Jean and Haller: Fuel to Fire

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean runs into Haller near the lake; they find out a few things about each other.



Water lapped beneath his soles as he stood above the lake, contemplating. He judged his distance from the shore was sufficient.

Haller dropped into a cross-legged seat, effortlessly suspended above the water by his telekinesis. He'd been experimenting with limited multi-tasking, but lingering weakness from the astral plane had prevented him from serious experimentation. Now that he was recovering it was time to test his stamina.

Water raised in a protective globe around him. That was the simple part. Closing his eyes, he pressed to the hard part:

Fire.

Night was falling, and Jean was out on the grounds. She spent her mornings and some evenings meditating. This was no different. The fire caught her attention, the flames reflecting across the water. Knowing this was out of the ordinary, and being closest, Jean took off into a sprint. She reached the lake, kicking up rocks and dirt as she skidded to a halt.

"Whoever you are....you picked the wrong place," she said, unable to fully make out who was within the globe from the distortion in the water. A dead tree trunk lifted off the ground, Jean prepared to hurl it at the would be assailant.

While he saw nothing, the not inconsiderable exertion of telekinesis sent an shiver across his senses like a fly triggering a spider's web. Someone on the shore -- familiar, but subtly different.

Fire without fuel was difficult to maintain; in that split-second of distraction the flames vanished. The liquid shield lingered for a moment longer before it lost cohesion and cascaded back into the body of the lake.

Into the darkness he called, "Jean?"

With the fire gone, there was only the remains of sunset and the emerging moon to light the way. Jean knew the voice who called her name, somehow, but she wasn't sure who it was from a distance.

"Who are you?" she said, the tree trunk still hovering in wait.

"David Haller." He held out one hand, kindling flame in his palm to illuminate his face while mildly concerned whether this was any less ominous than being completely unlit.

Relief washed over Jean and the tree trunk carefully settled down back to the ground as the tension was lifted off her shoulders.

"Oh!" she said. Charles had told her Haller was here and that he was having some problems due to M-Day with his memories and some dissociation.

"Your hair's certainly less..." She extended her hand above her head a good foot or so. "Than I remember."

Haller alighted next to her on the shore and nodded. "I was ordered to get it trimmed before it developed its own language." He gave Jean a once-over, noting the differences -- and the similarities. It was less odd than it should have been. Perhaps if Jim had still been around it would have been a shock, but for Haller the interest was purely intellectual. He'd chanced to ask Charles for some background after Scott had mentioned her and felt reasonably well-prepared.

"You look well," he said, nodding at Jean. "Sorry I didn't say hello before you went on that assignment. I was still adjusting."

"It's okay. I know you had a lot to deal with," Jean said, shaking her head. She smiled. "It's been 15 years...I didn't expect anything."

Truth be told she had wondered if he'd died along with the rest of the mutant population. It was a relief to see he wasn't.

"Well...since the world thankfully isn't ending I don't want to bother you. You looked like you were in the middle of meditating."

Haller smiled faintly. "The professor said he'd told you my memories of our time on Muir aren't intact, but I'd say fifteen years without substantial contact is definitely my fault. It is good to see you again, though." The last statement was spoken with complete truth. It was reassuring to see Jean, regardless of which world she came from.

Jean laughed. "The telephone works both ways. I could've reached out too. Guess we'll have more time now living under the same roof," she said, then nodded, her smile lingering.

"It's good to see you too."

"I apologize in advance that you'll have to catch me up," Haller said, crossing his arms. Best to get it out of the way early. "I know you're a doctor now, obviously, and that we were on Muir together. But the details . . ." He shrugged.

Jean shook her head. "Charles told me. It's okay. I can give you the cliff's notes version," she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

"Well... I met you when I first came to Muir. You were a little distant at first because you were working through some things....then you went away for bit and came back and we got along pretty well. Then you had a....dissociative episode and worked with Charles for awhile. By the time things were resolved I was getting ready to head to the states to go to college and we lost touch."

"Yeah. That wasn't a particularly stable time in David's life." Which was an understatement for a span of time that had covered impending psionic dissolution averted only by major psychic surgery and followed by a violent breakdown. On the other hand, Jean's knowledge of his DID made things considerably easier. "Charles instructed you remotely when you were on Muir, didn't he?"

