Jean and Haller: Reintroductions | Late Saturday Morning

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean spends some time in the Box after trying to read a Slenderman's mind and runs into an unexpected visitor.



Jean clutched a pillow, curled in bed as she watched an episode of 'Fringe' on her laptop. She had set the screen to where the light was not as jarringly blue and wouldn't continue to exacerbate the migraine that had so rudely decided to overstay its welcome past the mission (again).

Of course, it was her own fault for trying to mentally connect with a magical creature. She had to learn the hard way that that was a bad idea.

In the past few weeks the Box had unofficially become Jean's bedroom. Her original suite was finally starting to air out and would be habitable soon, and she had taken to sleeping in one of the guest suites for the time being.

But the nights had gotten rather loud and her dreams vivid (and not quite hers), so for a few nights a week, some time between the hours of midnight and 7 am she'd dragged herself down to the Box to get some peace and quiet.

After the most recent mission in the second bizarro land that year she went straight there, hoping it would take the edge off.

She had asked Cece to pick her up some food since she had finally started to get a little bit of her appetite back. At least the nausea from the migraine had started to go away, as evidenced by the way her stomach rumbled.

The outer door wooshed open and then closed, signifying a visitor. There was a knock on the inner door.

"Jean? Cecilia sent me with your care package."

Of everyone, that was not the voice she was expecting.

Jean fell silent a moment, and glanced over to telekinetically press pause on the episode she was watching. At least that part didn't require telepathy.

"Come in," she said. She started to sit up but the blood rushed to her head and her head responded by pounding out what felt like the drum solo from 'Wipeout' by the Sufaris, so she laid right back down and pressed her forehead into the pillow, clenching her eyes shut as she waited for it to pass.

"Hi. Sorry," she said, muffled by her pillow after taking a breath, then came up for air.

"I..." She let the words hang for a moment, not sure what to say.

"Were you in the neighborhood?"

The tall psi slipped into the room, tray in hand. He gave her an awkward smile as he set it on her bedside table. It contained a take-out bag, a steaming mug, and two white pills. "Yeah, Cecilia and I have brunch sometimes. She got a call and sent me for your food instead. Also your painkillers and some cardamon tea. The professor suggested that one. Oh, and, um . . ." He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a gel-filled face mask, freshly chilled from the freezer.

"Sometimes cold helps with the stress headaches," he explained, looking faintly embarrassed by his own initiative.

For the second time, Jean was caught unawares, and curiously blinked at the offerings, and the man before her, before smiling softly.

"Thanks," she said, cocking her head to the side as she reached up to take the face mask. She could tell almost immediately that there was something inherently off about him. He was less stilted, more open and...well, she hadn't ever seen him embarrassed. It was almost like being in another universe.

"Would you mind putting everything on the table? I'll get them in a minute. Once the drum solo lets up," she said, then let out a groan as she rolled over onto her back. Slow, baby steps. Ow ow ow ow.

Haller gave a sympathetic wince. While Jean waited for the world to stop pulsing in time with her heart he ducked into the bathroom and emerged with a disposable paper cup filled with water.

"First time against demons, huh," he said, offering the redhead the cup and her pills.

Jean heard Haller's footsteps across the floor, the click of the light, and the footsteps back. She could smell the food and the tea mingling together, beckoning a come hither finger at her. Once Haller's voice spoke up again closer in her direction, she opened one eye to peer up at him.

"...Yeah...I didn't know they were demons, though. Mostly just...supernatural....things. God, that sounds so strange," she said, taking the cup and pills.

"Thanks. I'll get them in a minute. Its not good to take them on an empty stomach."

Letting out a breath, she put the gel face mask on, then gradually sat up and smirked.

"How do I look?"

"Very migraine-chic," Haller assured her, though they both knew there were very few ways to rock a gel mask. "And yeah. I've come up against a few beforehand. Their consciousness isn't . . ." he waved a hand, "well, since you're in here I'm guessing you already know."

"Compatible?" Jean replied, gingerly picking up the steaming up of tea.

"Yeah, I gathered that from my view of the ground after it knocked me on my ass."

She took a long sip, leaving the mask on her face for the moment. Even if she realized it looked silly it did seem to help. She eyed the container she had yet to open.

"That doesn't smell like a burger. What did you bring me?"

Haller raised an eyebrow. "I was told you asked for a breakfast burrito. I remember because Cecilia alleged her delivering burritos would be racist."

"But I sent her a text later changing my mind--"

Finally opening the lid, Jean stared at the burrito, with the bacon, eggs, and melty cheese peeking out from the top of the tortilla. Eyeing it a moment, she picked up her phone and checked the text she'd sent, then glanced at the burrito and back up to Haller with a face of resignation and embarrassment.

