Jean and Warren: Selfless

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Making good on his offer to donate money, Warren stops by the hospital to check out his investment.




Jean bent down to tie her shoes as she exited a patient's room. It was early in the morning and she was on rounds, having just gotten there about a half an hour ago, which meant she was still waiting on the caffeine from the cup of coffee she just had to kick in.

The nurses seemed excited about something, and were buzzedly hurrying about. Jean quirked a brow.

"Did the squirrel get in the building again?"

Linda, one of the daytime nurses, grinned and reached up, tightening her ponytail. "Better. A billionaire is here."

Her smile grew even wider. "A single, handsome, billionaire." Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, she leaned over and whispered loudly, "Word is, he wants to make a donation. And that means he'll be here often, especially if they build something."

Only one 'single, handsome billionaire' came to mind and Jean was trying hard not to facepalm.

"What's his name?"

Please say Harry, Prince of Wales.

"Warren Worthington," gushed Christine, another nurse who had come upon the conversation. "The third," she added with importance. "Can you imagine? I've only ever seen him in magazines. I wonder if his hair is as soft as it looks."

"I heard he dated the entire 2012 Victoria's Secret model fashion show line up," Claire, the third nurse in the trio piped up.

"Boy gets around."

Jean started to make a murmur of agreement when Claire added.

"Not that I'm complaining," she said, fanning herself.

"Have you seen that man in a three piece suit? Damn. Christmas came early. He could stuff my stocking any day."

Actually facepalming this time, Jean shook her head. "Yeah...I need to make the rounds. I'll see you guys later," she said with a smirk, then paused after a moment.

"Did they say when he'd be here?" She had no idea what he was up to but it probably wasn't good.

Claire elbowed Jean. "Mmmhmm. Don't tell me you aren't tempted to let him explore your anatomy, Grey," she said, wagging her eyebrows.

The smirk remaining on her face, along with a look of perpetual patience, Jean laughed, shook her head and turned to leave. "You guys have fun."

-*-*-

As Warren listened to the photojournalist, graphic person, whatever prattle on, he took slow sips of his espresso and pretended to care. Ever since that whole Biotech debacle, he'd invested quite a bit of time in trying to gain back public (read: investor) confidence. This article for Vanity Fair had been suggested by his publicist. Plus, once Jean had suggested investing money, Warren thought it was a good look for him.

Selfless, altruistic, Warren.

It wasn't a look he liked often so, like always, there was an ulterior motive.

"I have no opinion on mutants," he said in response to one of the journalist's many questions. "I have opinions on Americans and that opinion is this: we should all have access to medical care. The Claremont Medical Center has a reputation for never turning anyone down, insurance status be damned. That's something I can relate to. Worthington Industries has one of the best in-house insurance plans in the country." He flashed a smile. "We take care of our own."

Gag.

Walking up to the doors of the hospital, he didn't even have a chance to step in before the medical director was in front of him. Perfect.

The director extended his hand. A tall man in his late 60s/early 70s with salt and pepper hair, he held a calm, unflappable demeanor not unlike Charles Xavier.

"Mr. Worthington. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Dr. Peter Corbeau," he said.

"I would be glad to show you around."

Warren shook the director's hand and smiled. "Thank you, Dr. Corbeau. While I appreciate it, I think we had discussed also having one of the medical staff on board?" He directed his attention to the journalist person...Steve? Solomon? "While this is my first time here in person, Dr. Corbeau and I have had many conversations on what the facility needs and how best Worthington Industries can assist. This is part of one of our many community initiatives."

"The first steps to a brighter tomorrow, Mr. Worthington," Dr. Corbeau said with a pleasant smile.

"The board of directors were thrilled to hear of your company's contribution," he added, ushering him toward the elevators.

"Now, we have our head surgeon, Dr. William Sutton on standby for your arrival."

"Dr. Sutton?" Warren shook his head. "I was under the impression a newer, more junior doctor was going to do this. Dr. Grey, if I remember correctly." He smiled. "She does quite a bit of pediatrics and that's a field I'm passionate about."

Dr. Corbeau paused, momentarily surprised, but took it in stride. "I'm sure that can be arranged," he said with a simple nod.

"Follow me. I'll take you up to the mutant care wing. She is working in that area today."

After a short elevator ride, the trio arrived at the wing. There seemed to be entirely too many nurses in Warren's opinion but that didn't matter. In all honesty, he was simply here to show Jean that he did have a good side.

Even if he manipulated an entire system to get there.

