Jean and Remy, Friday Evening

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean and Remy discuss what happened during the battle with Moreau.



The TV monitor was on in the War Room. Old news footage of the rally and news feeds from Genosha, during, and after the two weeks they had been there played on loop. A lone figure sat among the circle of chairs typing away at her laptop in the dark. The computer monitor illuminated her face in a pale white light. Couldn't work in her own office. Didn't know why. She'd taken a break to hang out with Wanda the night before but there was still a report that needed to be done. Or rather, she wanted it to be done. The sooner, the better. Less ghosts rattling around in her head.

"If they don't move, kill them."

Picking up the remote, Jean paused the button on Jobeth's face just before the trigger was pulled, swallowed, then fast forwarded it to the news report on the riots that followed. She glanced back down at the screen and continued typing.

"You know, dat's probably not healthy." Remy voice came from no where, startling her. It wasn't just that the man moved as silently as a black cat in a moonless night, but he was so mentally quiet that it was just mistaken for the normal psychic background static. He appeared from the back of the room, and took a seat on the other side of the table.

Jean took a breath, shrugging off the way she nearly popped out of her seat when he spoke up by staring just a little too hard at the computer monitor.

"So's smoking. And yet...people still do it," she said, her eyes flickering upward with a faint smile.

"I do better when writing a report when I have visual imagery to stroke my memory." She wasn't there for parts of it but she knew what she was doing when it happened. It helped ground her in time and place.

"Considering de other things dat are more like to kill me, Remy not dat worried 'bout de cigarettes. But I will respect you own issues and not make you breathe de secondhand smoke." He said, leaning back in the chair. "As for de report, how many times you watched it by now? Five? Ten?"

"I'm a doctor, have to make that disclaimer," Jean said, the faint smile still there until his next question made it disappear behind a wall of thought.

"Eight."

Jim told her not to blame herself. No, she blamed the ones who did it this time. The ones who made the call and sent people to their deaths for the sake of a blighted set of ideals that rotted away the very core of a nation. Regardless of who's fault it was there were still hundreds of bodies in the ground, ones she knew, ones she didn't. She didn't want to forget them.

"Tying up loose ends?"

"Trying to. Some are a little trickier den others." His odd coloured gaze caught her. "You know dat immersing youself in what happened means dat you not going to get past it, oui?"

Jean slipped off her glasses. "And trying to completely forget it ever happened is also healthy?" she said.

"I'm the queen of suppression. You know that better than most. Trying to confront my emotions rather than letting them fester and blow up is the way I'm getting past it."

She closed her eyes, letting out a sigh when she realized how snappish that was.

"I'm sorry. I know you're worried. I know everyone's worried about everyone else but I'm getting through, I promise."

"Dat's not entirely what I'm worried 'bout. Figure you got de Boyscout and de Professer to poke 'round dat head if you need help." Remy said. "What I'm concerned 'bout was de firebird."

Something shifted in Jean's eyes, the flicker of realization of a person caught. She glanced away.

"Yeah. That's new," she admitted.

"Non, it's not. Dat's why I wanted to talk to you."

Jean rubbed her forehead. "There was...a problem...with our daisy chain of psionics...Doug had some sort of emotional reaction...I took most of the burden to shield the others from the psionic feedback. The others tried to help him while I went after Moreau with Layla...he pulled a fast one...dropped the floor out...the ocean was underneath. Something changed. It felt like...a snap...or a tug...I panicked."

She let out another breath. "The astral plane is one thing...but for other people to have seen outside of it..."

That was the new thing.

"Just like de first time, when you used it to survive de flood at Alkali Lake." Remy said simply.

"That was not surviving," Jean murmured.

"Semantics aside, de point is dat you aren't really in control of it, are you?"

Jean's attention focused to the screen. The video had looped back around again to the footage from the rally. She listened to the shriek of the police sirens and the crowd.

"No."

"And dat's a problem." Remy sat back, boneless in the chair as he watched her. "I've seen some pretty impressive psionic work. Seen de Professor touch hundreds of minds at once; Nate wit' his flying fire chicken suit, Betsy and her focused totality of her whatever whatever. And I have never seen any normal mutant manifest a psychic signature wit' dat much power. Only thing dat Remy seen in dose levels came from a man wit' a small sun for a brain."

Not knowing what to say to that, Jean just looked at him. The idea of that almost made her...afraid. She didn't know why.

Her eyes flickered down.

"Since I've gotten back I can't...I've tried to--" she trailed off, licking her lips.

"I'm sure dat you have, Jean. But dis is something dat you can't just hope works out. You need to talk to other psions about it and figure out just what dis is. Twice now it's saved you, but what does it do de third or fourth time?" Remy slowly got up. "It might be my people standing wit' you at de time it happens next, and I won't risk dem needlessly."

Jean stared up at him, narrowing her eyes. "You think I want to risk people's lives?"

He always knew just the right thing to say to piss her off. How was that?

"Non, but I do think dat this is 'bout one of de last things in de world dat you want to face. Otherwise, you'd already be in de Professor's office, and not punishing yourself sitting in here watching footage 'bout de people you couldn't save." Her anger rolled off Remy. The Cajun spent his life operating with only the smallest margin between success and death. He had no desire to hurt Jean, but he wasn't going to risk people down the road to give her the time to come to grips with it on her own.

A multitude of excuses popped into Jean's head: Charles had enough to deal with. She had to finish this report. She needed to check on Scott, the students. So many excuses without end but ultimately yes, going to see Charles was the right decision. She was just afraid of what he might say.

"I was going to take myself off active duty for awhile."

Was she unfixable? Would she have to stop being an X-Man? Would she ultimately hurt someone? It'd only happened once before, so briefly she didn't even choose to count it. But then it happened again. And again.

Her next words were soft: "I can't... use my telekinesis anymore without the phoenix showing up. Even the smallest amount."

Remy considered that for a moment. That wasn't good. Grey was a big part of the X-Men; not just in terms of power, but also experience and leadership abilities. Losing her from active duty would punch a huge hole in their lineup. But now the firebird effect was constant? What did it mean?

"Dat's outside of my expertise, Jean." He put his hands flat on the table, leaning on it. "But whatever dis means, you need to find someone to help you understand it."

Jean rubbed her forehead again.

"I know," she said tiredly. Her first thought was the Askani but they were all dead, gone. Something else to ponder while picking up the pieces.

Remy paused and finally nodded. Jean didn't need to be lectured at, and it wasn't as if he had any better idea. "If dere's anything dat we can provide - even some research, let me know. We've got a lot of eyes and ears dat might be able to help."

"Maybe," Jean said. She smiled faintly.

"It's too much to hope that things'll be easily resolved in a neat little package with a bow but I'll at least settle for cautious optimism."

God knows she needed some optimism right now. The alternative was something she didn't want to think about.

"At dis point, Remy think we earned a lucky break or two. Be in touch, Doc." He said, gone as quickly and quietly has he arrived.

"That's assuming you believe in--" Jean glanced up, finding an empty space where Remy 'd once been.

"karma," she finished to herself.

Looking back to the TV a moment, she picked up the remote and turned the DVD and monitor off.