Jean and Cecilia: Doctor, Doctor (Backdated)

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Cecilia brings Jean lunch at Jean's work and she shows her around.



If ever there was a sign that Cecilia had a sickness, it was that she almost missed that clean, antiseptic hospital smell.

Well, missing was a strong word. It was more like nostalgia. Well before the Dark Phoenix had changed everything, she'd been dying to get back to a hospital, cutting and doing research and snapping at interns where she belonged. Something had stopped that.

Things were different now, at least in the immediate aftermath of what had happened. Logistically, it'd be easy enough to blend back into the world of hospitals - her powers were under her control, and that made it easier to hide than it had been. But for now, she felt bound to the mansion, like there wasn't much choice in the matter.

At least she could live vicariously through Jean. As she strode through the halls of Claremont Medical Center, a bag with two salads in her hand, she couldn't help but be a little impressed. "Excuse me," she stopped a nurse in the hall, interrupting her conversation with a med tech. "I'm looking for Dr. Grey?"

The nurse, a strawberry blonde haired woman in her late 20s/early 30s with brown eyes that seemed to have seen their share, eyed Cecilia carefully. Her name tag read 'Linda Carter.' The floor seemed to be in a state of perpetual motion, with doctors, nurses, and patients scurrying about on their way to various floors.

"Is she expecting you?"

"Yeah." Well, nurses didn't change. She lifted the bag of salad by way of answer. "I needed a consult on a patient," she lied rather effortlessly. "She offered."

Linda didn't look terribly convinced, or perhaps the look she gave was one gotten by being there far too long to care. Nevertheless she turned and motioned for her to follow her. "She's with a patient right now but you can wait for her at the nurse's station."

"Yeah. Thanks." Cecilia followed Linda down a long corridor, taking stock of the facilities. When she'd heard how quickly Jean had managed to secure a fellowship - in January, no less - she'd expected the worst. Rare was the hospital that processed applications so fast, even in the wake of an unknown tragedy that left people more frightened to be around mutants than ever.

Then again, when it came to Charles Xavier and Jean Grey, Cecilia should have learned to expect the unexpected.

Grabbing some charts from outside of a couple of rooms, Linda took a seat behind a computer and began to input information. The woman seemed to have a bleary look to her eyes and suppressed a yawn.

"Oh my GOSH, Lind! Why didn't you TELL me Jack sent you flowers?" an Asian-American woman, also a nurse, squealed, making Linda jump. The woman's cheerful glee was quickly truncated when she saw Cecilia.

"Can I help you?" she said politely, straightening.

Linda waved it off. "She's here for Jean, Christine," she said, then craned her neck as she saw a glimpse of her coming down the hall.

"Hey Grey, you have a visitor," she called.

Jean was on her way down to the front lobby when she heard Linda calling her, then smiled, seeing Cecilia.

"Hey! I was just about to look for you. I see you made it here okay." She glanced toward Linda, who seemed satisfied Jean recognized Cecilia and got up to go off with Christine.

"Oh, yeah, sure." Cecilia shrugged. "New York. Hospitals. Not much of a challenge for me." She watched the two nurses chat as they walked away. "What's her deal?"

"Linda? She's normally a night nurse and one of the nurses called in sick so she's having to cover her shift after just coming off of another one. We're really short handed here. No one wants to come work here after M-Day...On top of that been having some issues with the FOH so everyone's on edge," Jean said.

"She's usually really nice. I think she's just weary. I'll grab her a latte while we're out to keep her going."

She headed toward the elevator. "So, shall we eat first and then I can give you the tour?"

"God, yes." Her stomach grumbled as if on cue. "I thought you might be busy, so I picked something up on the way here," she glanced down at the bag, "but if you're itching for a break, we can put these in the fridge, and you've got dinner."

Jean laughed. "I think your stomach would fight me for that. We can definitely eat first," she said, pushing the down button.

"The cafeteria's in the basement so it might be better to go there first. Not much to see."

"Sure." The elevator arrived with a bing, and the two of them stepped in and hit the button for the basement level. "Quite nice facilities you've got here."

Jean laughed as the doors closed. "Yeah. I hear they renovated a couple of years ago. There are a couple of rooms that can withstand heat and cold...and some that would take being hit by a tank. It's small but...innovative. Reminds me a lot of Muir," she said. It didn't take long to get to the basement, and the doors opened onto a old fashioned style diner atmosphere.

"This place, however? Not renovated yet. I'm kind of glad. They took the idea of retro and ran with it. They serve fantastic milkshakes. Add a little protein powder and you're good for lunch, or breakfast, or dinner depending on your shift."

She shrugged. "I mean it's nothing like the mansion. But what is?"

"Ha. No kidding." Cecilia shrugged in return. They migrated to a nearby table, where Cecilia opened the bag and pulled out two plastic containers and a soda for herself. She glanced back down at them. "I made a few guesses on food." It hadn't occurred to her until just now that old Jean and new Jean might not have the same taste in toppings or dressing or whatever.

"Trying to eat more vegetables these days – sorry to drag you into it with me."

