Kevin & Jean-Paul, Early Friday Evening

[x-quebecois.livejournal.com]

Kevin goes to the woods for some powers training, Jean-Paul is there for running, and they bump into one another. Sort of.


Kevin had found a clearing he liked out in the woods, one well enough away from both the archery range and the hunting grounds. He sat in front of a large, clearly fallen, branch with a bare hand hovering over it. The Southerner was frowning at the bit of organic matter. "Ah dunno 'bout you," he muttered, "but Ah'm not really lookin' forward to this." He had come to learn over the past year and a half that using his powers was what released all that tension he carried around with him. He'd learned that using them at length gave him what he could equate to being a sort of high. It felt right and good to use his powers so he had developed a healthy paranoia about doing so.

If he ever wanted to be free of his court mandated restrictions Kevin would need to learn as much control over his powers as was possible. That was great, wasn't it? He needed to use the mutation to get control over it enough that the court would deem him to be safe to live among people, but using it could mean developing an addiction again and who knew what he could do with control and an addition both. Funny, that.

Jean-Paul had considered his various interactions over the past few days, his invitation to Logan, the resultant conversation, his reaction, seeing Yvette in the forest, speaking to Wanda in New York. He didn't know what to make of it, of any of it. His mind wouldn't stop, wouldn't stay still - he couldn't concentrate on anything and the drugs Doctor McCoy had prescribed to him weren't working, at least not in a way that was easy for Jean-Paul to see or understand.

There was only one thing that would get him to a point where he couldn't think anymore. Only one.

Which was how he wound up nearly running Kevin over - quite literally. Running would exhaust him, he knew, and so he headed for the forest behind the school. There was no better place that he could think of to duck and dodge large, inanimate objects for miles. Only a quick left turn toward a stump that would give him a bit of lift allowed him to avert what would have been a very messy ending for himself. As it was, he vaulted off the stump and into the air, his flight uncontrolled, and wound up tumbling through the branches of a very large oak.

Kevin jumped and fell to the side, though the reaction wouldn't have saved him if Jean-Paul hadn't dodged as quickly as he had. That bare hand caught his weight and Kevin felt that pull instantly, as if his mutation was draining the life of the matter it touched. There was nothing beneath his palm save for the inorganic bits of the soil by the time he looked up to see what it was that had nearly hit him. All he could see was a blur of color that was maybe vaguely human shaped.

Jean-Paul stayed where he was for a long moment after he came to a stop in the tree. He was very close to the trunk, his cheek scraped by the bark, but he was otherwise fine. Looking down, he waited for a moment, then pushed himself off the branch supporting his middle and wove his way down, through the tree until he could stand at its base. "Bonjour," he said, not entirely sure if that was the right thing to say but not having anything else at the moment. Then he swallowed, rubbed his scraped cheek with the back of one hand, and said, "I am sorry. I should have been watching more carefully."

"Are you okay?" Kevin wasn't sure if the man was bleeding, exactly, but he could see the little red lines across his cheek.

After a bit of staring at Jean-Paul in an attempt to make sure he was alright, Kevin realized that the pull of his mutation was still there. The effects of his powers were still spreading because there was still contact. His hand was abruptly pulled away from the ground as if it burned and Kevin wound up falling back onto his ass. "Maybe Ah should wear blinkin' lights out here."

"This would attract more attention, would it not?" Jean-Paul asked, quirking a rueful smile. "I am well, yes." He paused, taking notice of the ground where Kevin's bare hand had settled so briefly. Seating himself, he rubbed at his shoulder, then his elbow, and said, "My powers, they give me some resistance against... trauma? Blunt force, oui? And the rest - it is nothing." His metabolism was just quick enough that he'd heal faster than a baseline human. Sometimes, that metabolism came in handy. "You are here to practise?"

Kevin wasn't entirely sure slamming into a tree could count as nothing, but if the guy said so then who was the Southerner to argue? He was a little busy trying to ignore the figurative elephant in the room and the awkward that came with anyway. "Yeah. Court says Ah gotta." He chewed on his lip, eyes taking in small details of the other man's posture, his expression. "Runnin' away from home?"

Looking down at himself, Jean-Paul picked some leaves off his jeans and tossed them to the side. "Oui." What else was there to say? Agility training was all well and good, but anyone who knew him well could tell you that he never ran unless he wanted to get away from something, exhaust himself so thoroughly that he wouldn't be able to breathe afterward, let alone think. But Kevin didn't know him that well. "In a way." Glancing back up at the younger man, Jean-Paul raised his brows. "What do you practise here, with your powers?"

"How come?" If Kevin could manage to derail the conversation from his own freakish mutation he'd do it. He was dusting the dirt and the ashes of decomposition off his hands while he looked up at the other man and waited for a reply. There was no backpack. That thought stuck out fairly loudly in the younger man's head. Then again, Jean-Paul wasn't a student these days so why would there be?

