Log: Matt & Jean | Monday Arrival

[x-daredevil.livejournal.com]

On Monday, Jean meets the newest arrival at Xavier's, Matt Murdock, as he comes to the school straight from rehab



The drive from the rehab center in the city to the school in Westchester where they were going to dump him now was excruciatingly long. It was a little over an hour and half given traffic, but it felt like forever to Matt. He sat in the passenger seat, the vibrations from the older car long since dulled to background noise, but the radio was much too loud for his liking and his social worker refused to turn it down any more. He had a migraine and had already asked for something to make his head stop hurting and had been denied, so now he was sullen. It wasn't perhaps the most mature way to act, but he wasn't a happy camper.

In addition to his head hurting, he was being dumped off at some school in the middle of no where Westchester county. Some school for mutants. Apparently, he was such damaged, unwanted goods that he didn't even rate group homes anymore, but a boarding school for rejects. He hadn't seen his file with child services, of course not, he was blind, but he knew what it said clearly enough in his head. Violent. Drug abuse. Disability. Teenager. He didn't have three strikes against him, he had four. If he was lucky, they'd get the torture over with quickly so he could get dumped somewhere else.

Turning off the road they were on, Matt could feel the road change from underneath him and they continued much slower now. They must be on there then, on the driveway, it didn't sound like they were going through construction. Taking a few deep breathes, he tried to ease the pain in his head even a little, but it was futile. The social worker mistook his actions and patted his shoulder, causing Matt to flinch. "It'll be fine," she assured him, parking the car, "It's a nice place."

Matt didn't reply, just unbuckled his seat belt, grateful at least for that small relief so that his clothes weren't pressed tightly against his body anymore. He was clad in baggy jeans and an over sized long sleeved t-shirt with sneakers. Pushing his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose, Matt got out of the car and stretched. The air was different here. Cleaner. Strange. He was so used to the smog and pollution of New York. Unfolding his cane, he trailed a couple fingers down the length of the car so they could get his stuff out of the trunk.

Jean stood on the front doorstep, having watched the car come up the drive and the two occupants come out. Old and new students were coming more and more in the passing days. There had been some unspoken concern that Xavier's was becoming less and less a school and more of a refuge or base of operations than anything, but the growing number of new students as of late showed perhaps that was not the case.

She studied the boy as she approached. He had had a hard life from what she'd read in the file that had been sent over. Unfortunately that was the case for most. But luckily it made them well suited to help; at least, that was the hope.

"Hello Matt. My name is Dr. Jean Grey-Summers. I am one of the teachers and one of the doctors at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. You can call me Jean, Dr. Jean, or Dr. Grey-Summers. Your choice. I answer to them all," she said, making her smile apparent through her voice.

That name was a mouthful, "Dr. Grey-Summers," he said politely, transferring his cane from his right hand to his left so he could offer her his hand to shake. "Matt Murdock," his voice was laced with the accent of a more working-class Manhattanite, So they'd sent a doctor to meet him. A doctor AND a teacher. Great. She definitely would know his file and all that. "Uh...thanks for taking me," he added awkwardly. There hadn't been anywhere else for him to go, that was what his social worker had sort of hinted at when she had told him about this placement.

Jean smiled to herself. What they wound up calling her the first time was a good indication of personality. The casual and the cavalier chose Jean, the polite chose Dr. Grey-Summers, though many of them eventually decided on the amalgam of the two.

She sensed a weariness to him. Like so many of the others he'd discovered too early just how harsh the world could truly be.

"Nice to meet you, Matt Murdock. Come, I'll show you up to your room. Many of the students have roommates but given your unique circumstance you will have your own room, specially outfitted to help ease the nuances that come with your ability."

She couldn't help but feel a certain kinship, at least in the sense of feeling overwhelmed by one's powers. Had it not been for the Professor, her future would've been very different.

Going back to the car, Matt hefted his duffel bag. It wasn't very big and it was falling apart, but it was his. The rest of his things were in a couple of trash bags. Speaking briefly to his social worker, he pocketed the card she gave him obediently, though he doubted he would call her. Then he hefted the two bags in his left hand so he could continue using his cane with his right and follow the doctor inside.

There was some symbolism there, all his stuff in a couple trash bags. It wasn't like he owned nice things. His clothes were all generally too big and second hand. Fashion was not something he was overly concerned with. "I get my own room?" he repeated, surprised. Specially done up for him? That was really unexpected. "You got that much space?" he asked. Wow. He'd never had his own room.

