Jean and Adrienne: Nothing but the Truth (BACKDATED)

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Adrienne reveals her former addiction to Jean, who in turn tells her something about herself.

(Trigger Warning)


After a nap on Jean-Paul's couch, Adrienne felt much better- emotionally at least. Physically, not so much. The hangover was in full force. She was hoping to combat it with greasy food, one of the time-honoured hangover cures. Having spent all her money the night before, she headed towards the kitchen in hopes that she still had some groceries she could fry in some way. Greasy breakfast, please be available to me, she thought to herself. Please say I have eggs and potatoes to make hash browns I can cook in grease to cure myself of this deadly hangover. Because where normally I would be going to the diner or something, I blew all my money on that damn coke last night, so if I still had some food in the kitchen that would be really great.

Jean stood near the toaster, hands resting on her hips as she silently willed the two pieces of English muffin she'd popped in to get toasted a little faster. Unfortunately there wasn't much telekinesis could do beyond cut it into little pieces. She'd taken to wandering over to the fridge and pulling out a jar of jelly when Adrienne's thoughts came blaring in.

"Good morning," she smiled. "Rough night I take it?"

"Uggggh. You have no idea," Adrienne muttered darkly. "Or wait, maybe you do," she added with a wan chuckle, and made a conscious effort to put up her mental shields. "Sorry, I'm probably thinking pretty loud right now." Shit, I've probably been thinking pretty loudly for a while now, especially when I first realized what I'd done, she thought to herself, which didn't really help her plan to stop thinking so loudly. Instead, she turned to her default nervous position- rambling. "'Went on a bit of a bender with Garrison last night and things got a little pear-shaped. What does that even mean, pear-shaped? Why do people equate that with things being shitty? Pears aren't shitty. Why is their shape synonymous with really bad things happening?"

"Imbalance maybe?" Jean said. That was a good question. She shook her head, noticing her increasing uncomfortableness about the idea of her thoughts being read. It was a habit that usually came with guilt about something, and judging by the last bit about what she'd 'done' it gave her pause.

"I try not to listen if I can help it. But if you're having trouble with something I'd be glad to listen to whatever you feel comfortable to tell me."

For a split second Adrienne considered telling Jean everything was fine and to mind her own business, but before she could even really register it, it was gone. Things weren't fine, not really, and she wasn't going to sweep them under the rug and pretend everything was coming up roses. That was the coward's way out, the response of a lonely woman drowning under the weight of her own problems who couldn't depend on anyone and lived in constant fear. Adrienne was not that woman anymore. And she and Jean had become... close, since Adrienne had come back. Wouldn't it be pretty insulting to shut her out now?

"I'm not really having trouble, persay," she admitted with a shrug, rooting around in the fridge. "At least, not in the legal or public or even decision-making sense, since I already know what I've gotta do. I... actually, this might not be the best public-place conversation," she murmured.

Jean tilted her head as her English muffins popped up from the toaster like their own interjection. She gave Adrienne a simple nod. "I'm free for lunch if you'd like to continue then. We could go to Fat Tony's. Maybe...11:30?"

"As long as you're buying," Adrienne answered.