A somewhat pleasant tingling sensation marched along his palm and Kevin hoped if he could focus on Jean-Paul, if he could keep his own attention firmly on something not himself then that tingling wouldn't continue. If the tingling faded, if it felt less good then he'd be able to concentrate when he really did get around to the training he was out here to do. Not being able to concentrate, that was dangerous but not for the branch. The branch would just be gone and it wouldn't care, but other people...they'd care if it got bad.

Jean-Paul saw what the younger man had done there. He understood the reasons behind it. "I will give you an answer for an answer, mon ami."

"Control." It was a simple, accurate if not fully explanatory answer. Kevin needed to not think about it. He needed to not put the mental images together of his hand brushing over bark and watching it begin to dry out and die under his touch. The time his hand had spent on the ground had already uncoiled some of the tension in his shoulders. It wasn't enough to be noticed by someone else but Kevin could feel it.

"So why're you runnin' away?"

"Lack of control," Jean-Paul replied, which was entirely true. "More the frustration it causes, I think." And the danger he posed to others because of it. His conversation with Logan was still fresh in his mind. "What parts of your mutation are you seeking to control?"

"There's only one part of my mutation," Kevin replied and stood up. He was putting distance between himself and the fallen branch and pulling his glove back on while he did so. Next the hood of his shirt came up and was followed by the hood of his sweatshirt. If he had a scarf he'd probably wrap it around his face so only his his eyes showed. "Ah can try to control where the decay goes or Ah can let it eat away at whatever it touches however it wants. That's all the control Ah get. That's what Ah get to try to practice. That's what Ah gotta get better at." Get better or he'd never be allowed out of the country without permission. He couldn't be allowed to go anywhere for more than three days without permission. He'd be twenty-one in a few months and he was on a shorter leash than most eighteen year olds.

"Control - like what you did to the stick you gave me at the boathouse?" Jean-Paul asked, keeping his seat as the younger man moved. He watched him closely, carefully, and then chose to leave that part of the conversation behind. "Trust is a strange thing, is it not?"

The shift from control to trust caught Kevin off balance. It distracted him enough that he stopped trying to disappear into his clothes, he stopped thinking about how much more dangerous control made him. "Yeah, Ah guess. Ah don't think Ah follow."

"It is difficult to follow the logic of a broken mind," Jean-Paul said, quirking a smile. "Which is trust, in its way, is it not?" There were rocks on the ground near him and he reached for them, finding three so he could begin tossing them in the air. "I trust that you will not repeat what I said to someone else. You trust that there is a logic you cannot see between my question and my statement. They are different levels, different realms, oui? And yet, it is trust, either way." The pattern the rocks made in the air wasn't particularly elaborate - he'd need more than three to make something truly interesting. "Throw me another."

"You mean you assume Ah think there's logic 'tween the question and the statement." He hadn't thought there was a connection, he just wasn't sure what the point of the statement was. Kevin understood shifting conversations, he understood that things occurred to people in the middle of something else. "You always put things down to your mind bein' broken? 'Cause plenty of people change topic without one havin' anything to do with another and they do it without broken minds." There may have been a very quiet, subtle touch of irritation in Kevin's voice.

He picked up a stone and watched the rhythm of the three Jean-Paul was juggling. Why was he juggling? Maybe the man felt like being eight different levels of random today. Maybe he always juggled after nearly running people over. Kevin tossed the rock underhand to the other man, hoping he'd timed it right that it could be caught. If not, well, Jean-Paul was a speedster, right?

Plucking the stone from the air, Jean-Paul kept one eye on the new pattern he'd chosen and the other on the younger man. "Apologies," he said. "Assumptions are unwise. And rude. I do not put everything down to my broken mind, but much returns to it. Maybe it is an easy answer for things I do not wish to think about." He let the stones fall to the ground rather than continuing the pattern, turning his attention fully toward Kevin. He gestured to the spot of ground next to him, movements slow now. "Will you sit with me, please?"

"Why?" The moment the word was out of his mouth Kevin looked like he regretted. "Sorry, that was rude. Ah mean...you were going somewhere, Ah think. And Ah," he trailed off, eyes turning to the ground. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled further over his head until it almost fell down over his eyes. "Ah don't think Ah should be close to you right now."

"I was running away," Jean-Paul reminded, voice quite. "There is never a destination when I run, only a place I want desperately to be rid of. Anywhere else will do, will it not?" Picking up one of the stones he'd juggled moments before, he turned it over, fingers exploring ridges and indentations almost idly, eyes still on the younger man. "The hands. They made a heart. A real one. Why?"

He hadn't thought Jean-Paul would put that bit together. Honestly, Kevin didn't think most people would look at the drawing long enough to figure that out. "How long'd you look at it until you figured that out?" He still wasn't looking at the Quebecois. In fact, he was trying to figure out how to cover more of himself, disappear further into his clothes so that the fading impulse would go completely.

"An hour or so," Jean-Paul answered. "But also, I was looking at the others. It was the last, though, and so I ended on it, always." Standing again, he let the stone fall where he'd been sitting and moved to the patch of ground where Kevin's powers had taken hold briefly. Sitting on his heels, he smoothed his hand over it, fingers spread wide, and then looked up at the younger man even as he moved living soil onto the spot that was now dead, mixing the two with the simple gesture. He let the silence hang for a moment, then asked again, "Why?"

