Rachel/Angel - Long distance phone call

[x-eidolon.livejournal.com]

Rachel calls Angelo from Muir, frustrated with having to make decisions about the future. Because Angelo has all the answers. Obviously.



Rachel tapped her foot impatiently against the side of her bed, fingers drumming a random beat on her thigh as she pressed her newly bought phone against her ear.

“Pick up the damn phone, already,” she grumbled, the slow ‘beep’ in her ear indicating that somewhere across the ocean, a phone was ringing insistently, demanding someone’s attention.

"X-Corps", a familiar voice answered - Angelo hadn't known the number on the display, falling back on his usual phone greeting. "How can I help you?"

“By giving me the answer to the meaning of life,” Rachel replied, flopping back on the bed. She rolled over on her stomach and toed off her shoes. “Jells, it’s crazy. My parents are asking all these questions and I’m just like, Jesus fuck how the hell am I supposed to know?!”

"Hey, Rachel. Do you want me to talk to them?" he offered. "Or maybe I can help come up with acceptable answers?"

She huffed. "That depends - do you know what I'm going to do with the rest of my life?"

"...yeah, I'll have a gentle chat with them. They're just trying to deal with things their own way, you know that. In this case, an acceptable answer might be 'trying to figure that out'."

“Obviously I told them that I was thinking about it.” There was a moment of silence. Then, quieter than before: "But what if... What if I wanna know too? I mean, I can't be a useless bum indefinitely. Mum said I should study while I figure it out - bloody hell, Ange. She mentioned the 'A' levels! And you know that means she's expecting me to stay here."

"Ray, that's not a question you're going to be able to answer overnight, and you shouldn't try", he said gently. "You'll figure it out - and if there's something you're interested in, maybe studying isn't such a bad idea. Do you want to stay there?"

“Are you kidding me?” Rachel let out a sound that was somewhere in between a hysterical snort and a wail of despair. “I’m living with my parents. Whom, if I may add, I thought I got killed. Of course I simultaneously love and hate it.”

Whether she expected it or not, seeing Nate and Moira had been a huge relief for Rachel, and a huge weight off her chest. They alternated between spoiling her silly, worrying that something was still not right with her, wondering if they were treating her right and just worrying in general. Or, at least, that’s how it seemed to her. She loved the long walks she took with her father over their ongoing existentialist debate, and took great interest in interrupting her mother’s work just so that she could hang around and be as discreet a distraction while demanding stories about the past.

But every now and then, she saw how they looked at her as though she were six – or should be six. And every corner of the island she was on was chock full of memories of her ‘past’ on an island so similar yet completely different. Already she had had five minor episodes and a reluctant visit with a therapist. It made her restless – being on Muir and being wholly unproductive – and there was a budding urge to get out and go that refused to be ignored.

" - you never told me you thought you got them killed", he said, quietly stunned. "But, anyway... we've got a very fast jet, your mom has another one, and a long-range teleporter. Nate and Moira both used to split their time between the island and here. Nothing says you couldn't do that. But you know if you don't feel you can leave just yet, it's not like we here wouldn't ever talk to you again."

Oops. “It never came up in conversation. And no, Skinny man, you think I’d let you ignore me? Splitting time is good on paper, but makes no sense if I’m not doing anything on either side of the pond. So.” Rachel simultaneously took a deep breath and attempted to make an annoyed sound, but only succeeded in choking on her own saliva.

When she recovered her breath, she said: “I’ve actually thought about this like the rational person I’m occasionally capable of being. So I will explain the main gist of my situation to you before reassuming my dramatic histrionics. Ready? Of course you are.”

“The problems are this: First of all, I cannot stay on Muir. Everything on this fucking island reminds me of Essex’s little world I grew up on. I love my parents, but I have effectively survived without them since I was 13. No matter how much I love having them alive and around, I don’t think my already tenuous sanity can stand living here on anything more than a temporary basis. Trust me, none of us will admit it to each other, but there have been some pretty damn awkward moments here. That said, certain people in New York also evoke bad memories. But somehow they’re easier to deal with when they’re not, you know, my parents.

“Second of all, the only real skills I have are combat and military. I loathe studying. That is not an exaggeration. I really loathe studying. I mean, I’ll do shit if I have to and I supposedly have more than the knowledge equivalent of an American high school graduate.” In most of the necessary subjects, at least. “But. I’d really rather go enlist. Which means that even if I do decide to study because my mama insists on it, I have no clue what I wanna study. And if there is no end-goal in mind, there is really no motivation for me to do one of those general but entirely useless courses.

“Now. Magic away my problems. Or magic me the right answers.” Rachel stretched across the bed for a pen and memopad lying on the bedside table. Actually, she also had awesome doodle skills. “Or failing that, magic me feasible options. Please.”

Angelo had listened patiently to her entire long rant, only contributing vaguely encouraging noises at appropriate moments. It had given him time.