Jean laughed. "Yep. We've got a whole lot of things you'll get to learn about," she said. Part of what brought her joy was the joy that came from them, that initial, hopeful disbelief that turned into the comfort and sense of safety that only came from being home.

Glancing up to the social worker, she gave her a wave."I'll talk to you later, Elise," she said, then glanced back to Matt, silently studying his 'luggage' for a moment or two before giving him a soft smile.

"Have you eaten yet? If you'd like we get you something to eat once we've put your things in your room."

It was about lunch time...if it were a late lunch. "Okay," Matt agreed. He was hungry, but hadn't eaten much today. His appetite had been all over the place in rehab, but it seemed to be coming back more now and he had been eating better. Of course, when the migraines got too bad, then he didn't want to eat no matter how hungry he was, but they weren't that bad yet. "Uh...can I take your arm?" he asked, That would be the best way for him to follow her.

"Of course, "Jean said as she took a step closer and extended her arm for him to grab.

"Do you need any help with your bags?"

She didn't think him less than capable to carry them given his disability, it was something she would've asked anyone.

Wordlessly, Matt handed her one of the trash bags, then took her arm at the elbow. She was a tall woman. He wasn't short, but she was still taller. He was still growing though, he doubted that she was. "Thanks," he replied. He could handle all his things, but with Jean taking one bag, that helped a lot.

Jean started to walk toward the mansion, taking the first step carefully as to not startle him with the forward motion.

"You're welcome," she said as their feet crunched along faint remnant patches of quickly melting snow.

The walk was fairly quick, the faint whisper of birds chirping among rustling leaves, signaling the advent of spring. There was still a crispness to the air, though it was warm enough not to feel the compulsion to shiver like in passing weeks.

Matt could immediately tell the difference between inside and outside as they went through the front door. The sounds changed, the smells changed and there was no more sun on his face. He didn't need mutant powers to know these things. It was surprisingly quiet though, given that it was a school. Not to say that it was silent, but...definitely quieter than he had expected. "Are there a lot of students?" he asked, a little disconcerted by the lack of everything.

"Not a lot," Jean admitted. "But a few. There are nine of you."

Jean paused just before they got to the stairs. "Your room is on the second floor. We'll be going up two flights of stairs. There's a guardrail about a foot to your right if you'd like something else to hold onto in addition to my arm."

Sometimes, it was hard to resist snarky comments when people thought they were being helpful. This time though, Matt curbed the impulse. The fact was, the assist was needed, even if he didn't want to admit it, "I should be okay just with you," he replied, "Just...walk normally and I'll walk with you," as the ascended the stairs, Matt used his cane to tap each one, counting them. He'd have to do it again later, but this was a good start. "Only nine!? That's like...nothing! Any other freshmen at least?"

Jean started up the stairs, walking normally with a half-step slower than she normally would.

"We have a seventh grader and a sophomore. You're the only freshman. The rest are juniors and seniors. Given the specialization of the school, the age range and education level can often vary," Jean said as they reached the first floor, then started up on the staircase leading towards the second.

Matt wrinkled his nose at that. On the one hand, it meant one on one attention, which was definitely better for him. On the other, it meant there was no one to consult on homework. "Ah," Matt replied, like he understood. He didn't entirely. "Well, I guess that makes sense if there're only 9 students," he agreed. "This place is really big."

"We try group as many of the classes together as we can. With the younger students it can be difficult, but we are used to making it work," Jean said with a smile.

She nodded. "It is, but after awhile, hopefully it'll feel like home."

Home. Ha! Matt hadn't had a place that felt like that since his father had died. Sure, he had places he called 'home' and he slept there, but were they really home? A safe place where he could go and be loved and accepted and all that? No. Not at all. "Sure," he agreed dutifully, humouring her. "Guess it makes sense that I get my own room if there are only nine students. Any of them cute?"

Jean knew it was a big stretch for some of them, the abused, the neglected. But she hoped eventually he would indeed come to feel at least like somewhere he felt safe.

They reached the second floor, and Jean headed toward the end of the hall, toward a door marked' 5.' She paused a moment to laugh.

"I wouldn't know. I guess that'd be up to you to determine yourself."

The glanced toward the door as it opened on its own.

"Here we are, suite number 5."

Well. That was unhelpful. "Uh huh," Matt replied, she needed to do more than just leave him at the door. "So...what?"

Jean hadn't intended on leaving him at the door. She had merely announced that they had arrived at their destination.

"So now we go in," she said with a smirk as she stepped inside.

