Laurie and Gabriel | Help Not Wanted (backdated)

[x-velocidad.livejournal.com]

Prompted by Gabriel's cryptic journal post, Laurie comes to offer Gabriel unwanted advice and assistance. He tells her about spotting new Clint.

Laurie knocked on Gabriel's door, wondering if he would even answer. She'd been so wrapped up in her own issues recently that she hadn't paid much attention to the rest of the mansion. When she'd seen his journal post, she had to come see him.

Clint wouldn't have wanted him to do this to himself, no matter that his death was the cause.

Inside his suite, Gabriel sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. A Dog Cops marathon had been playing, but he muted it upon hearing the knock. He sat still for a moment, hoping he could fool his unwanted visitor into thinking he wasn't here. Another knock came, and he grunted. "Go away," he called out.

"Clint would make frowny faces at me if he knew I was leaving his best guy to stew in his own misery," Laurie noted, leaning against the wall beside Gabriel's door. "So your answer, in case that wasn't clear, is no, I will not go away."

"Suit yourself." Gabriel stared at the TV. He didn't honestly care if this woman he barely knew squatted outside his door for a year. He turned the volume back up just in time for a commercial break. That figured.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I can convince Kyle to take this door off by telling him I think you're dying in there. He'd be upset at me afterwards, but I'm willing to play dirty pool if you make me."

Laurie examined her nails as she leaned, muttering to herself about the fact that she needed to get them seen to again. Scratch that, needed someone else to see to them. She was pretty sure that trying to paint fingernails by using her feet would be a disaster of epic proportions.

"Uh, excuse me?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "I'm not making you do anything. There are plenty of other people around here for you to play Mary Poppins to or whatever. I'm not one of them."

"Of course not, you're just the only one locking yourself in a room and basically forcing people to put up with your tragic bullshit. It's not like Scott didn't also lose his wife, or Rogue all her memories. It's not like nobody else ever lost anything in the history of the world. But you know, it's fine that you make cryptic posts to the message boards and tempt the world to fall apart again. It's great that you go on a bender for weeks and make your friends worry about you, when the last damn thing they need right now is to worry when they're so hurt."

Laurie hadn't realized she was so angry, she hadn't given herself much time to think or feel about anything that had happened. There was so much to do, so many people to worry about that the very idea of someone refusing help, refusing to do what needed to be done to move on made her see red. It wasn't really Gabriel's fault, or his responsibility when it came right down to it, but he was the one in front of her and so he got the result.

"Oh, fuck off." Gabriel rolled his eyes. Still, he wasn't having this conversation through the door. Not if she was going to loudly hurl somewhat unfounded accusations at him. So he tossed the blanket aside, sped over to the door and unlocked it.

"I was gone for three days," he said as he opened it. "People knew I was alive. I've been back for a week, much of which I've been sober for. And I've talked to Scott and Rogue." He turned his back on her, returning to his spot on the sofa. "So don't act like I'm being an insensitive asshole."

"You are an insensitive asshole, but then so am I. Guess Clint liked to collect them," Laurie replied, closing the door behind her as she moved into the suite.

She sighed, and moved to open the curtains, letting light into the room as she turned back to Gabriel, eying his nest on the couch with distaste. She'd avoided the same by burying herself in work, not exactly a healthier choice but it kept her getting out of bed each day.

"Have you actually gone anywhere but to work and here at any stage this week? You at least seem capable of keeping yourself from wallowing in your own filth, which is a plus."

"Oh, sure." Gabriel snorted. He waved her off, trying to control his irritation. "I hung out with some friends last night after work. Wild night, which," he held up a hand to stop her from interjecting, "was my normal before I came here, so don't sound the AA alarm just yet." Actually, he thought that might be better reserved for Adrienne Frost, but it wasn't like he was in a position to judge.

"And then," he shifted to avoid the sunshine and to keep from seeing her disapproving face. His voice was almost treacly, the faux upbeat sound belying the conversation, "this morning, on my way to the train, hungover as fuck, I ran into Clint, who is probably still standing half-naked in the snow outside of his ex-girlfriend's apartment, where I left him." He glanced at the TV. "So, yeah, everything fucking sucks, Laurie, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to say as much."

Laurie had been moving toward his kitchen to start a pot of coffee, but she paused now and glanced back at him, raw shock and grief that she hadn't allowed herself to feel till just this second glimmering in her eyes.

"Alive? What did he say, did he know you at all?"

It came out in a rush of words, and she had to force herself to remain still, to not shake the answers out of him, Clint had been not only her student but a good friend, and that he might be alive and know them in some way was a light of hope she hadn't even known she was holding onto till now. Wanda had returned, as had Lorna, different but in some ways the same. Tabitha had just turned up at the school as a student, if a somewhat reluctant one. Now, Clint, how could Gabriel think that was a bad thing, unless… Ex-girlfriend? That… oh boy.

"Of course not," Gabriel's eyes stayed locked on the screen. "He's, like, 30 or something, and obviously a shitty boyfriend. And 30. And... not Clint. But he's fucking Clint. Got a whole new life and everything."

"Did you at least talk to him?"

Laurie continued into the kitchen, pulling more curtains open as she flicked the on switch on the coffee machine. She hunted about a bit for two cups, and then some more for sugar and milk.

"Duh." Gabriel did a bad job hiding what a stupid question he thought that was. Restraint was not his forte at the moment. "But I was..." He shrugged, ostensibly watching a dumb car commercial. Their conversation replayed in his head. "It didn't go great. He was in the middle of getting dumped, and I was a hungover train wreck. You can imagine."

