Jean-Paul and Jeanne-Marie

[x-borealis.livejournal.com]

Jeanne-Marie shares a sleepless night with her brother as Jean-Paul's nightmares worsen.



Even with all that had happened since her arrival and all the gruesome truths she had learned, things were still going better than Jeanne-Marie had initially expected, considering the onslaught their bond had delivered to her. But that did not mean old scars and old habits could be left behind completely and tonight they were so prominent Jeanne-Marie had given up hope of sleeping. She was tense, aching for the sedatives she could have taken in Caen to numb her nerves and quiet her mind and help her rest, and she was worried. Simply worried for reasons she could not place or name.At two o'clock she had risen to walk the length of her room, one way and then the other and back again what seemed like a thousand times. A quarter after she had made tea. It was now nearing three and she had since made her way to her brother's room, looking in on him slumbering in his bed before taking up residence on his couch with the copy of Le Petit Prince that had been left on the coffee table. Being near him helped somehow. Knowing he was on the other side of a partially cracked door, safe and in the embrace of a much needed rest, helped.

In the quiet of the otherwise unoccupied suite, it was easy to hear a restless body tossing and turning on a mattress, or a quiet, choked sound that held all the distress of a full-throated scream. And then the crash of a heavy object hitting the wall beside the door.

The quiet sounds seemed deafening amid the silence and the crash was worse. Jeanne-Marie was on her feet in an instant and into her brother's room in two, helping to steady the staggering, heaving shadow that, though faceless and trembling, she immediately recognized as her twin. He had thrown himself from the tangle of sheets, half-mad with the need to escape whatever had crept into his dreams since she last looked in on him almost half an hour before. From the appearance of things he had not. Not yet. She held him by firmly his shoulders, speaking as evenly as she could manage in their native tongue, "Jean-Paul...Jean-Paul, you are all right..."

Too late, she remembered what touching him would do.

Jean-Paul tore away from her grip as the dull ache that signaled the nullification of their powers pulsed through their bones. He collided with the bed and fell to the floor again, only slowly blinking out of his panic. It took Jean-Paul several long moments to see her, his confusion having nothing to do with the darkness of the room. "...Jeanne-Marie?" He didn't sound like her brother at all; tremulously-voiced, she could see him shuddering from where she stood. There was no certainty to him at all. "No, I...you're here...?"

The dull pain of molecular suspension, the temporary loss of her powers, was inconsequential compared to that caused by her brother's frantic escape from her, watching him stumble back against the bed and collapse upon himself. He was a slim shadow shaking on the floor, lit only as a silhouette by the small light that managed to find its way in from the window. Jeanne-Marie knelt by him slowly, cursing herself for her lack of restraint and for her lack of forethought and for ever asking Walter to do this thing to her. The damage done, she extended one slim hand to touch his face.

"Here," she reassured him quietly, "At Xavier's. In your room. We are both safe." It was remarkable that her voice remained as gentle and as steady as it was, with every muscle in her body tight and her heart still beating with erratic speed both from the initial start of his waking and his violent reaction to their contact.

The second touch seemed to ground him somewhat, enough for him to finally register where he was and who with. He leaned into her hand a moment, then reached out to pull her close, hiding against her shoulder and holding her desperately, painfully tight.

"I thought you were dead," he moaned. "I thought that you were dead and I would never know what had happened to you."

It was startling to be suddenly wrapped up in those shaking arms, held to as if she were his last anchor to the world outside his head, but Jeanne-Marie wasted no time in hugging her brother tight, even as his words left her heart breaking. She could hear agony in his voice and all she had put him through since her disappearance. The scars she had left him with that could not be seen on his skin. "I am sorry, Jean-Paul" she whispered close to his ear because it was the only level at which she trusted her voice not to fracture, "I am here now. And I will never leave you again."

"You don't need to say that." His voice was no louder than hers, his face still hidden. "You...I didn't make you happy. I didn't make you better. You can leave if you need to, I will not trap you again. Just...do not leave me alone. Please."

"I know that," Jeanne-Marie replied softly, lifting one hand to gently stroke his hair and resting her head close to his, "I was hurting us both, brother. I had to leave. Do you understand? ...But nobody makes me happier than you do. I do not want to be apart from you." Alone. The word cut deep, but she could not deny it. He had left everything to stay with her and care for her...and she had repaid him with frantic madness and a brutal attack and people he despised to be his rescuers. Alone. She had left him utterly alone. "Never," she managed weakly, voice trembling, "I never will."

It seemed a very long time before Jean-Paul lifted his head, as if he were wary of putting even that much distance between them. "I'm not going to sleep again tonight. Do...would you like to do something? We can do whatever you like."

This extended silence made no progress in drawing Jeanne-Marie from Jean-Paul, motion existing only in her fingers as she continued stroking her brother's dark hair. They fell still as he gradually began to lift his head and she allowed her eyes to meet his. They were the same. The same pale irises and the same burdens and the same faint dampness that she knew had been mostly blinked away against her shirt. The arms that had now resettled around him held him close, "I think it might be for the best. Come. I'll make some hot spiced milk and we can...talk." She leaned to kiss his brow gently, not yet moving away and hoping to remind him of the pleasant things that did still exist beyond the walls of the dark room, "I have been wanting to hear more about your new life. About your friends and your doting proteges and about you."

Jean-Paul took her hands in his and slowly rose to his feet. "We can do that. With all that has happened since I arrived, I doubt we will make it through to Christmas before the sun comes up."