"It helps if I press the send button."

Haller said nothing, but his mouth tightened in a way that suggested he was simultaneously mortified and trying not to laugh.

"I can see why chunky food might not be appealing," he said, collecting himself. "Personally I've been having issues with sizzling sounds. Uh, can I get you something else . . ?"

Jean's nose curled when he said the word 'sizzling' and it was easy to tell that she was now probably thinking the same thing too. Making a face, she shook her head.

"Nah. I'm a doctor. I've seen worse. I don't want to bother any more anyway when you've done all this for me already. Besides...I'm starving. I'll just keep my eyes closed and try not to look," she mused.

After a couple of moments, she glanced up at him.

"You seem....different," she said. She couldn't let it go unspoken any longer but didn't want to say 'better' because there wasn't really a matching correlation as this had been the person she'd known longest, even with the boy at Muir Island. The one Moira tried to keep her from talking to when she was a teenager, for her safety.

The other psi gave her the same, awkward smile again. "After the thing with the girls I had a talk with Charles. Well, he talked. I was . . . saying and doing things I'm proud of." Haller rubbed the back of his head, uncomfortable at the memory. "Anyway, he talked some sense into me. Finally. I'm more . . . myself again, I guess." He amended, "Well, selves."

Jean slowly nodded, then finally motioned to the other bed for him to sit, if he wanted. "Does it feel strange?" she said.

"When you weren't for so long?"

Haller hesitated. He hadn't given Jean much cause to trust, let alone like, him in the year they'd known each other. The offer was significant.

After a split-second the indecision had passed. Exhaling, Haller moved to sit.

"I was, and I wasn't," he said after a moment. "I remember everything. I was experiencing everything. But it didn't feel like me. I was completely depersonalized. It was like watching yourself in a dream you can't wake up from."

Sitting up a little more to lean against the wall, Jean picked up the burrito and, after a couple of moments, took a bite, her hunger overriding her disgust. It wasn't too bad if she didn't think about it.

She studied him thoughtfully, then picked up her cup of tea to take a sip.

"And now that you're awake?" she said.

Haller leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Uneven, I guess is the best word," he replied. "I still get some numb stretches. Other times emotions just come up out of nowhere, and strong. I think it's going to be a while before things level out. Making up for lost time, I guess."

Jean nodded. "Makes sense," she said, setting her cup down. She was quiet, chewing thoughtfully, staring down at the way the steam rose from the insulating cup he had brought her.

"I'm sorry, I...don't know how to act around you. After....the astral plane....I think it changed things. I don't....know if I ever thanked you, for saving me," she said. She glanced down.

"I'd probably be locked away in a mental institution right now if you hadn't. Or...worse." That much emotion often raised the cortisol levels in the body, put stress on the heart. Never ending exposure could kill.

"I figured it was easier to stay away for now. But...when I saw you on the mission, to save the kids...I....knew something had changed. Even if..." She didn't finish because what she thought, what she was going to say wasn't her call.

"Nevermind."

Haller shook his head. "You don't have to apologize to me. Or explain yourself. Back when I hurt that guy and terrorized those people -- you were right. It wasn't instinct, I did it because I was angry. And I couldn't even see it until . . . later."

Jean glanced up midbite, surprised to hear those words coming from his mouth. Blinking a little, she glanced down with a faint smile.

"I guess you really have changed."

Haller returned the smile, crookedly. "To be honest I was really hoping I was beyond the point of not realizing how fucked up I am, but I guess that's what therapy is for."

The smile was what did it, and Jean found herself staring again, before she reached over and grabbed the two pills he'd brought.

"Everyone copes in different ways," she said. It was like being around a completely different person, and she was still trying to get used to it.

Taking a drink of water, she popped the pills into her mouth, absently rubbing her temple. She'd hoped to avoid taking them as long as she could but the headache wasn't letting up and she'd eaten enough food to avoid a stomachache.

"I was still surprised to see you during the Slender mission, though. How long ago had you um....seen the light?"

"Since about a week after the thing with Topaz and Meggan, I guess?" he said, eyeing the tell-tale tension crease between her eyebrows. "There wasn't an announcement for the team or anything. Things are still -- settling." He extended a hand. The empty papercup came to him, but without the smooth surety he'd displayed in previous demonstrations.

"If it hadn't been for the kids and me having experience, I wouldn't have gone," he explained. "I'm a telepath. My TK's always belonged to my alters. Right now I'm in a transitional stage. It's still there for now, but as they start coming back I can feel it going."

Jean tilted her head to the side at the description. She had heard that he had multiple personalities, but that was about it. She hadn't tried to press.