"Not at all, I have never said anything to anybody ever while under the influence of the night before. So what exactly did he say?"

She wasn't paying enough attention and had to physically refocus to get the coffee made, basically the slowest process ever.

Gabriel frowned. That was unnecessarily judgmental. "Nothing of note." He shifted and looked back toward the kitchen, where she was making coffee he hadn't asked for, using only one arm. "I was basically a stranger to him, and he was judging me about as much as you've been, so that's cool. Do you need some help?"

"I was being sarcastic, by the way," Laurie noted, having recognized the pause before his answer. "Despite my excellent appearance of a competent and functioning adult, it may shock you to know that I have had my own issues adjusting to this new world. And I would say if he were judging you, at least he was thinking of you. Do you actually want to know this new Clint? And if you're offering, I won't say no to a little help. The caffeine will give you enough of an energy boost to help with any possible lack of sleep, and I'm sure you have aspirin around here somewhere. Just don't take Tylenol, it's horrible for this sort of thing."

"I'm fine," Gabriel muttered. He stood from the couch, moving over to the kitchenette to help her out, even if he had no intention of drinking the coffee. Even when Jean had been doing it, he wasn't a fan of being mothered. Especially by someone he didn't know all that well, or really at all.

"Given how much you just yelled at me five minutes ago," he reached for two mugs, moving past her Clint question, "I would say your adjustment issues are pretty clear." He glanced at her. "I didn't – " He sighed and softened. "I know it's not easy for anyone. I don't think my problems are more important than anyone else's." Well, okay, some people's, but still.

"I didn't think you did, or I might have done more than simply yell at you," Laurie replied, her own features softening as she stepped back, allowing him to help. "I just think that sometimes we need people who aren't our friends to kick us in the butt. It's not that you can't grieve, Gabriel, or that anyone who had an inch of heart would ever tell you how to, or for how long. It's that I was hoping you'd allow me to give you some different outlets then the ones you've currently been employing."

"The outlets I'm – Oh, come on," Gabriel scoffed. He glanced at the milk she'd pulled out of the fridge, noted its expiration date and moved the carton to the sink. He didn't like how presumptuous she was being. (The only other possibility was that she'd gotten information by asking around him behind his back, which he couldn't really fathom.)

"Okay," he conceded, the doubt creeping into his voice. "Make your pitch." He flipped off the coffee pot.

"I'd suggest going to see Professor Xavier if I thought you'd actually listen to that, but I'm not entirely sure you're receptive to talking to a professional therapist. Still, think about it, I've been through quite a few of these sorts of traumas and some of the biggest steps I've made have always been with the help of people like him." Laurie began, trying to gauge just how actually receptive he might be to her suggestions. "My main offer however has a more physical component. You need a way to burn off your anger and grief and if you're willing, I can teach you some of the fighting styles I know, or meditation if you prefer. Or we can just plan a workout routine for you that will optimize the resources we have on hand to exhaust you sufficiently that sleep will come easy."

Gabriel handed her a cup of coffee. The milk and sugar sat nearby on the counter. "So, let me get this straight." With his own in hand, he went back to the couch, figuring whether she followed or not was up to her. "Therapy with a man who can read my mind, learning to beat the shit out of people, or fucking meditation?" He snorted and placed his untouched coffee on the table. "Not really seeing the upside here."

"Anything can be made to sound like a bad idea if you try hard enough, but can you really tell me that what you've been trying so far has honestly helped you? Meditation has been recommended for a variety of problems, including things like depression - it's not easy by any stretch of the imagination but once mastered it has been known to help people deal with traumatic events, and to put them into perspective."

Laurie took a sip of her coffee, grimaced at the heat and placed it on the countertop to cool for a moment, she'd have placed her hands on her hips if she could but right now it would look downright ridiculous rather than determined.

"Yeah, well, not gonna happen." He turned back toward her. "I can't think of any activity that sounds worse. I don't sit still and ruminate on mantras, and before you tell me that's not what it is, it doesn't really matter." His phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at it and considered picking it up to get out of this conversation. "What if I tell you I'll think about it?"

"I'd say that was acceptable and ask you just what it is you're watching," Laurie replied, taking a sip of her coffee with a happy sigh.

Caffeine made the world go round, at least it made the medical part of the world anyhow.

"Well, I'll think about it." He probably wouldn't, but Gabriel figured it was at least a healthy step toward getting her to leave him the hell alone. "And nothing." He reached for the remote and shut the television off. "I need a shower, so..."

Laurie's amused look at the not so subtle 'get out' spoke volumes as to her belief in his sudden capitulation. But she'd given him what she could, and she couldn't make him do anything - at least not ethically.

She wondered sometimes if anyone else had to struggle between what they could do, and what they should do.

"Alright, alright. I get the hint. I'm going. I'm keeping your cup though."

Laurie walked slowly to his door, cup of coffee in hand.

"Feel free." Gabriel stood, watching her leave for a second. And then, suddenly and unexpectedly, he felt guilty. Because he knew this person mattered to Clint - old Clint, anyway - and she meant well enough, and while Gabriel was doing his best to cultivate this loner asshole persona, he apparently still had a heart. "Hey," he called after her, doing his best to look sincere as she turned around. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Laurie replied, closing the door behind her with a thump of her shoe.

She wasn't entirely sure it had been an honest thank you, but at least Clint could never say she hadn't tried. It was the least she could do for him, given that she hadn't been there, and hadn't saved him.

She just wished she knew what to expect from this new Clint. Would he be anything like the old? She supposed they might find out sooner or later. Even with New York being an exceedingly large place. People just seemed to be drawn to Xavier's, like cat hair on a particularly clean black jumper.