Jean nodded. "He and my dad didn't really get along for awhile so he took a job at Oxford and dragged me with him. I had been working with Charles privately....I wanted to go to the school but with all the anti-mutant fervor they didn't think it'd be safe. I started out with telepathy, and then when we moved the telekinesis kicked in and nearly destroyed our flat. Charles convinced my dad to send me to Muir so I could get control. They finally reconciled after I forced them to work out their differences. They're not best buddies but at least they can be in the same room together."

Haller tilted his head, assimilating the new information. "You know, so many of the people Charles works with are without family or outright estranged I never thought about parental conflict. Was it a personality clash, or the . . . how to put this . . . the sense of competing influence?"

"A little of both," Jean said, taking a seat on a nearby rock to stare out over the water. "My father had always been busy with teaching when Sara and I were children. I hardly saw him. So after Annie died and my power manifested he felt powerless...He didn't know how to relate to what was going on with me, and Charles did. And the idea that I looked up to someone who wasn't him, someone who was able to help me....the idea of a father figure...He reacted badly.

"I think he thought I cared for Charles more than him. Combine that with the fact that John Grey, the passionate history professor, couldn't get a rise out of Charles Xavier, bastion of calm...If my mother hadn't convinced him to trust Charles things might have turned out much differently. I don't know what would've happened."

She shuddered to think. There had been discussion of being committed a mental institution before Charles arrived and explained that was going on. She wondered if she would have wound up there.

Haller leaned himself against a tree, matching the redhead's relaxed posture. "It's hard for any parent to know his child is going through something he can't understand, let alone help. For a certain type of person, entrusting your child to someone else is a tacit admission that you've failed. I can't imagine it's any easier when that person also happens to be someone you don't like. And that's even without the disconnect between telepaths and the headblind."

Picking up a rock, Jean skipped it along the water, watching the reflected moonlight become rippled and distorted.

"It's hard for them. To be on the outside, when you see someone going through something, and not know what to do."

"Yes. Even if you're the professor, I'd imagine." A collection of twigs and pebbles near Haller's feet began to move; with an idle gesture the detritus rose into the air to assume an orbit around his fingertips. "I think he appreciated you. David's telekinetic fits were symptomatic of mental illness, and not even Charles could fix that. I'm glad he had someone he could share a normal telepathic experience with. Or as normal as that gets, anyway."

Jean glanced up, taking in the telekinetic show Haller had put on. "Me too," she said with a soft smile. She admired the man so much. He was one of her favorite people.

"For awhile there, after I left for college, and working with X-Corps, I was the only telepath around. Now there's so many here. It's kind of nice."

"It is . . . a new experience," Haller agreed. "I know you helped pick up Quentin. Are you also going to help train the psi-students? I did some work with that in the past, but unfortunately I don't have that power anymore."

Tilting her head, Jean picked up another rock. "Y'know....I hadn't really thought about it," she said. She tossed the rock at the water again, and the rock seemed to skip across the water in slow motion before finally dropping.

"I've never taught anyone before, but working with Quentin did feel good. I'd heard Emma Frost was doing the psi-training, though. Do you think they would need another?"

"I think the more styles the kids are exposed to the better prepared they'll be. Besides, Emma has a business to run, and the professor's telepathy is damaged. As long as you feel comfortable in it I don't see how tagging in occasionally would hurt." Haller rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, and the dead grass and leafmold orbiting his hand sparked into flame. "Every student prefers a different approach. Figuring out the best way can be satisfying in itself."

"Hmm," Jean said with a slow, thoughtful smile and a nod of agreement. She had always felt most whole when she was able to help people. Teaching was something she never quite branched into simply because she'd never had the time or the need. And here, now that she was settled, perhaps that could be an option.

She brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ears."So why don't you have that power anymore? M-Day?" she said. She shook her head, then added quickly.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Most didn't want to talk about it, as if remembering might end the world.

Haller glanced down at the redhead, mildly amused by her delicacy. "I don't mind. And to be honest, I'm not entirely sure. For me, one of the consequences of M-Day was that I was pulled onto the astral plane with Rachel. Whether it was strictly physical or I was actually transmuted into psionic energy for it I couldn't say -- it wasn't exactly something we planned. Regardless, when I came back my telepathy was gone. I'm not sure if it's a consequence of further fragmentation, damage because of M-Day, or just the price I paid to survive the transition. Something like that happened to Rachel, and her powers seem much better adapted to surviving on the plane than most."

Jean just stared at him for a moment or two. Charles had given her a very brief run down and he'd mentioned some of that but it was still hard to grasp how someone could just completely disappear into the astral plane, if that was the case. She didn't think that was possible. But since coming here she was learning to expect the unexpected. Anything was possible.

