Jean and Scott: First Light

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean talks to Scott about Clarice's Actions during the Attica mission.



Jean hadn't slept well after her fight with Warren. Their discussion nagged at her, weighing on her mind. She gave herself some time, a couple of hours into first light before she made her way to Scott's office.

In an attempt to be presentable she'd changed into some regular clothes, though the bruises and bandages from the battle still peeked out.

She knocked on the door, having sensed him on the other side. In spending enough time with a person she had come to recognize their mental signature, like their voice or personal brand of perfume or cologne. Each one was different, and she likened it to a certain feeling or sensation. His was...red. It was hard to describe.

It was lucky Scott was still awake, well perhaps not luck, he hadn't really been sleeping much lately. Rather than lie around his apartment all night, he had decided to go through the Danger Room roster and get a start on the week's organization, although Desdemona had had other ideas. The cat had followed him downstairs and was now perched on his lap purring contentedly as he scratched her back idly as he paged through reports on his computer. Until the sound of someone else awake at this insane hour of the morning knocking on his door snapped him out of his reverie, "Come in, it's open."

Jean slipped in, carrying two mugs. The aroma of freshly steeped tea wafted through the room. "Hope I'm not interrupting. I saw your light on and thought you could use a cup," she said.

"I...also wanted to see if i could talk to you about the Attica mission."

"It's been playing on my mind a little too," Scott noted as he, temporarily, lifted his hands away from Desdemona to gratefully accept the cup of tea. "Take a seat. So what's on your mind?"

It took Jean a moment, a million thoughts working its way through her head before she finally sat down in the chair across from Scott's desk, grimacing as the act of sitting rubbed against her various burns and bruises.

Another few moments passed, with Jean perched on the end of her chair like she were ready to stand almost as soon as she arrived. She rested the cup in her hands, her knees pressed together, muscles coiled and rigid. The cup floated in midair a moment as she absently brushed her hair behind her ears. She froze when she saw the cup, realizing what she'd done, and quickly snatched it back.

"During the mission, I witnessed my teammate cut off a man's finger using her powers after we asked him to stand down and he refused, albeit vulgarly. He reacted violently, and that's why we were injured. If this is what the X-Men do, slice first and ask questions later, I don't want to be a part of it. But I suspect that there's more going here with her that I don't know about. I don't want to presume," She stared down into her teacup before glancing up to him.

"I just wanted to let you know. She and I haven't seemed to have gotten off on the right foot from the beginning so I figured it might be better to take it to you."

Scott's hand stopped mid stroke as he looked at Jean eliciting a yowl of annoyance from Desdemona, "Which teammate?" he asked quietly. "I'm sure Charles has talked to you about our rules in the past. We don't kill and we don't torture." Even though sometimes god knows people deserved it

For a moment Jean suddenly felt self-conscious, like she were telling on a classmate to the principal. But Scott didn't seem to be like that. He felt trustworthy. And this wasn't something like writing on the wall in the girl's bathroom with a magic marker. It was a serious problem.

"Clarice. I know since I'm new she wouldn't want to hear it from me. And I imagine this will probably cement further animosity. But her actions seemed extreme."

"She, well all of us, lost a lot of friends in the worst possible way. M-day was really traumatic." Scott sighed and shrugged, "It's an excuse really, and understandable one, but still an excuse. I expected something of this. The world after M-day is not what any of us were expecting and people were bound to react badly just....That's not an excuse is it?"

Jean gave Scott the exact look her alternate self did when she could tell he was trying to assure not only her but himself as well. She shook her head.

"No. It's not. I understand you all went through a terrible ordeal. Something no one should ever have to experience. But slicing off body parts as a reaction to that trauma is definitely not healthy. I don't care who he was or what he was going to do. I know that I'm new, but it seems like the X-Men should be better than the people we're trying to stop," she said. She let out a breath, staring down at the bandages that covered her arms.

"I know she's a good, capable person....I can tell because you're trying to make excuses for her and you don't seem to be the type to do that unless they are. But I think people...especially good people...can break when they're already under a lot of strain and go into a stressful situation so soon after being in one. Things could have been a whole lot worse. I just...don't want her to get into a situation where it gets her or someone else killed because of that strain. I think she needs help. Or at least, a way to work through all the stress...talking, beating the crap out of something...I don't know."

"Sometimes it feels like we're trying to patch up a dam with tissue paper. We can patch up a problem for a little while but eventually it just pops up again. It can leave us frustrated. We've fought the same people so many times that now..." Scott shook his head.

"Of course you're right. We're supposed to be better than that, to not resort to torture or violence like the rest but when you see what someone's done, what someone will do again, it's hard to hold yourself back." He looked up at Jean.

"Perhaps she needs someone untainted with the mansion to talk to, a new set of eyes who can see things in a different way?" he prompted.

Falling silent a few moments, Jean glanced back to Scott, a tiny bit surprised. "I...Are you sure I'm the right person to ask? I'm afraid it might backfire. Like you said...I wasn't in the trenches with the lot of you for all of the things you've been through. I didn't...see what you saw that day. She may not think I understand. Like I'm too naive because I still have these ideals in this....incredibly messed up world. I mean...I'm willing to try it but I don't want to make things worse."

She shrugged.

"Maybe...the both of us? It sounds like she'd listen to you. You're the leader. I'm the..." She laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Something."

"I'm not exactly a pair of fresh eyes," Scott pointed out. God knows that recently he'd wanted to take some figures on the news and liberally apply force beams to them. "I just want to keep it from getting too official if I can help it. That normally means people get defensive and stubborn. In a situation like this that's the last thing we want. But I can come along as a team mate if that would make you more comfortable."

Jean nodded a little.

"If the new person is saying that maybe she needs help, and her friend, the person she's known for awhile, agrees.... I get the sense that she'll listen if you're there. It doesn't seem like any of you guys talk about what happened that much. And that sort of thing can become a pressure cooker. I've seen it already. I'm seeing it."

"And..." She glanced up with a soft smile, then shrugged. "I think you have kind eyes."

"You say that now," Scott disagreed, "but if after a few months you don't think that I'm the devil then I'm apparently doing something wrong in my role as the overseer of all things danger room planning."

"I've heard of your reputation," Jean said with a smirk. "But I don't scare easily." She still hadn't been in the danger room, yet, though. She probably could've used it before this mission.

"So when do you want me to talk to her?"

"Not tonight," Scott decided, "I think everyone needs a chance to get some sleep and get over the shock, we can see in the next few days."

Jean nodded. "Lord knows we need it," she said, managing a smile. She rose, picking up her teacup and turned to head for the door.

"I'd better get going. Good night Sc--" she stopped. "Sorry, Mr. Summers." She forgot he wanted her to call him that.

"Good night Dr Grey."