Haller/Jean: Ripples (Backdated)

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean comes to Haller for help with Vanessa.



Jean pulled her jacket around her more tightly as she opened up the door leading to the roof after meeting a blast of air. She'd sensed Jim up there, and actually preferred this place to talk to anywhere else. It was quieter. A better place to think.

"Hi there," Jean said.

Jim turned from his idle view of the lake, raising his eyebrows when he saw who it was. He plucked the cigarette from his lips and tapped it into the empty soda he'd drafted into ash-tray duty.

"Jean?" A frown developed as he took in the tired look of her face and the set of her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Jean rubbed her forehead. She chose to ignore the question at first, staring out over the mansion grounds.

"As a doctor I'm required to say smoking will kill you," she said with a faint smile before sitting down beside him. Fall was setting upon them like fire spreading across a match head.

"But most of the time you know that," she said. She wasn't wearing her doctor's jacket, just a grey sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans. It was the first time she'd been sighted by most without her jacket.

"Sorry, I need a minute before I get to the nitty gritty."

"It's okay." Jim gave her a slight smile as he snuffed the cigarette and dropped it into the can. He rubbed his hands together, using the act as an excuse to spare her direct eye contact. "And what can I say. Smoking is David's apology for killing Jemail before the lung cancer could set in."

Jean fell silent again, her breath misting in the air. It was peaceful up there. From a figurative standpoint it was almost heaven, with the basement being the proverbial hell.

She slowly looked over. "I need your help in a counseling capacity. Not for me, but...for someone else."

Jim regarded her for a moment, then nodded. "A student?"

"No..." Jean said, shaking her head. "Vanessa. She seems to be exhibiting post traumatic stress disorder after her ordeal."

Jean stared up at the moon. "She also happens to think I'm evil. Words were exchanged. I took myself off the case."

"I see." He studied her profile for a moment and said, "Taking yourself off -- that's probably for the best. It's hard to treat people you care about." He tilted his head, watching her. "Sick people say things they don't mean."

"I know," Jean said softly. "And I normally would've been more understanding but...I just couldn't do it. I know she'll need someone, though. And I know your specialty is children but I don't think she'd trust seeing Nathan's doctor in the city."

Jim nodded. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened to Vanessa in the months she'd been gone, but anything that had left her in the shape to require both Laura's healing factor and a medically-induced coma couldn't have left her in good shape. Perhaps her reaction to Jean had been due to disorientation and lack of opportunity to fully process what she'd been through. If not . . . well, maybe it was better for her friends to step back for a while. "I don't know if she'll respond to me, but I can try," the telepath replied. He worked his chapped fingers gently and slid his two-colored gaze towards the redhead. "And you?" he asked quietly. "Do you have anyone?"

The tenseness seemed to drain from Jean's shoulders. "Thank you," she said. It was some relief, albeit a cautious one. She wasn't expecting a miracle but it was hope.

Jean stared down at Jim's hand on hers. "Anyone to talk to, you mean?" she said

Jim gave her a lopsided smile. "Yeah. I hear it's helpful."

With a laugh, Jean reached over and squeezed Jim's hand. "Professionally, no. Friendwise...A small list seems to be amassing. Triumph through adversity I suppose," she said with a glimmer of something in her eyes attached to the smile.

"That's good." He released her hand, and the smile he flashed her was brief but sincere. Though it had been months since the encounter with Matthews, some wounds were slow to heal. Jean, he suspected, was still in danger of reopening her wounds.

"I'll see what I can do about Vanessa," Jim said, rubbing his hands together. "Don't worry about it. If that doesn't work, maybe the professor can help. We have options."

Jean let out a weary breath. "I just want my friend back. I know why she's going through this....I'm just tired of seeing the people I care about like that. I just want it over," she said. It felt like the same song, the same verse. She knew they'd get through it. Still.

"I wanted to kill the men who did it. Or at least, the thought crossed my mind but...instead I just saw myself through a haze. Numb, blindly working toward resolution. I should've let Hank go, but I think she probably would've had the same reaction."

"Probably," Jim agreed. "And, well . . . when it's your friend, there are worse things than dissociating. It's the brain's way of saving you from being overwhelmed." His tone turned wry. "Just remember to get out of it before the dissociation forms its own opinions."

"I think we're both already a little too late there," Jean said with a faint smirk. "Stepping back will be better for everyone in the long run. She'll be in good hands with you and/or the Professor and Hank."

Everyone needed time to process what happened.