"First, if you try enlisting in any army, your parents will drag you home by the ear and I'll have Doug get you blacklisted everywhere. Second, come work for me. It doesn't have to be office-based, I know you'd hate that as much as studying and X-Corps has many projects.”

Her pen stilled. “Wait, seriously? What kind of projects?”

"Well, for one thing, I'm working on a homeless shelter equipped to take mutants. Most of the mainstream ones will turn mutants away, they say they just can't take the risk on their powers. So with Professor Xavier's backing, I'm making one with reinforced rooms, low-sensory rooms for people like Matt and Kyle, maybe one or two psi-shielded rooms for if anyone needs a break from having those powers, and just general rooms for everyone else... but we have to find the people who need it and get them in so they can get back on their feet. Want to be my rep out on the streets?"

She was quiet and still for a long time. “I could… I mean, yeah. I could definitely run that by my parents. What would I be doing, exactly?”

"Connect with the community. The ones that are out there but invisible. I do what I can, people know me in the District and sometimes they send folks my way, but I've got too much to do to be out there full time - and anywhere, it's a long time since I was in anything like their position. Find them for me. Convince them my shelter is the place they need to be, before they get picked up by somebody worse."

“That’s a great thing you’re doing, Jellybean,” she said, sounding slightly awed. Maybe great was a bit of an understatement. “So this is a job, job right? Not some temporary position that you’re creating just for me? And it doesn’t require formal qualifications? And… I’m still free to do other stuff on the side?”

"Well, I'm creating it for you, but I need somebody to do it and if you choose to leave, I'll have to get a replacement", he said carefully. "No formal qualifications, and you can do whatever you like as long as it's not on my time."

“Huh,” Rachel paused, rolling onto her back. “Well. Wadaya know. You really are the answer to all my problems.”

She was joking, but her tone was more wondering than anything else. The idea was being rolled around in her brain, like the way one would when tasting fine wine, to get the full flavour and complete set of repercussions and effects of actually carrying it out. If that made sense.

“Don’t mention it to the parents yet, though,” she added slowly. “I… wanna think on it a bit more. And stay here a while more.”

"Some of them, anyway, and we can work on the rest in time." He nodded. "Okay. The place won't be completely ready for a little while yet anyway, take as long as you need. And when you're ready to come back, if you don't want to live at the mansion or on my couch, we'll get you a place of your own."

“I’ll figure the rest out, somehow, and maybe bounce ideas off of you again,” she said, because the prospect of being alive in a time of peace and prosperity suddenly didn’t seem as insurmountable as it had a minute ago. “And I won’t be able to afford a place of my own for a while. I guess my parents would be happy to pay, but I think I’d like it a lot better if I paid for stuff myself where possible. They’ve done a lot for me already. As have you.”

Rachel sighed, but it was the most contented sound she had made all day. Then she giggled. “I haven’t had an actual temper tantrum in a while. I feel like a kid again.” It was pretty awesome.

Angelo laughed at her, but it was done with love. "Enjoy it! Everybody should be a kid once in a while, it keeps you young."

“Like you’d know,” she scoffed. “When’s the last time you were completely and asininely a kid?”

"....um." He had to think about that. "Does running off with a sword and smashing up somebody's house after they hurt your dad count?"

“Ma~aybe?” She considered it seriously for a moment, then grinned. “It depends on what you did with that sword. How creative can you get with a sword? Did you TP the place? Draw crude pictures on the wall with spray paint? Put superglue on all the toilet seats?” She paused, then said, “Dude, forget the house. If someone hurt my dad, I’d take that sword and run it right through his goddamn stomach.”

"Mostly I just broke things. And yeah, if she'd been there at the time, it might not just have been her possessions getting destroyed."

“Uh huh. Y’know, I don’t know how ‘acting like a kid’ would lead you straight to thinking about an act of vindictive revenge,” she said, a tad too cheerfully. “But, sure. Whatever floats your boat.”

"I had a very disturbed childhood?" he offered equally lightly. "Besides, kids do vindictive revenge all the time. Just not usually violently."

“But you were talking about the happy kind of ridiculous child-like acts. Like… Like that one time I replaced all of Prof’s DNA samples with glitter glue because he was being an ass. Seriously, I thought he was gonna kill me.”

"True", Angelo allowed. "Well, if we're going there, I... got Forge to help me deconstruct a car and put it back together in Rogue's room?"

“Okay, I’ll give you that.” Rachel sighed again and kicked up her legs, reaching under her pillow for the small knife she had hidden there. She twirled it absentmindedly, fingers deftly juggling the weapon and the pen. “Oh, right. Sooraya dropped by.”

"On Muir?" he asked, surprised. "Maybe she got Clarice to help..."

“I dunno, she didn’t say,” she replied. “She was pretty… concerned, I felt.”

"She does that", Angelo agreed. "It's how she shows she cares."