The cafeteria had some windows, though they were mostly for light and not a view considering they were essentially tiny squares of reinforced, triple paned glass that were cut into the sidewalk above. 'Rock Around the Clock' by Bill Haley was playing on the intercom system controlled by a jukebox in the corner. The song was occasionally interrupted by a request from the front desk for the occasional doctor or nurse to go to a specific department.

Jean laughed. "I am an equal opportunity foodie," she said, then opened the container, quirking a brow curiously at the contents: asian chicken salad with mandarin oranges, cranberries, sesame sticks, and ginger orange dressing.

"Wow, that's...actually my favorite kind of salad. I'm impressed. Did Warren tell you?"

"Warren? Nah." Cecilia reached for the kale caesar with a half-smile and a half-shrug. "Just lucky, I guess." She pushed out the steel-framed vinyl chair and took a seat. "Anyway, why would he know?" She grabbed the small plastic container of dressing she'd asked to have on the side.

Jean poked at her salad, searching for a couple of mandarin oranges. At first she was surprised word hadn't spread but....they hadn't really advertised their relationship.

"Because we're dating. I...guess he hadn't told anyone either," she said, glancing down. She shook her head.

"We had a fight, though. So I haven't spoken to him in a few days."

"Oh." Cecilia nodded, then shoved a forkful of salad in her mouth. Warren and Jean were dating. Jean was dating Warren. Who she'd slept with once, for no apparent reason. And which she was trying very very hard not to think about. "You and Warren." Don't think about Warren, Cecilia. "I guess I can kinda see it."

"You guess?" Jean said. Taking a bite of a mandarin orange, she glanced over. "There's some reservation in that 'kinda.'"

Cecilia swallowed a piece of kale. "No, I mean, you know. I don't know you very well, and I don't know him very well." Kinda true. And then definitely true, except for the one way that probably counted. "But he seems like kind of a playboy, which, I gotta say," Cecilia moved some vegetables around in search of some chicken, "doesn't strike me as your type."

Jean laughed. "No, I know what you mean. We're a study in opposites," she said. She shrugged, focusing intently on her salad.

"I...actually have dated someone like him before. In college. It didn't end well. But...Warren's a good person, I think. I can see it in him. I...just think its hard for him to get past how he was raised. His father is...kind of an asshole."

She speared another orange.

"And that's a big reason why we're fighting, I think."

"Because of his dad?" Cecilia hadn't picked up on too much of this baggage when she and Warren had – well, then again, not much could be gleaned from drunk sex and fake-casual mornings after. "I've been on a few weird dates myself recently, and that doesn't sound so bad. Can't really blame someone for their parents. It's not like that's his fault." Unlike sleeping with her, for which Warren was at least half-culpable.

"No, it's not that. It's---" Jean said, then shook her head. "Something that happened after the...encounter at the prison."

She fell silent, not sure where to continue. The conversation had played over and over in her mind.

Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "Okay." She put her fork down and reached for the bottle of Coke Zero. "Now I just have no idea what you're talking about." Plus, she sensed it was time for realtalk Cecilia. "Explain."

Jean leaned back in her chair, attention finally flickering up to Cecilia before back down. "After you bandaged me up after the mission I went back to my room and Warren came to see me. We started to talk about what happened, with Clarice...she...cut off a man's finger...and Warren and I had a disagreement. He was trying to "play devil's advocate," to see if there was a reason...if he deserved it....no one deserves that. And so I made him leave and...I haven't talked to him since."

She ran her fingers through her hair, absently wrapping a strand around her finger.

"He said if I was going to be upset that he didn't smile and nod and agree with whatever I said..." She closed her eyes.

"I don't know what to say to that. I know what he meant, that there's usually more to it....I know...there's something going on with Clarice. I talked to Scott Summers about it...he agreed with me...but...the way Warren thinks...how casual he is about everything. Including that. I just....it bothers me sometimes."

"Ah." Cecilia concentrated on keeping her face straight as soon as Jean mentioned how casual Warren was. Because she knew intimately that could be true, and the last thing she needed was Jean perceiving that. "Well..." She wasn't totally sure where to begin - with Clarice, or Warren or even Scott. "Sometimes," she said very carefully, "it's good to be with someone you don't see eye-to-eye with on everything."

Were her cheeks getting hot? She thought her cheeks might be getting hot. "I mean, Clarice and I don't agree often. I've known her for 10 years, and our first conversation was an aggressive argument. Which isn't, you know – I'm not excusing her, just making the point that, like..." Actually, Cecilia had lost track of her point.

Jean noticed Cecilia's anxiety steadily build over the course of a couple of minutes. Even when trying to ignore it, the emotional bleed was readily apparent, not to mention the way the woman had started to fidget, and her cheeks had flushed red. There was something she wasn't telling her, or trying not to tell her. She tilted her head.

"Like?" she said, patiently waiting for an answer she wasn't sure would come.

"You shouldn't let personality conflicts stop you from doing things that you feel are fun, or right, or... however you want to describe being with Warren." Cecilia shrugged. "One of my best friends at the mansion is kind of a..." She waved her fork around, struggling for just the right word to describe Wade. Not that he was a great example at the moment. "We don't see eye to eye sometimes. Doesn't mean we don't hang out."