The two pieces of English muffin landed neatly on a plate, Jean smirked. "If you insist."

~~~

Since Adrienne was even less likely to talk to Jean in a very public pizza parlour on a Saturday at lunchtime than she was to talk in the mansion's kitchen, she and Jean had ordered their pizza and were eating it in the car. "So what makes you think I'm having trouble with something?" she asked by way of preamble.

Jean carefully examined her pizza like she would a patient. There was enough cheese to have come from two cows.

"If you weren't we would've been having our lunch in the usual booth inside. Whatever it is, it's enough to call for use of private places that even the mansion isn't considered safe," she said.

There were more clues than just her thoughts.

"Also, you fidget when you're nervous."

"You should see me playing poker," Adrienne muttered, taking a bite of her own slice of pizza. "It's not that the mansion's not safe. I'm not like, trying to hide anything, specifically. But I don't really want the students finding out, either." Just like ripping off a band-aid, she thought to herself. Just do it fast, all at once. "I'm a recovering addict. Cocaine. I've been clean for fifteen years, but... last night, I was really drunk, not completely in control of my faculties, feeling awkward, a lot of tension between Garrison and I, so... I bought some cocaine. I didn't use any, and I flushed it this morning. But the idea that I bought it in the first place is enough to have me looking into the next Narcotics Anonymous meeting near here."

Jean fell silent for a moment, setting the container that had the pizza in it in her lap. She finally nodded. She was surprised but didn't think less of her. People made their mistakes.

"You've been under a lot of stress lately, with your return and Vanessa's disappearance and rescue. What happened with Garrison might have been the deciding factor. But...the fact that you stopped yourself...that you recognize you don't want to do it again and immediately want to get help for it...That is the difference between yourself now and who you were fifteen years ago. You're better. You've grown," Jean said.

She glanced over and smiled. "And if you ever need me I'm here."

Adrienne bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed with the support Jean was giving her. "Thanks. I... I really appreciate that. It makes things easier, y'know... knowing that people know." She gave Jean a wry laugh. "If only I'd figured that out fifteen years ago, huh? But, better late than never." She chewed on her pizza thoughtfully.

Jean lifted her head from the seat. "Sometimes you have to hit bottom to know that you can rise from it," she said. She paused a moment.

"Too much platitude?"

Laughing, Adrienne shook her head. "I live for platitudes. Especially when they actually make sense. You wanna go back in the pizza place? Or head to Coffee Quake for a latte or something?"

"I could go for either," Jean said, nodding.

"Though the smell of marinara was a little strong this time around for some reason. I think someone must've dropped some," she mused, studying the people as they passed on the street from their place in Fat Tony's parking lot.

"Thank you for telling me, by the way. It must've taken a lot."

There was something behind her eyes, a look of contemplation that seemed to extend beyond their conversation: the need to make a decision on something.

"I vote latte then," Adrienne nodded. She finished her pizza, then started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "Why wouldn't I tell you? I mean. we're... we're friends, right? I thought..." Had she misinterpreted everything between herself and Jean?

Jean paused, blinking at her with confusion at first before she suddenly laughed. "No...No! Of course we're friends," she said, a nod added to the end for emphasis.

Her fingers traced the hem of her jacket, keenly focusing on it.

"There's something I hadn't told you. Well...not a lot of people know."

"What's up?" Adrienne asked curiously.

Jean swallowed. Her mouth felt dry, as did her lips. In that moment, Adrienne's question almost made her unable to continue. It hadn't been easy, per se, with Warren. It had felt right then, perhaps by some convergence of circumstances. But he was the only one she had told of her own volition. The rest had been under far more different circumstances.

In that moment she had been struck silent. But Adrienne had told her her own secrets, dark ones. Ones she could've kept to herself. It was that trust between friends. One she valued.

Still, finding the words to speak was rather like trying to waltz through quicksand.

"I don't...I don't know how to begin."

Adrienne nodded in understanding as she drove to Coffee Quake and parked the car. "I... I guess you start by reminding yourself that... the person you're telling... cares about you and would... never tell anyone... and, umm, you remind yourself of why exactly you want to tell what you want to tell, I guess?"

Jean glanced over. She managed a smile before glancing down.

"Because...I want you know...why I feel the way I do. It's not that I think you will tell, it's just...hard to tell. It's...something I haven't even told Scott yet. When he should know over anyone."

Hazel eyes went wide as Adrienne glanced over at Jean. "Affair?" was all she said, in as much of a non-judgmental voice as she could.

It was evident that Adrienne was very good at surprising Jean judging by the way she made her blink owlishly at her for the second time in only a few minutes. It was a small mercy that she had not just taken a drink or a bite at that moment.

"God no," she said quickly, shaking her head.