“Yeah, well. I know she cares,” Rachel wrinkled her nose and flipped the blade into the air, watching it fall blade-down towards her duvet. She snatched it out of the air, an inch from the fabric. “I’m supposed to be her sister.”

"You are her sister", he corrected gently. "Just her sister who was taken away for awhile. She does it to me too, always bringing me food."

“I know that,” she huffed. “I’m just not up to being a sister for a while, you know? Anyway. It’s fine. We’re cool.”

"Okay, good", he said with mild relief. "So what time is it there, anyway?"

“Uh.” Craning her neck up to peer at the clock hanging above her desk, Rachel snorted. “Late. Are you kind of hinting that I should be all tucked into bed?”

"Might be", Angelo said unrepentantly. "But not if you've been having trouble sleeping again."

“When do I not?” She retorted. Well, she knew the answer to that – when she was completely and utterly physically exhausted, when she had had her Korvus to curl up against, when she was drunk out of her mind… “Now I meditate to rest.” And sometimes it worked, but most times actual sleep was negligible. “The psycho I’ve been seeing approves of it.”

"You shouldn't call them psychos", Angelo chided automatically. "Who is it, anyway?"

“Uhm. Something something bespectacled brunette something. From mainland. Yup. Nice chap. Kinda cute if you’re into the whole intellectual nerd thing.” Admittedly, she actually knew her psychiatrist’s name and was being purposefully blasé now. But what’s a little rebellion, feigned carelessness and lack of manners between two siblings? "Just don't tell dad I have a crush on the man. I think he may get twitchy."

He started laughing. "I might have to tell him just to see his face. Unless you think he'd fire the guy."

“He might, who knows,” she grinned. “Then it’d be on your conscience.”

"Well, can't have that if you like this guy and he's actually helping you. If he's not, of course, he's fair game."

She tutted. “Why so bloodthirsty?”

"There will be no blood", he corrected, laughing. "But if the guy's not a good psychiatrist, we need to find you one that is."

“Eh, I dunno,” Rachel blew a raspberry with just her lips. “I gots nothing to compare him to. He’s all right. Mostly it’s just me telling him shit and him telling me that healing takes time. And he makes me do exercises like letting mum take me shopping, spending afternoons swimming in the sea, making small talk with random strangers I meet in elevators, making long distance calls to ask for help… Y’know. That sorta stuff that’s supposed to make me less post-trauma-ey and more maladjusted, anti-social angsty teenager trying to fit in.”

"So all this is a therapy exercise? Well, every little helps. And maybe in the future, we can work on that adjustment too."

“Sorta. What adjustment? He was talking about my inability to ask for help so I figured I’ll prove him wrong and get some solutions to my problems and he said that this would be a fantastic start. Two birds, one stone! I swear I never even hesitated when I called.”

"The maladjustment you just mentioned", he said, amusement audible in his tone. "And I don't think I believe you, but that's okay."

“Oh, what mistrust,” Rachel mocked, but didn’t deny it. “Say, how much are these long distance calls anyways?”

"No idea. But you know your dad'll pay it, it's good for you."

“… Do you have any idea how fucking weird it is to hear something like that?” She said after a long pause, sounding like she was still trying to wrap her head around the thought that she had a dad. “And this was so much easier when I still had my TP.”

"What was, exactly? Cross-ocean communication?"

“Among other things, yeah. Sometimes I feel like my spatial awareness is out of whack too.” There was a muffled complaint Angelo couldn’t have made out as Rachel rolled over on the bed to slip the blade back under the pillow. “Would’ve been funny to scare the shit out of you in the middle of the day too. And you gotta admit - it's hella convenient.”

"Come on, Chis. You think I get scared by random telepathic pings any more, after this long around teeps? But it is convenient, yeah."

“Pfft. You only say that because you haven’t been subjected to having me in your head. I used to drive Scotty and David crazy just waking them up.” There was a pang in her chest as she recalled this, but the pain was getting easier to ignore. She chuckled instead. “Whatever. S’not like I can prove you wrong.”

"Have so. Admittedly, you were about four at the time and all you wanted to do was sing, but still."

She cackled. Actually cackled. “Oh, you’re so adorable.”

"So were you. Don't make me break out the photos to prove it."

“Don’t need to. I have mirrors around here.”

"You'll break them with your big head", he retorted.

“Aww, Jellybean. Don’t be jealous!” She grinned. “Anyhow, since you don’t have a daddy that pays your bills, I shouldn’t keep you on the line much longer. We can do the email thing.”

"I pay my own bills", he says dryly. "Via a very generous employer and your daddy before him. But you should get some sleep anyway."

“Is what I said,” Rachel replied, not bothering to deign his comment about sleep with a response. “Don’t die while I’m away.”

"...what?" That was bemused. "I'm not going to die in New York. Anywhere else, all bets are off, but I'm not planning a trip."

“And who knows what’s gonna come along next and fuck your plans upside down, huh?”

"True. Well, I'll do my best."

“Heh. G’night, Jellybean.”