The worst of them tend to trigger when I see people I knew before the incident. But...there are only so many of them."

"Mmm." Scott took one of the glasses. "Dare I hope I didn't feature in any of them?"

"None were spared, unfortunately." Jean-Paul tried to keep his voice light. "But, as I said, there are only so many. I have spent so much time with Nathan since the return, the ones where he features started repeating. It...is not good but it lessens the impact. So...I need to be around people, whether or not I like it. But then it is a balance between how much of that helps, and how much is just painful."

Scott took a deep breath and then let it out, sipping at the iced tea. "False memories should fade over time. One hopes. I'm sure Charles and Jean will be able to do something more, once your mind starts to heal properly..."

"That is the hope. It's...they have done a lot of work already. And Nathan...I should be able to carry myself for a time." He wasn't sure himself if that were a statement of fact or a criticism.

"In the end we all have to carry ourselves," Scott said after a moment. "But. Nathan is far from the only one who would pick up the slack for you, for now." He gazed steadily across the table at Jean-Paul.

The speedster managed to hold his gaze this time. "Merci. I...still do not know just what I am going to need, besides people just being there, but I will let you know when I do."

"I still owe you a number of pool lessons," Scott said, not quite lightly. "Once you're feeling better, and up to Harry's."

Jean-Paul nearly snorted iced tea. The reminder seemed...absurd. "And here I thought that I liked winning..."