She loved Scott and always had, rationally and irrationally, but that was what love was. It was a feeling that was both of those things all at the same time. It was what people died for--and lived for, a singular emotion that could cause so many things, good and bad.

As a few rain droplets tapped against the car windows like a child begging to get in, Jean reached out to press her hand against the glass, her index finger following the trickle of water as it slid down.

"When I was in California I discovered I was pregnant," she said softly.

"Five months later...there was a riot at a concert...human verses mutant...we tried to stop them. One of the rioters kicked me. He didn't know."

She pulled her hand away from the glass, resting it gently on her stomach.

"I shouldn't have gone. But I wasn't thinking, not about me. All I thought was...'I can make a difference. I can help,'" she said, lowering her eyes.

Adrienne tried not to let the shock show on her face- not shock over what Jean had told her, but the fact that Jean had told her, which meant that she now had to say something back. Something comforting and helpful. Two things which were definitely not in Adrienne's wheelhouse. "Well... I'm sure you did help," she offered in a hopeful tone. "You probably saved some lives by being there. It just... It's... I'm so sorry that happened to you while... while you were there." Damn, she sucked at this. Was she supposed to hug Jean now? She tried a sympathetic smile instead. "I... I get why you don't want to tell Scott." She actually didn't get it at all, but that didn't seem like the right thing to say. The only thing she really had in her arsenal was, "I'm so sorry." And then she thought of something else. "Are you... okay, though? I mean... you can still... have kids?"

It was hard not to listen but she'd managed that much. Still, Jean could feel the tinges of helpless panic bleed through. She nodded to herself, then lifted her chin.

"Most likely," Jean said with a soft, steady smile. It was the one she gave to patients or students, so not to spook them anymore than she needed to. She was used to the deer in the headlights look, be it an impending medical diagnosis or test. It usually tended to put them at ease, at least a little.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. "

Perhaps it'd been too soon after what Adrienne herself had been through, or not even a good idea at all. It was nothing against Adrienne herself but it was just something to know when choosing to volunteer information. There were just some things not to be brought up. And that was okay. Everyone was different.

"They have this Amaretto coffee at Coffee Quake that's almost sinful," she continued on, barely skipping a beat as she switched from one conversation to another in stride. She didn't want to stress Adrienne out any more than she had already.

"Though I haven't quite had coffee and pizza in combination before."

"Oh! No," Adrienne replied quickly, eyes wide again. Shit, she'd screwed that up! "No, you didn't make me uncomfortable! Well, I mean, maybe you did, but it wasn't... y'know, you, it was more that... I want to say the right thing and be... a friend, like you've been to me, but I have no idea how to be one. Heart-to-heart talks are something I have barely any experience in," she admitted, playing with her pizza carton distractedly. "I don't know how to make people feel better, and I hate that about myself. I want to make you feel better, because to have something like that happen to you... I can't even imagine. And then to come to a school where you're around kids all day, having something like that on your shoulders... it must be awful."

"I don't mind them," Jean said, shaking her head. "They're young...teenagers..but not too young."

She drew in a breath. "Though sometimes being around Molly can be hard. But I got used to it. I got...more protective of them all. For better or worse. With Scott and I...The idea of a child was so foreign. We'd talked about it, both of us...back and forth on the idea, wondering if it would be a good idea to bring someone into a world that was more likely than not going to be a mutant, with the risk that they might be hated and feared like us. And when it happened...I..had just been getting used to the idea...I suppose that's why it hit me the most. And for him to be gone, it made it easier not to tell him, without having to look at him....because if I didn't see him I didn't see what I'd lost. Or picture the look in his eyes when I tell him," she said.

"It's complicated."

"I bet it is," Adrienne agreed, nodding. As hellish as her own marriage had been, she was still able, almost in spite of herself, to think back to those very early days when Steven had meant everything to her and what it would have felt like to have to tell him something like that. Having kids would have never entered her own mind back then, either, but she understood even more because of that what Jean meant by saying that it had hit her the most because she'd just been getting used to the idea. For a moment she balled her nails into her palms, wishing she could give a few kicks to the man who had done that to Jean. "I think I understand even more now why you were so concerned for the safety of the students a few weeks ago," she added sympathetically, referencing Vanessa's awakening and paranoia and how it had affected Jean. "Do you have a plan for telling Scott, or are you going to wait for an opportunity?" she inquired casually.

Jean looked away, shaking her head. "No plan. I don't even know where to begin.Telling you...it was hard enough...But I...telling him...telling him that we almost had a child..." She felt a hard lump in her throat and closed her eyes. "...It makes it real."

