Jean-Paul and Catseye - Blasting

[x-catseye.livejournal.com]

Catseye stalks Jean-Paul to find out why he's been avoiding her and finds out exactly why when she pounces.


The cougar lay in a tree, tail lashing lazily, eyes slitted but still alert and focused on the open window of the mansion some five hundred feet away. She'd tried to gain entrance to Jean-Paul's suite multiple times in the past month, to ask him why he had left his own place so abruptly the last night she'd seen him, but he didn't ever answer the door. She understood that he probably wanted privacy, so Catseye hadn't pursued the issue. But curiosity was eating away at her. So tonight, Catseye had assumed BigCat form and had gone out in the woods to watch his window, to see if he was inside.

She'd seen him moving about quite soon after she'd taken up her position, and had nearly gone to his door to demand entrance, but guessing that he wanted his privacy she decided to wait until he came out. But not out the door- she wanted to see if he would come out the window, the way he'd come out the night they'd made the venison stroganoff, because she was curious about where he'd gone that night and why he'd left her. He'd been alright with her staying as BigCat while he napped before, so it didn't make sense to the catgirl that he would suddenly be bothered by it now, so she thought there must be some other explanation.

Jean-Paul pulled on his leather jacket and opened the window. He had an appointment with a real estate agent in the city in an hour - hopefully he'd be able to find an apartment quickly. That would make avoiding people while still having access to the assistance available at the mansion easier.

As he left, he made sure the window closed behind him hard enough for the latch to fall into place, locking it. Jean-Paul knew he'd have to get back in by way of the flight platform, but if he timed it right, there shouldn't be any trouble. And it did save him the worry of wondering whether or not someone was going to be inside when he returned.

Catseye didn't move when she saw Jean-Paul exit via the window, but her ears swiveled forward and her whiskers twitched. She watched him for as long as she could without moving, and only when he flew out of her line of sight did she move, rising smoothly from her crouched position and stalking slowly through the woods, watching to see where he was going.

Flying into the city, Jean-Paul met with the real estate agent briefly, discussed what he wanted and where he wanted it, and then told the woman to handle things. He'd check over her suggestions sometime next week. All told, the meeting itself took less than half an hour, but he took the flight back to the mansion a bit more slowly, following the path he'd taken to the city but letting himself enjoy it more. He flew less now than he had when he'd first returned to New York and many people would tell him that was good, since he wasn't nearly as exhausted as he had been. But Jean-Paul missed that, almost.

Setting his feet back on the ground in a deceptively familiar clearing, he paused.

The tired cougar, who had followed all the way into the city (switching to regular cat form when she first came into the populated area), tracked Jean-Paul back through the woods and into the clearing, the pads of her feet aching from the long run. When he paused, she took her opportunity to pounce, hitting him in the side in her cougar form, using her head so she wouldn't mistakenly scratch him.

He wasn't expecting it. If he'd been paying even the smallest bit of attention, he might have been able to dodge or deflect or something. As it was, though, Jean-Paul once again found himself on the ground. He couldn't see whoever it was that had tackled him, but even is reflexes couldn't stop him from being pinned.

Whoever - or whatever - it was, was heavy. That much he could say with a great deal of certainty as he tried to keep himself from panicking. He wasn't having much success.

Jean-Paul might have been alright if he hadn't frozen, if he'd tried to move, throw whatever was on top of him off. He didn't, though. He curled his fingers in toward his palms, fists tightening, and stayed very still.

If I can't see them, they can't see me. If I don't move, they can't see me. I can't see them, I can't -

He was seven and his foster father of the week had him by the scruff of his neck, he was yelling, he raised his hand and -

Someone had him pinned against a wall from behind. The invasion of personal space was bad enough, but it was the hands on his skin that made him angry. If he could just get his hands free -

They weren't real. Jean-Paul knew that. The memories, most of them - some of them? - weren't real. He hadn't lived them. He didn't think he had, anyway. They didn't feel right.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, the pain was excruciating, the man with the razor meticulously drawing out every slice until Jean-Paul's nerve endings screamed for a reprise. He got none.

Eyes closed tight, he swallowed hard, but it did no good.

A wave of energy pulsed from Jean-Paul's body with enough force to toss whatever was on him away.

The cougar was thrown back by the concussive blast that resulted, off Jean-Paul, and lay still by his side, on her side, barely breathing; stunned more by what Jean-Paul had done than the actual blast itself. "Mrrt?" she uttered meekly, almost plaintively. She was confused.

It took a moment for that sound to register and another moment for Jean-Paul to actually turn his head enough to see the large, purple cat. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the dirt and scrub beneath him. "Je suis tellement désolé."

Breathing heavily, the cougar stayed on her side for several moments just blinking her big purple eyes before shifting into girlform, not moving from her spot on the ground. Her face contorted in pain from the stomach cramps triggered by the transformation. "Did Catseye scare you?" she asked, eyes focused on him from where she lay.

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, feeling a headache building at his temples even as he fought down nausea. What else could he say?

"Catseye is sorry." She rolled onto her back, staring up at the stars from the clearing where they lay. "Catseye only wanted to find Mister Beaubier to ask why Mister Beaubier ran away from Catseye the other night when Catseye and Mister Beaubier made the deer food. Catseye did not want to scare Mister Beaubier." She sniffled and wiped at her wet eyes with a hand, feeling disappointed in herself.

