Jean and Garrison (slightly backdated to Sunday)

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Worked up over what happened during the mission to Madripoor, Jean overreacts to something a groggy Garrison calls her.



The medlab was filled up that day; many of the recovery rooms had a patient, more than there had been in awhile. Jean absently brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, still tasting the chalky taste of Tums on her tongue. Her stomach had been uneasy since they'd gotten back.

Entering Garrison's recovery room, Jean put on a smile, trailing the cart of goodies she normally carried with her for her other patients behind her.

She'd put him on an IV filled with painkillers, with a cutoff switch that kept him from overdosing. To say it hurt like hell was an understatement, but there was only so much drugs the body could take before it shut down.

She wanted to checkup on him to see how the wounds were doing since she'd stitched him up. He was one of two in similar predicaments.

"Good morning," she said, her voice carrying a little louder to try to get him to stir. Once she did the check up she'd let him sleep but first she had to make sure everything was starting to heal properly.

"How are we feeling? Other than 'oh God, ow?'"

Kane slowly opened both eyes and sat up. He leaned against the head bard and then closed one eye, carefully scrutinizing her through it, before opening them both again. While he was focusing on her, his gaze was somewhat vague, as if he was deep in thought about something else before he finally spoke.

"You have very nice red hair. And really long legs." He waved her over earnestly, leaning forward in the bed and stage whispering towards her. "Have you noticed all the crazy people here are hot? That's so weird, isn't it? But they are. Ssh, shh, don't tell anyone. It's a secret."

Jean quirked a brow, the amused grin on her lips that had worked itself up quickly died at hearing the word 'crazy.' She clenched her jaw, narrowing her eyes as she crossed the room. The cart zipped forward as she walked behind it, then came to a quick stop beside her as she reached his bedside, making barely a sound. Careful, controlled movements.

"Sit back, please. I need to examine your wounds for infection," she said, any semblance of mirth gone from her voice and replaced with a cold professional tone. She seemed poised to make him do it.

"They haven't gone anywhere." He prodded one bandage. "Still wounded."

"Sit back," Jean said firmly with the voice she might give one of the students.

'The sooner you do it, the sooner I'll leave."

Kane leaned back without complaint, floating wrapped in a fog of drugs. Because of his powers, he needed immense doses to affect him, and he was so unused to them that they tended to knock him for a loop.

Jean gently pulled back the covers and took off the bandages with the same gentleness. Even if she was angry with the person, he was her patient and still deserved the proper care.

She carefully examined the wound for inflammation, a sign of potential infection. But since Garrison had a healing factor that was generally not a problem.

"Looks fine. I'm going to redress it," she said. She worked quickly but precisely, covering the wounds with a thin layer of antibiotic ointment.

She meant what she said: the quicker she did it, the quicker she'd leave him be. After all, she was crazy to him, so it didn't make sense for her to be his doctor, did it?

"Yes. It might need to go somewhere." The Canadian muttered groggily.

Jean spared him no smiles, no laughs as she started putting a large bandage carefully over the width of the wounds, then another.

"Right."

"Left."

Jean clenched her jaw, pulling her hand away before she pressed too hard on the wound. She shook her head.

"Just...stop talking and let me work, please. If you want to be cute, do it when Amelia comes in next round. She'll be your doctor. Maybe you'll get a laugh."

"Wait. I thought Doc Jean was coming next?"

"No, I'm turning your care over to Amelia. She's best suited to take care of you."

Because right now she was pretty sure she wanted to slap him.

Kane closed one eye and peered at her intently. "You're Doc Jean?"

Making sure the bandage was neatly on, the biohazard bin in the bottom of the cart opened up and the old bandages were tossed inside.

"Yep, that's me, Insane Doc Jean. Wouldn't want my craziness to rub off on you," she said as the covers slid back up to cover his stomach and the cart started rolling out of the room.

"We're done here," she said, turning to leave.

Garrison waved a hand, unbalancing himself in bed. "Everyone is crazy here. It's like... Six Flags. No, wait, Wonderland. If you're not crazy you'd leave and buy a condo with a little patio and work in marketing."

Jean paused at the door, then let out a soft sigh. She slowly turned around, leaning against the door frame.

"It takes on special meaning when you use it around me," she said quietly. Perhaps she'd let what happened get to her. Perhaps it'd ran her nerves raw. She looked down.

"I'm sorry."

Garrison looked at her owlishly for a moment and held out has hands in a kind of weighing gesture. "Patio. Furniture. Ssh! Don't tell anyone."

Jean shook her head. She had no idea what he was talking about.

"I think I'm going to let you rest."

"Rest of what?"

Jean glanced him over a moment before smiling faintly. "Nevermind," she said, opening the door.

"Sleep now, Canadian Space Cadet. I'll check on you in a few hours."