Jean and Jean-Paul: Late Friday Morning

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul comes to Jean with a request for her to help him with a way that might better help him to consciously use his concussive blasts.




The medlab was, by far, one of Jean-Paul's least favourite places on the mansion's grounds - in fact, it was entirely possible it was his least favourite place. It had nothing to do with the people who worked there and everything to do with negative associations he had for similar spaces. Medical areas made his skin crawl.

Still, he worked his way downstairs, through the hall, and to Jean's office. Meditation wasn't working for him and he was frustrated beyond measure with his lack of progress.

Jean was in the middle of typing up an update for Kevin's chart. He'd amassed more than a few new pages in the course of only a week or two. Interestingly (and unfortunately) he was not a novelty for some of their more seasoned residents.

Sensing Jean-Paul's presence, she saved Kevin's file and glanced over.

"We have to stop meeting like this," she said with a light smile, slipping off her glasses.

"At least it is on purpose this time," Jean-Paul pointed out, quirking a rueful smile that didn't wind up lasting very long. "I would like to speak with you, if you have a moment. It is about my mutation."

Jean nodded. "Touche," she mused, setting the glasses down on her desk, then stepped forward.

"What about it? What happened?" she said. The incident with Kevin was still relatively fresh.

Her mind immediately leaped into going over how much antibiotics, anti-inflammatory medication, and gauze she had left. At this rate she'd have to reorder, again.

"Nothing has happened," Jean-Paul said, settling in the chair across from Jean. "This is the problem, I think. I have been meditating, as Doctor McCoy suggested. we have been working in the Danger Room, also, trying to trigger the concussive blasts. It is not working so well. I wanted to discuss this with you, as I said."

Tilting her head, Jean paused a few moments, then nodded. "I see. And what would you want my role in this to be?" she said.

"It was... relatively easy to trigger a blast, oui? When you held me and I could not move. I was thinking it might be good to try to use that. I am... making no progress on my own." The frustration must have been coming off of him in waves, but Jean-Paul couldn't help it. With everything that had been going on, with the way he'd hurt Kevin, he needed to do something that would work, something that would help.

Jean studied him for a few long moments in silence.

"And you've given this a lot of thought? Are you absolutely sure this is what you want to do?" she said.

This was purposefully trying to frighten the man, to break him out of his comfort zone, push him into a dangerous situation. She knew how hard it must've been for him to come to her with the inquiry.

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "I would like to try."

Jean slowly nodded, already going over things in her mind. "Okay, but we'll need to do this carefully. We'll try for some amount of control," she said.

She was somewhat concerned on what this might do to him mentally, but perhaps it might actually be good to confront that feeling of confinement. Or it might go completely the other way. It was hard to tell.

"When do you want to start?"

"Soon," Jean-Paul answered, not having to think about that at all. "I am... very tired of making no progress. The Danger Room, it has helped me to narrow down the causes of the blasts, but it is not to good with the actual triggering of them, you see?"

"I understand," she said. After she came back to the mansion the first time, after Alkali Lake, what control she had over her telekinesis was severely set back. She almost had to start over.

"Just let me know when you're ready and I'll be there."

"Merci," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "I will let you know, as you say."

Jean nodded a little. "Good. We'll see how it goes." She would admit it would be very interesting to explore his limits.

Standing, Jean-Paul nodded his thanks again, and then made a quick escape from the medlab. He thought he'd go flying - he needed to feel less constrained.