"Dr. Grey," he said fondly when he saw the redhead. "Hard at work, I see."

Jean had just left a patient's room and was distracted by scribbling a few notes down on a chart, when Warren appeared, snapping her out of her thoughts. She glanced between Warren and Dr. Corbeau, who had no real idea of their past history. She wasn't sure how he'd react.

"New York City is pretty large, Mr. Worthington," she said with a pleasant smile.

"Lots of sick people. How can I help you?" She didn't think he'd make good on his promise that quickly.

Warren grinned and motioned to the photojournalist. "I wanted a more personal tour of the center, since I will be so generously donating in the near future. Your esteemed Dr. Corbeau has provided me with a general one, but I've asked for a more intimate look at what goes on here. Do you think you could spare a half hour?"

Judging by the expectant look on Dr. Corbeau's face, there was no way she could get out of this.

"I'd be delighted," she said finally, smiling at her boss before turning her attention back to Warren.

"Let me tell my nurses. It tends to get a little crazy in the morning."

The photojournalist person snapped pictures of the unit as Warren nodded his assent. He'd thought a lot about Jean's perception of him. While, to be fair, he hadn't portrayed himself like the charming, suave, debonair person he knew he was, he still thought he had done a good job. And yet, every time they talked, or texted, he'd end up apologizing for who knows what. Maybe throwing money at a pet project would get her to stop making him feel so ....judged.

Waiting until she came back, he chatted briefly with Dr. Corbeau about really nothing. The logistics of the donation had already been set up -- the visit was more of a courtesy. Upon her return, he flashed a smile. "Dr. Grey, please -- show me around. What do I need to know regarding the day-to-day? I want to ensure that my donation benefits those that need the most care -- children."

Jean put her hands behind her back, then glanced around thoughtfully as she started to walk with Warren. Dr. Corbeau remained behind to attend to other duties.

"Well, much of the equipment is at least 15-20 years old. We have a few newer models that have been jury-rigged in the event of a unique case but for the most part you're looking at a museum. Patients come in and we do what we can. For the most part we succeed, or we try to. But the care of mutants can be challenging. You have to learn to adapt to their special circumstances," she said, motioning for him to look into the window of a room that seemed to be separated off from the others and enclosed. The temperature seemed at least 10 degrees cooler as they approached.

"This is John," she said. A boy lay sleeping on a bed, but the room seemed to be coated in some sort of foil.

"He's a cryokinetic, like Bobby, except he can't regulate. As the weather gets warmer, John gets sick. He's here for now, but he's moving to Muir in a couple of weeks. He'll eventually learn how to control himself but for now he has to stay in a low temperature room."

Warren cocked his head, and played dumb. "Bobby?" It was one thing to show a connection to Jean prior to this visit, but to show that he had any connection to a mutant that wasn't in a humanitarian way...not acceptable. Brushing it off, he nodded appropriately.

Jean laughed. "Warren, no one's listening," she said, motioning toward the empty hallway.

"And if they were, I'd know it."

"Do you read their thoughts?" Warren was genuinely curious. He knew that Jean was far more ethical than he, but sometimes, he wondered. After all, she spent many hours in the hospital, and exhaustion made people do strange things. "I would think being able to really see into the patients' minds would help with their examinations."

"Only with permission, or if absolutely necessary," Jean said, moving on down the hallway. She spoke quietly, not deliberate enough to draw attention.

"Life or death, or if I need to get someone out of the hospital without being seen," she added, then shrugged. "But...sometimes there's bleed. Especially with the strong emotions....fear, sadness, pain...."

She glanced away. "It can get really hard when you're working on them and they die."

"I don't know how you do that." He shook his head. "Death, all the time. People don't always come to the hospital to get better. It must be taxing."

Silent for a few moments, Jean's pace slowed. "It can be," she admitted, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear.

"But I want to make sure they're not alone," she said, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "Especially the ones who aren't ready for it and there's nothing we can do."

She let out a breath, putting her hand to her lips. "Breaks my heart every time, but...I feel....I feel better that I was able to comfort them in some small way."

There was just something about Jean. She was too pure for him. Whenever he was around her, he felt that uncomfortable tug on the insides which meant a feeling was trying to escape. "This is why you're the doctor and I'm not," he said airily. "Now show me more, so I can donate money."

Jean glanced up, then smiled. "You're still making a difference, though. I--The hospital really appreciates it," she said. Slipping her hands into her pockets, Jean continued on.

"Next up is the burn unit..."