"It is not Catseye's fault," Jean-Paul said, voice rough more from his efforts to calm himself than anything else. "You did not know." But it was a very good illustration of why she shouldn't be around him. "This..." He paused again to gather his thoughts, though he stayed where he'd landed on the ground. "This is why it is not safe to be near me. I... I cannot control these blasts." Then, after swallowing, he managed, "It is I who am sorry, Catseye."

"It is not Mister- your fault," she said, taking time with her own thoughts. "Your head is broken that is not your fault. And it does not hurt to get blasted," she told him. The hitting the ground part had hurt, but not the blast itself. Much. "Just because your head is broken and you cannot control your blasting does not mean you should go away to the city because the mansion is muchmuch safer than the city especially for the people in the place you will live if you are afraid of hurting people." She'd seen him go to the real estate office and didn't understand why he thought an apartment with strangers in it would be any safer than the mansion.

"I would not be living with people in the city," Jean-Paul said, finally pushing himself up so he could shift into a sitting position. "You are not hurt?"

Catseye rolled onto her stomach and got her knees underneath her so she could sit up. "Nopenope. It did not hurt." Possibly because she'd been a two-hundred pound cougar at the time. "You do not live with people at the mansion either so I do not understand? Is that why you left when we were napping the last night we napped because you thought it was like living together and you did not want to?"

"There are more people at the mansion," Jean-Paul said. "More people that I... used to know. It is harder to avoid them without complicating things. Making them feel bad?" That wasn't the right way to describe it, but Jean-Paul couldn't think of the correct one. He shook his head, though, because this - this was why it was better to be by himself. Misunderstandings happened so easily. "Non, chaton - it was not that it was like living together. It... the dreams that I have, they are... not happy. And I needed time to myself."

"Nightmares? I know all about nightmares!" she said proudly. "And yesyes you need to be by yourself sometimes when you have nightmares. I understand. You should have said you had a nightmare and had to go away in private I would have understood but you just ran away and then other days after I knocked and knocked to talk to you but you did not talk and that is what makes people feel bad I think that you want to avoid people not that you are different from how you used to be because everybody changes but when people love you they understand that you are not how you used to be and that you do not remember things because of your broken head. People at the mansion do not mind if you have to avoid them because you are danger. Only they mind when you run away and do not say why. That makes people sad."

She was speaking rather fast, but Jean-Paul listened to what Catseye said and attempted to process it. "Everyone... does not know that my head is broken. A few people know. And other people, they know that I have come back to ask for help with my mutation. But that is all. And this is why I cannot tell them about the nightmares." Jean-Paul stopped speaking for a moment, then moved until he could press his back against the trunk of the nearest tree. "I do not want everyone to know." That last bit was spoken softly. He knew it sounded petulant, but he couldn't change that. And perhaps saying as much would help her understand.

"I am good at keeping secrets when I know they are secrets," Catseye told him reassuringly, nodding. She crawled on her hands and knees over to his tree and sat cross-legged next to him. "Nightmares can be secrets if you want them to be and so can your broken head. But that still does not mean you have to go away to your own apartment. If people know you asked for help they should know that means you need help and that means they should not be angry if you cannot control your blasting." In her mind, having people know you asked for help should be enough warning that you were danger and it should be up to each person to decide whether to feel bad if you avoided them for a time.

"I would not be at this other place in the city all the time," Jean-Paul said, knowing that, if anything, it would just give him the option of being somewhere else. How could he explain that, though? Staying in one place for long periods of time made his skin itch. It was like he needed to constantly be moving, or... constantly be able to. Forcing himself to remain stationary, even just by remaining at the mansion, was driving him crazier than he already was. "I will not know the people at the apartment in the city. They will not know me. So there is no danger, you see, of someone walking into my room when I am having a nightmare. There is not danger of me hurting them." He wasn't sure that worked, so far as explanations went. Still, it was better than nothing. "Thank you, for letting these things stay secret."

"I do not want you to go away again even if it is just to the city and even if it is not all the time," Catseye said quietly, already forgetting about the earlier blasting and hugging Jean-Paul, putting her head on his shoulder. She understood perfectly well why he wanted to move, and even admitted to herself that it was an idea that made sense. But that didn't mean she had to be happy about it. "I can sleep outside your room and guard your door so that no one will walk into your room when you have a nightmare," she suggested hopefully. "And if they ask why I am there I will not tell them because it is a secret."

Jean-Paul smiled despite himself. It was a very small upward tilt of his lips, but it was there. "Non, chaton. And I will not be leaving, you see?" He thought for a moment. "It is... good to have the possibility, oui? The knowledge that I can leave, if I like. So I do not feel... caged. Does this make sense?"

Catseye looked up at him, realization dawning on her face. "Oh! You mean you want a special hiding place where you can go to be in private where no one can find you but you will only stay there when you feel like hiding and not all the time? Like my place in the woods that no one knows about where I keep my super secret shiny things and food and go to nap and hunt and play when I do not want to see any walls that are like cages and when I do not want to see or hear or smell any person not even Nick?"

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "That is what I want."

"Then that is okay," Catseye nodded, as if granting Jean-Paul her approval. She hugged him again, then stood and offered him a hand to help him up. "Can we go back to the mansion for right now though?"

"Oui," he repeated, taking her hand and letting her help him up. "This, I think, we can do."