Kevin shrugged, watching the hand mix new soil in. Too bad it wasn't always that easy. Too bad you couldn't just mix new cells in with the dead ones after touching him, right? "Seemed appropriate."

Dusting his hand off, Jean-Paul stood again and, though he stayed where he was, his stance was open. "A... friend of mine, he said that I could not keep things to myself, my anger and frustration. Or someone would be badly hurt. This is why I have been running. For days, I have run. It takes me no further from the crux of my problem."

"So why keep running?" Head tilting to the side, Kevin forced his attention back to Jean-Paul and away from his own demons he was attempting to shut up in a cave at the moment. He looked like hell. "If the problem is you keep stuff to yourself then you need to not do that, right? Running's just...tiring, isn't it?" Kevin had art to get stuff out of his system. He didn't talk to people that often about things except for his therapist and God knows he wouldn't do that if he didn't have to.

"That is the point," Jean-Paul said, thinking of the night he'd spent staring at the bottles of tequila Logan had left, the nights since then when he'd barely allowed himself to blink, let alone sleep. He was mainlining caffeine and fast food to keep himself going, but it wouldn't work for much longer. Rubbing at his shoulder again, Jean-Paul shook his head. "I am sorry. I think I have overstayed my welcome."

Frowning to himself, Kevin wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want Jean-Paul to go because he was pretty sure wherever he was going wouldn't be a good idea. He was getting the feeling that maybe the other man made the choices he thought were easier for people instead of the ones that were right. Or maybe just easier for him. Either way, he wasn't sure he should let him just go. On the other hand, he didn't want to let him stay there with him. Kevin didn't want to do something and end up having to fight off an impulse that could get the other man hurt. "But where're you gonna go?"

"The sky, it is the limit, is it not?" Jean-Paul asked by way of replying. There was still dirt on his fingers, dark and rich from where he'd pulled the new over the old, with traces of the lighter, drier, dead earth there as well. Looking up from his hands, Jean-Paul caught Kevin's eyes and held them, asking, "You said, before, that you would trust me, non?"

He wanted to ask if Jean-Paul was going to come back. Running away, it usually meant you didn't return. The little boy in the story hadn't, after all. Instead he held the question in his mind and nodded because he'd been asked a question. "Yeah, Ah said that." Kevin wouldn't take it back either. Jean-Paul wasn't the one he worried about trusting.

Nodding, Jean-Paul considered that for a moment before moving very, very slowly to where Kevin was standing. "I trust you, also. You know this, oui?"

"Yeah." The word came out quiet, a little strangled from the tightness of his throat. Jean-Paul was getting closer and while he may have moved slowly it still sent panic through Kevin. It wasn't the time to get near him. That tingling, that quiet, aspiring euphoria had faded but the memory hadn't. Kevin was terrified of that memory.

Jean-Paul stopped short, head tilting to the side at the peculiar note in Kevin's voice. He'd said earlier that he didn't think he should be close to Jean-Paul. There was more to that than the speedster had initially thought, he believed. And so he nodded again. "I will see you soon, mon ami," he said quietly, then pushed off the ground and headed skyward, avoiding branches along the way. He didn't go very far, just out of sight, before doubling back and finding a tree from which he could see without being seen.

He was gone before Kevin could get his panic under enough control to say anything. He stared up where Jean-Paul had disappeared through the trees and spoke to himself. "So that means you're comin' back, right?" Now there was nothing to divide his attention. There was nothing to shift focus toward. It was just Kevin and the woods around him. He wasn't sure how long he stared up into the branches of the trees overhead, but Kevin was pretty sure it felt longer than it was.

The panic had subsided by the time Kevin looked back down toward the fallen branch. The look he gave it was entirely unfriendly. Despite that, he pulled off his glove and pushed his hood out of his eyes. He didn't want to reach out toward it even knowing he had to. There was always that worry in the back of his mind that one of these times it would feel too good. It would be too easy. And he wouldn't want to stop. Entire trees would be gone before he'd exhaust himself and pass out, but what was to say a bare cheek or a bare hand wouldn't fall onto something and let his mutation continue to gorge itself.

It was with great trepidation that Kevin knelt down and laid fingertips to bark. The look of concentration was easy to spot, jaw flexing with the effort to concentrate and control himself as much as the direction of the decay. The bark began to decay and turn to ashes under his hand, but only the bark. Kevin stripped the branch first because that he could do easily. That he was good at. He couldn't help but think about how awful it would be if that was turned around one day. It'd be so much easier to strip a person of their skin than a piece of wood its bark. These were the things Kevin thought about when he did this. Every step closer to control only gave him a greater capability to be a monster. How did that make him more fit to be in society?

Jean-Paul sat in the tree, watching Kevin hone his skill, and he wondered at the look on the younger man's face. He wondered at the trace of panic he'd heard before. He wondered about a great many things as he sat there, curled in on himself, just watching.