Quiet for a few moments, Adrienne finally nodded. "Well, when you're ready to tell him, you'll tell him." She reached a hand out and put it over one of Jean's. "You're strong enough to get through telling him, even though it's gonna be hard. And I'm..." What was it Jean had said to her? "If you ever need me, I'm here." It was a scary thought, being there for someone to help them through something awful like this, but it was sort of nice, too.

Jean's eyes opened when she felt Adrienne's hand over hers. She turned her hand over, then squeezed Adrienne's gently.

"Thank you," she said, smiling softly. It sounded like it took a lot for her to say. "That means a lot."

She looked down at their hands. It was good preparation, their talk. The conversation with Scott would be undeniably different...she didn't know how she'd fare when it came to that. But it was a start.

Her eyes flickered up toward the coffeeshop. "Do you want to still go inside?"

Adrienne squeezed Jean's hand back and laughed at the question. "Are you joking? Until I stop feeling so shaky, I have to give up smoking, drinking, and even tylenol for headaches. Coffee's pretty much the only mood-altering thing I'm still allowed to have, I'm not passing up any opportunity to drink it!"

Jean laughed back, resting her chin in her free hand.. "So a gallon full of coffee, then?" she said. The smile faded to that of a thoughtful look as she fell silent for a few moments.

"I know this should go without saying but...please careful around Matt. He's on his own road to recovery. I know you will but...I have to say it. I can't not."

A pissy retort was right on the tip of Adrienne's tongue, probably something along the lines of 'what the hell happened to me being different now from who I was fifteen years ago, that I'm better and I've grown?' but she remembered the connection she'd just made to Jean losing her baby and being overprotective of the students, so she let it go. "Yeaaah, you have to say it. It's fine. Even if I wasn't being careful, at least now I have people keeping eyes on me to make sure I'm careful, right? It won't be necessary, but at least I have my bases covered, cuz I know you or Jean-Paul will kick my ass if I screw up."

Jean nodded. "Jean-Paul and I will march you down to Betty Ford arm in arm if need be," she said, managing another smile, this one a bit fainter.

"I'm sorry...I know you're stronger than that. I just..." she let out a breath, shaking her head with a laugh. "...apparently cannot go longer than periods of a few days without saying something that causes me to put my foot in my mouth."

"Don't apologize!" Adrienne said in a faux-exasperated tone, waving Jean's apology away. "You're just looking out for everyone, it's totally fine. Hey, it's good that you're looking out for everyone. Really. I appreciate it, and I'm sure Matt would appreciate it." But she was stronger than that, and she was glad Jean had said it so she didn't have to point it out. "And I fully support you and Jean-Paul marching me to rehab arm-in-arm," she assured her friend. "I'm pretty sure you can't check people in against their will but since you're a telepath you guys would be set, right?" she smirked. "I should really sign something that says 'I give Jean Grey-Summers permission to puppet my drug-addled body to get me to rehab should the circumstance ever arise.'"

Jean shook her head. "I would never do that," she said. Even when Vanessa wasn't in her right mind she wouldn't do that. She wouldn't betray a person's trust like that. The mind was a sacred place. And mucking around in its most fragile state wasn't good, not unless she had absolutely good reason to. And it had to be a damn good reason.

"Now telekinetically...that's an entirely different issue."

Adrienne laughed and looked down at her arms as if Jean might suddenly puppet them so they moved without her making them. "Okay, I give you permission to telekinetically move me to rehab if the need should ever arise," she grinned. "But if you make me do the moonwalk or Macarena or anything you'd best throw me in front of a bus because if I ever get my body back I'll kill you."

Jean shrugged nonchalantly. "Been there, done that," she said with a wry smile.

"Bring it on."

"That was a hologram Macarena," Adrienne scoffed, assuming that was what Jean meant. "But if that counts as 'been there, done that,' I won't complain!"

Jean tilted her head at her curiously. for a moment. "Not quite what I meant," she said. She was assuming Adrienne'd known. Was it possible she didn't?

"You've thrown someone under a bus?" Adrienne asked quizzically, still assuming Jean was joking around.

The pizza box went down in the floor boards, as Jean didn't feel much like eating, too distracted. It was probably cold anyway. She glanced over after moment.

"I died. Sort of."

Adrienne looked at Jean with a hopeful smile. "You mean like... passed out in a pool and was given mouth-to-mouth by a hot lifeguard?"

Jean smiled back softly.

"Not quite," she said, then rubbed her forehead. "I think that might be a story for another time, actually, if you don't mind. It's been...a rather eventful day."

She didn't want the woman's head to explode and the both of them had been forthcoming with enough information to fuel a week of soap opera episodes. She herself was starting to get a headache.

"It has at that," Adrienne agreed with a rueful smile. "There's always another time. I think we both deserve some cake or ice cream or something after all this emotional purging or whatever it is we've been doing. Isn't that what I see happen in the movies?"

"Either that or beer. Though usually in the the movies I suppose it happens after a lots of beer is consumed," Jean mused.

"So let us eat cake. Or pie. I think CoffeeQuake carries some type of sweets."