"So it's just....gone, gone? Like you never had it?" she said. Her green eyes turned thoughtful, almost...longing.

"What's it like?"

After a certain point she'd spent more time with people's thoughts crushing in on her than she hadn't. She'd forgotten how it was before, used to the constant buzzing in her head.

"It was always quiet for us," Haller confessed. He regarded her in turn, his slightly too-pale blue eyes meeting hers as he allowed the now-charred degree to patter to the earth like rain. "I seem to remember you manifested when your friend's death tore you open. For David it was the opposite. Even after it was reclaimed from another personality, the manifestation trauma made telepathy an effort to use. Still, it was a part of him, like an arm or a leg. Now, though . . . trying to use it is like reaching for the lightswitch and finding a blank wall."

Folding her arms, Jean glanced down. "I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help....Some nuances of the astral plane are still new to me," she said with a laugh. She shook her head.

"And Charles doesn't have any ideas? I know his telepathy's damaged but he usually seems to have good insight."

"We've discussed various possibilities, but right now probing deeper isn't an option -- my defenses are unpredictable, and he's still recovering. At the moment we're at an impasse." Haller gave her another indifferent shrug. "It's an inconvenience for me. I think of the two of us Charles feels it more. Telepathy was the only power they shared. Now it's gone, and the corresponding personality with it." His eyes slid to the quiet stillness of the lake. "Sometimes it must feel like his son died after all."

Jean was poised to speak words of assurance, but it was those ten words that drew her attention.

"His....son?" she said, her eyes widening with the word.

She didn't know what else to say beyond a round of gibberish, so she left her mouth agape. Haller had always been a private person, but this was something she had expected Charles to tell her. He rarely kept things from her, and this was a pretty big secret to keep.

"Huh."

Haller blinked away from the lake, momentarily puzzled by her reaction. Then he realized his error. The Jean he'd known had been a confidante for so long he'd automatically fallen into the same familiar language. "David didn't find out until long after I left Muir," he said frankly. There was no point in back-peddling. "He never disclosed because treating family members is a conflict of interest, and they were concerned that if he knew the truth there would be complications. Which was correct, of course, but that was some time ago." He gave her a half-smile touched with apology. "Sorry, I was careless -- I didn't mean to spring that on you. I would appreciate it if you could keep it to yourself. I don't think Charles would mind, but David preferred that it not be common knowledge. I'm trying to respect his wishes." Charles. Charles had a son. The more she thought about it they both had similar eyes, and even smiled the same. Realizing she had been just staring at Haller in silence for a few moments, Jean snapped herself out of her thoughts and quickly nodded.

"Of course. I won't say anything," she said. It wasn't her secret to tell if he hadn't told many people. Being the son of Charles Xavier was some pretty big shoes to fill.

She let out a breath, then smiled, determined not to make things awkward for him, despite the multitude of questions she had. Perhaps later.

"Anyway....I think perhaps you're still healing. And since your powers were such a big part of you, and they were used to save your life it was probably far beyond what you were used to. They could need time to readjust."

"It's a possibility. For the time being there's not much more I can do than wait." He needed to be more careful. Jean had recovered with admirable speed and seemed far too polite to spend time belaboring the subject, but it was obvious tact would have been more helpful here. Jim had possessed a caution Haller lacked, and while he felt he posed no risk to the fabric of reality he was beginning to realize the more mundane details were not unimportant.

"Either way, we work with what we have," he continued, following her conversation down the road that lead away from the subject of his paternity. "My telekinesis is under much better control now, so I'm hardly helpless." He paused, pondering. "You've already been deployed on a mission, right? Is one easier than the other for you? Telekinesis versus telepathy, that is."

Jean shook her head. "From a mission standpoint? Hard to say. Things didn't go very well as I'd like for my first one," she said, a note of regret in her voice that seemed to resonate deeper than just failing.

"I've had the most practice when it comes to telepathy....I suppose when you use it everyday it's easy. But I enjoy telekinesis. I practiced a lot on Muir when you were away, on some X-Corps missions, and in the Danger Room sometimes. But I haven't had the chance to use it much in a fight."

Haller made a mental note, adjusting his expectations accordingly. It sounded as if Jean used telepathy on a diagnostic level here, too, but it would have been a mistake to assume any further comparisons. It might mean the difference between life and death. "Combat is different than day to day use," he conceded. "If you'd like, we could do some work with your telekinesis. If nothing else it could get you accustomed to facing another telekinetic, and as you saw, I'm still testing my own limits."

