xp_logs | Charles and Jean (backdated)

Even the strongest people can break. Jean sees Charles after Genosha.

It was strange, how quickly things settled down to something resembling normal, Charles reflected as he sat behind his desk. But instead of doing work, he had turned the chair to face the window and was looking out across the grounds, where the occasional resident could be seen passing by. Convincing himself that yes, all had returned to as close to normal as they could get, or at least the process had begun.

Pausing a moment, Jean lightly knocked on the door. She knew he would've sensed her first, though. He always did. She'd tried to give him some space since she got back, through it was mostly for herself than anything. A lot to process. People to see. So many things to take care of in the aftermath.

~Come in, Jean,~ came his mental reply - she was someone he had no qualms in speaking to telepathically. His mental "voice" sounded weary and when she opened the door, it might have been startling to see how much the Professor had aged over the last month. But still, he smiled as he turned to greet his first student. "Tea?"

Jean studied him a moment, but said nothing, save for a soft smile back followed by "Yes please. The usual," she said.

Earl Grey, hot, two sugars, splash of milk. Her father liked to joke that they were related to the original Earl.

She sat down beside him in the small seating area next to his desk and didn't presume to ask him how he was. She knew how he was. The weight of things showed in his eyes.

He made the tea with movements made smooth by habit and practice, the small ritual doing as much to soothe him as the liquid itself. The slight tremble of his hands as he added Jean's sugar that caused him to spill the white grains across the saucer was a giveaway that perhaps he wasn't as calm as he presented.

Jean reached out, gently putting her hand over his. "Charles?" she said gently, glancing him over.

"Talk to me."

~Always so observant, Jean.~ Charles stopped what he was doing and grasped her fingers. "I am so, so sorry, Jean. All of this, what happened to the children, the beatings, Rachel..." His voice choked up on the name. "It is my fault."

Rising from her chair, Jean walked around and crouched down in front of him. "No," she said, taking his hands in her own.

"No, Charles. It was their fault and theirs alone. You cannot blame yourself for the actions of evil men. If we hadn't stopped them who knows what they would've done? What they would still be doing? turning mutants into mindless slaves...killing those who would dare speak out. They took our children, our friends, our family because they knew it would hurt us.

"They knew just what to use to get us to try to back down, but we didn't. We stood up to them when others didn't because what they were doing was wrong . They knew it. Otherwise they wouldn't have tried to cover it up by trying to scare us into silence. And my heart aches that the children got caught up in this and....for our losses, but I am not sorry that we got our family back and the thousands of people alive today because of us, mutants and humans alike. We saved a nation. Because we refused to turn our head when others did."

She searched his eyes.

"You are a great man. The best I have ever known. They did this because they saw the good in you too. Mourn, but don't blame yourself for the actions of others. Please."

"They targeted us because I made us a target. Everything we've done, the X-Men, India, Budapest... Am I really so arrogant to believe I know better? That I have the right to impose my beliefs on a whole nation?" The anguish in his voice was the anguish of too many hours holding vigil, not expecting to see his people again. "Especially when I am not the one paying the price?"

Jean shook her head. "And David Moreau had the right to do what he did? You are not arrogant to want to make a difference," she said, reaching up to gently touch his face.

"The world needs voices that say 'no more' when the world averts its eyes to the evil that men can do. It's hard, it will always be hard, but is is worth doing."

Charles let out a shuddering breath as she touched him, his hand coming up to grip hers tightly. "I want to believe that," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "I need to believe that."

It was hard for Jean to see the man she cared so much for, the man she saw in many ways like a father, so shaken.

"Then believe. Because I do. I believe in the very core of my being that what we are doing is right. We were dealt a heavy blow but we'll get through it...You and I...all of us...together," she said with a smile.

"And when I can't, you will believe for me," he replied with a smile of his own, weak as it was. Tears stood in those piercing blue eyes. "I was so afraid, Jean. I thought I'd sent you all to your deaths, or worse. And the children..."

"But you didn't," Jean said, grabbing his hand, holding it tightly. "I know we still lost Rachel..and that is a hard thing to think about...but there are so many people, including the children, who are alive because of what we did. If we didn't get them out it could've been so much worse."

Rachel. That bright mind extinguished forever. Charles' control, already in tatters, cracked then and he bowed his head, the tears escaping as he held onto Jean's hand. He didn't make a sound, but his shoulders shook, heaving with the force of his emotions.

Jean closed her eyes, rising slightly off the ground so she could wrap her arms around him. The sight of his tears forced her own to well up but she ignored them, more concentrated on her mentor.

She said nothing for awhile, not sure what to say. She didn't have all the answers. She wished she did.