"I don't know what we are or where this is going to go," Jean admitted. "I like being around him, and I like that he gets me out of my comfort zone. He says he's never been in a real relationship before. And my last one failed spectacularly so I pretty much threw myself into my work."

She shrugged, then smiled. "Maybe you're right. I just wonder sometimes how much footloose and fancy free I can take. I still think I was right, and he...thinks he's right. I guess we both have stubborn in common."

"Now see," Cecilia tilted her head a little as she speared a piece of kale, "I think you could probably use some footloose and fancy-free. Sometimes it's nice to just... let go and do something kind of fun." Like hang out with a happy-go-lucky ex-celebrity. Or sleep with a man with wings as a method of blowing off some steam. "People like us think too much."

Jean rested her chin in her hands, smirking. "Right? If I could turn my brain off it'd be nice," she said. She propped her elbow behind the chair thoughtfully.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. He is fun."

"Yep," Cecilia nodded. He was fun. Especially – well, assuming she remembered correctly, anyway. "I am often right, and to be listened to at almost all times."

Squinting, the smirk on Jean's face blossomed into a dubious grin. "Uh huh. I'm not so sure about that one. But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt because you are older and wiser." She glanced down at her salad, finding none left.

"As soon as you're finished I can still give you the 10 cent tour if you'd like."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Cecilia looked down at her half-finished salad. It was a bad order, and she should have known better. After she left here, she anticipated going to Starbucks and grabbing a scone. "You know... now's good. Not eager to put more kale in my body."

Jean laughed sympathetically. "The cafeteria has fantastic breakfast burritos the size of your arm that they serve all hours if you're up for something a little more portable and a little less healthy."

"No, no." Cecilia shook her head. "Gotta be good, you know? Self-denial is the key to... I don't know. Something."

"I admire your discipline. I usually give up after about a couple of weeks of eating completely healthy. I need sugar and copious amounts of caffeine to function," Jean mused, rising from her chair. She gathered up her refuse and stuffed it in the bag Cecilia had brought. She offered her hand to Cecilia to take the left over salad so she could put it in the bag and throw it away.

"How long have you been on your diet?"

"Honestly?" She glanced at the salad as she handed it to Jean. What a waste. "Like, three days." She laughed as she stood. "I know, I know, it's ridiculous, but still, you have to start strong, or it's not going anywhere."

"No, I get you," Jean said, tossing the bag in the trash. "If you want to make a lasting change you have to commit and take it one step at a time."

"Exactly." One step at a time. That was something like a mantra for Cecilia in the last few months. "Okay." She grabbed the soda off the table. "Show me your facility, Dr. Grey."

"It's not my facility yet, but give me time," Jean said with a casual smirk, then headed for the elevator.

"They have a water tank with variable temperature gauges they use for people with aquatic-based abilities. I haven't seen any patients need it yet," she said as she walked.

"A couple of the doctors have been using it for a swimming pool."

"Charming," Cecilia said dryly. "God bless the medical profession." Actually, that wasn't a terrible idea, and it was a luxury she wished she'd had in San Diego. Although, then again, they had the beach. "How do you treat patients underwater?" The question sounded ludicrous - like veterinary surgery or something.

"The tank is only for the recovery period," Jean said. "From what I hear, for any sort of medical treatment like surgery, the patient would removed from the tank and outfitted with a reverse form of a respirator filled with water that is circulated through a filter. They would also be outfitted with a special suit that keeps their skin from drying out, with the area being operated on isolated and left open for a limited amount of time for the doctor to work."

The elevator doors opened again and she stepped inside. "This is all hypothetical, however. I haven't actually seen any patients use it, or heard of anyone use it for that matter. The hospital has a lot of equipment that has been set up and only used a handful of times. It was all purchased from donor money and now it's gathering dust, or algae in this case. Not enough patients. Everyone's too afraid." She shook her head.

"We're hoping once things calm down people will start to come. In the meantime we've been catering to the general population."

"Huh." Cecilia nodded. A mutant medicine fellowship at a hospital with no mutant patients sounded effectively pointless, considering how many mutant patients there were back in Westchester. But Cecilia kept her mouth shut, because one potentially thorny conversation with Jean Grey a day was enough.

"Well, I'm sure things will get back to where they were." That hardly sounded convincing to her, but maybe this Jean didn't know Cecilia well enough to tell. "And in the mean time, you've got a lot of research potential."

"Absolutely. There's a lot of recorded cases from the past few years that I can glean from," Jean said with a smile as the elevator made it's way up back toward the lobby. "They cater to more than just the New York population, though, given their specialty. There's talk of a global outreach effort, to bring patients here. Sort of like MD Anderson does for cancer. We'll see how that goes. In the meantime it's a waiting game." But the both of them knew what advertising for mutants to come there like a giant flashing sign would do.

The elevator gave a ding and the doors opened back on to the lobby.

"Alright," Jean said. "Let's begin the tour, shall we?"

"Please, let's." Cecilia shifted the bag on her shoulder and stepped out into the lobby. "Show me your world."