Jean nodded. "That'd be great," she said. She tilted her head.

"Can I try against your pyrokinetic abilities as well? When I was against Scorcher I felt blindsided. I don't want to make the same mistake again," she said. She rubbed the back of her neck with a laugh. "Not that....I plan on running into him again. But stranger things have happened."

"To a degree. I'm not a true pyrokinetic -- I can start fires, even sustain them for a time if I concentrate, but I don't control them. In a real combat situation, the most expedient thing to do would be to influence the cells directly and burn someone alive. On the other hand . . ." Haller tilted his head towards the lake. The water rippled, then began to run up the shore. It flowed toward the two psis, silvered by moonlight, and encircled them like a moat. As it settled into a ring the liquid began to move in a wispy, leaping dance that mimicked the movement of flame. ". . . I'm good with water. That might be the less lethal option."

Jean stared at the water with a sense of wonder. "Good with water..." she repeated, glancing back down to him as a broad smile crossed her lips.

"Seems to be an understatement." She shook her head.

"Well...being immolated would not be on my bucket list. I just want to be prepared. I want to learn from my mistakes." And kick Scorcher's ass should they ever have a round two but that was for her own personal satisfaction. Falling silent a moment, she reached out to touch the water.

"You were the first fellow telekinetic I'd ever met but the only one I've found so far who can do the fire thing too."

"And you're the first I've met who had access to it without explicit training or some other formative circumstances. I'm not certain mine would have developed had David's powers not schismed along with his DID." As the faux-flame caressed her fingers Haller marked another difference: Jean didn't show the slightest discomfort around water. Fortunate, since it was yet another potential issue he should have considered before acting. He drew the water from the ground and began to swirl it through the air, rippling like a kite-tail in the wind. "Fire is difficult to work with. How well do you control it? Do you train with it?"

Staring up at the water, Jean shook her head. "It only happens when I'm really pissed off. I've been afraid I might hurt someone since it seems to be connected to my emotions. I haven't explored it much." She tilted her head.

"So do you think there are other telekinetics who can do it too? I suppose it makes sense....exciting the molecules at a subatomic level until they produce heat."

"To be honest, I'm not sure how much specialization is required. As far as I can tell it's partly a matter of scale. It's easier to affect things we can see. Molecules themselves are abstract. Maybe all telekinetics could do it if they looked at things from the right perspective." Haller extended an arm, allowing the water to coil around it like an obedient snake.

"Cyndi's expression of the power was linked to her emotions, too. I wonder if pyrokinesis is inherently connected, or if it's just our own associations -- passion being associated with heat. It's an interesting thought."

Jean smiled, appreciating Haller's speculative nature. Usually when she pondered theories about mutant abilities people looked at her funny. Most people didn't seem to really care. "Definitely," she agreed.

"Either way, I think it'd probably be something to get a handle on. I've never set anyone on fire before and I never want to."

"That's a good goal." Beneath the mild agreement Haller recalled the screams that had haunted David for years, but distantly, like a scene from a movie he'd seen long ago. Just another memory, and one he saw no benefit in sharing. Not with this Jean, to whom the world was still wide with possibility.

With a flick of his arm Haller sent the ribbon of water back into the lake and returned his attention to Jean. "Still, the unknown is a good environment to breed fear. If you'd like to explore it, let me know. I've never tried countering that kind of thing before, so we might both learn something."

Jean laughed. "Sounds like a good thing to add it to the list. Especially if I'm going to be going on missions on a regular basis. Lots of high emotions there," she said. A few pebbles came floating up off the ground, forming the rudimentary shape of an arrow.

"Perhaps....we should wear flame retardant suits," she said as an afterthought.

Haller watched the idle levitation as he thought back. This was another time and another woman: younger, less experienced, less battle-hardened. There was no certainty her power levels would match the Jean he'd known. Still . . .

"Yes. And limit ourselves to somewhere with multiple fire exits."

Jean nodded. "Good idea," she said. Climbing to her feet, she stretched.

"I should probably get to rounds. Cecilia's probably eager to get off her shift," she said. Might as well get back on the medical horse. She smiled. "It was good to see you again, Haller. I look forward to working together."

Haller returned the smile, almost by reflex. "Me too, Jean. I look forward to getting to know you again."