Was the entire suite soundproofed? Or at least, lowered? Matt could hear a difference, things were quieter now than before. "Whoa," he breathed. He could hear Jean of course, but the other random noises that always assaulted him were...gone. Wow. "This place is soundproofed?" he asked.

Jean couldn't help but smile.

"Yep. Like I said, modified especially for you."

Dropping his stuff and not caring if it was in the middle of the floor and he might trip over it later, Matt slowly began to move around, exploring the living area. Hands moving over furniture and the walls. He did not care about finger or hand prints. Coming to a door, he paused, "Is this room mine?"

"That's the closet, and yes, everything in this room is yours," Jean said as she set down the bag he'd given her on top of his dresser. She leaned against the door frame as she watched him.

"It's fully furnished. Bed, desk, dresser. But if you need anything else, please let us know."

She knew it probably had to be a huge adjustment, so she waited there for awhile, to give him time to take things in.

"Whoa," Matt repeated, trying not to sound as overwhelmed as he was. This room was easily as big as his father's bedroom in their old apartment. He'd slept on the couch pretty much his entire life there and even in foster care, a room this size would normally have at least one more kid in it. Maybe two. "It's cool," he pronounced, remembering that he was a bad ass and this was not possibly one of the best things in his life, ever. Nope. Opening the closet door, he felt around in there too.

Jean smiled. He seemed to have a similar defense mechanism as a lot of the students did when they came: pretending to downplay their excitement.

"Are you ready to get something to eat? We've got sandwiches, though I think there may be some left over lasagna from last night."

"Sure," Matt agreed, almost tripping over his things, then tossing it all on his bed so he wouldn't do that again. Once that was out of the way, he pushed his glasses up on his nose. He was hungry, though with the rehab and detox and everything for the pain pills, his appetite hadn't been the best. He'd lost weight too, but the doctors said it was okay, he would gain it back.

Jean walked over and extended her arm.

"My arm's right in front of you if you'd like to grab it. Hopefully the students haven't remembered the lasagna and devoured it between now and then. Food, especially the the sweet stuff, has a tendency to disappear around here. Though we usually know the culprits."

That brought up an important question, "What time are meal times?" he asked, taking Jean's arm again and then moving his hand so that he was holding her shoulder. That was the most comfortable way for him to follow someone, "And what is the policy on snacks? And lights out?" The important rules everyone needed to know to live in a place like this. And to break them.

"We're pretty lax on meal times and snacks. There's usually food in the fridge, so whenever you're hungry. But a lot of people usually congregate around 7 or 8 am for breakfast, noon for lunch, and 6 pm for dinner," Jean said as she started to walk.

"We would like students to be in bed by 9 pm , though they quickly learn to go to bed around this time when they have to get up by 7 am to get ready for breakfast and classes," she said. The ones who asked questions like that were either very obedient, or the opposite.

Given that Matt had spent the past few years in foster care or in places like juvenile hall or rehab where things like meal times were set in stone and not flexible, it was a valid thing to ask, "Really? Huh. Okay," the times for the meals made sense, but it was strange to him not to have fixed times for them for everyone to be there. Living here was going to be a lot more like when he lived with his father and he was responsible for a lot more than merely showing up at the specified time. "What about weekends?"

"The food times remain the same, and we prefer that the students adhere to the same time during the week to go to bed but we'll give an hour or so leeway if its really hard for them to go to sleep," Jean said with a bit of a smile to her voice as she led him back down the stairs.

She knew it was hard for her to sleep at the regular time too on the weekends especially when there wasn't class. In fact she was one of the usual troublemakers in that regard around his age.

"Alright," Matt agreed easily. He rarely fell asleep that early, but that did not mean that he wouldn't be quiet with the lights at the time the school wanted. He tried to read his bible every night and that was a good time to do it. The rules here seemed decent. "I can handle that." And if he didn't like it, well...the dark never bothered him. He'd find other things to do in it without a problem.

They had already made it around to the second set of stairs while they were talking, and the main floor was pretty close. Jean had been grading most of the morning and was hungry herself.

"Are you in the mood for a sandwich or lasagna? It's still pretty good the second time around. We also have a few varieties of soup and I think a couple of boxes of macaroni and cheese left," Jean said. That reminded her that they probably needed to make a grocery store run soon. With that many people to feed on a daily basis, supplies went low fairly quickly.

"Whatever you're having," Matt replied, "So long as it's not spicy. I'm not a fan of spicy," he added. It was his damned senses again. It was annoying. This place seemed alright. It smelled decent at least, that was a good start and Jean was nice. Maybe...maybe he could tolerate this place for a little bit.