"But you'll still have it? Only....when an alter uses it?" she said, trying to understand.

He nodded. "They seem to be tied to the emotional states the alters represent, like how most DID manifests as compartmentalizing and reassigning certain memories. Eventually I got control of the telepathy, but two of the others handle the TK. Jack handles the heavy lifting and defense, Cyndi handles the micro-scale -- starting fires, moving liquids. You'll probably see them soon."

Haller gave her a half-shrug. "It's weird, but it may be easier to think of them as very sharply-defined moods. We all know what the other is doing, and we've coexisted on the team for years. Jack in particular was basically designed for offense and aggression, but neither of them have ever gone as far as . . . whoever I was last year."

Jean finished off the rest of her burrito, then pulled her knees up to her chest. "You mentioned the fires, before. I remember," she said, resting her chin against her knees thoughtfully as the memory of waking up on fire flickered through her mind.

"So you said they're coming back. They're not all back yet?"

"Yeah. I'm already having mild dissociative episodes, and I hear them sometimes." Haller sighed and leaned back on the heels of his hands. "It happens. Back when I first came here and my powers were locked I could hear them, even if I didn't switch. There was a couple months when I was still living on Muir, back after I took that long visit to see Charles and had some psychic surgery, that I thought they were gone completely. It didn't last then, and I don't think it will this time, either. I think it's just the way I'll always be."

Jean rested her head against the wall. "You make it sound like I'd judge you for that," she said.

"I don't. It's the the drive to hurt others I worry about. The lack of compassion."

Haller shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you'd be judgmental about my disorder -- I judge myself more than anyone else. I just get tired of dealing with it sometimes, that's all." He was quiet for a moment.

"As for the other," he said slowly, "I think it'd be dishonest to pretend that's not in me. Obviously that impulse came from somewhere, and there were times on Muir when I tried to hurt people, too. But what complicated last year was the -- subtraction. I've never had to worry about the alters going too far because I never wanted to hurt anyone, or at least not anyone who wasn't a clear and active threat. But when I was numb to my core, I didn't care about anything. There was nothing to hold me back."

Haller glanced over to meet Jean's gaze. He added, a touch ruefully, "One of the things Charles brought up is that it's dangerous for me not to feel, and not just in terms of my own health."

Silent for a few moments, Jean was thoughtful. "He's right," she said quietly, with knowing resonance.

She glanced back over to him. with a soft smile.

"Well, I'm glad you're back. It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah, me too." There was a brief moment of calculation, and then the other psi stuck out his hand. "Um, when it's just us you can call me Jim."

Arching a brow, Jean leaned over, then took his hand. "Jim," she said, her smile widening a little before her face contorted from shifting positions and she unconsciously clenched his hand from the wave of pain.

"Just us? So no one else knows?" she added, after a deep breath.

"There are a few others, mostly people who know the situation," he replied as he released her hand. "Charles and Moira, obviously. Rachel, Scott, Marie, Be-"

He bit off the name in mid-syllable.

"Sorry," he said. "That's -- that's it for the mansion."

Jean blinked at the stutter, then slowly nodded. "...Okay," she said.

"Your secret's safe with me. Outside of this...just Haller?" She rarely saw him refer to himself as David.

Jim managed a smile. "Yeah, that or David is fine. And honestly it's easier to keep track of the body than play pin-the-tail-on-the-personality."

Jean nodded again. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, smiling back softly, not sure what else to say, except....

"Thanks. For trusting me enough to tell me. Especially if not that many people at the mansion know."

Haller narrowly avoided another awkward head-rub by securing both hands around his knees. "Well, trust has to start somewhere, right?" he said, lamely. He added, in an equally terrible attempt to avoid an awkward silence, "How's your head?"

Jean closed her eyes. "Still the same, but I can feel the painkillers starting to creep their way in. I'd try to move things along in my own circulatory system but I get the feeling that'd be bad."

Jim winced. "Please don't use your TK on yourself when you're high and might forget your veins belong inside your body. Uh, can I get you anything else?"

Jean smirked. "I assure you, I'm not that careless, or forgetful," she mused. She eyed the selection he'd brought satisfactorily.

"I think you got everything, actually, thanks. Once the drugs kick in I'll probably turn in."

"Okay." He glanced at the tray one last time. "And I'll just . . . mention the egg-thing to Cecilia."

Jean waved the thought away. "Nah, it was my fault. I'm over it now anyway. The burrito was actually pretty damn good. Thanks for bringing it."

Jim smiled faintly. "You're welcome," he said, leveraging himself off the bed. "Feel better, okay?"

"Thanks," Jean said with a smile, shifting positions so she could lie down on the bed. At least in here she could sleep.