Jean and Amanda: Dissonance
Oct. 9th, 2017 07:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logs Amanda gets the person she least wanted to give her a checkup after her trip to the Dark Dimension.
Amanda shifted in her seat and winced. Being slammed into walls by mindless monsters wasn't her idea of a fun time, and now the adrenaline was wearing off, she suspected she'd come close to dislocating something, to judge from the fact that she was having trouble raising her right arm. A dip in New York would help, but she didn't want to chance that until she'd purged the Dark Dimension from her system. Best not to mix the power sources. Or was that crossing the streams? She snorted - apparently she'd spent way too much time with Doug.
Footsteps echoed in the hall and she looked up to see who it was. Hopefully someone with painkillers.
Jean entered the room, her pace quick. She didn't meet Amanda's eye as she crossed over to the cabinet in the medlab exam room and pulled out the necessary equipment for an exam. Moving back toward Amanda, she finally met her eyes, though they were regarded as if she were a stranger, or worse.
"I need you to hop up on the exam bed so I can get a better look," she said.
Of course. It had to be Jean. Amanda mentally cursed Murphy, patron saint of annoying coincidences, and heaved herself up off the chair, setting her teeth at the all-over ache. Moving slowly, she levered herself up onto the table. "'M surprised you're working," she observed neutrally. "After all the shite that went on in that place."
Pulling her stethoscope out of her pocket, Jean slipped it around her neck before she came up behind Amanda.
"We don't need to do small talk," she said simply. She put the stethoscope in her ears. "Just tell me where it hurts. I'll check for broken ribs or dislocations, prescribe you something if need be, and you can be on your way."
Well, that was that, apparently. Except Amanda still had her perverse moments where she poked at a situation just because. Plus all this bottling was part of Jean's problems any way - she needed to get mad now and then. But she also knew better than to antagonize the person with the pain pills, so she meekly obeyed Jean's instructions until the end of the exam.
Fifteen painful minutes later (both figuratively and literally), Jean was returning back into the medlab room with two bottles of pills.
"The wrapping should help with your shoulder and cracked ribs. Don't move around a lot or you'll be stuck this way for longer. Otherwise, everything is mostly just bumps and bruises," she said.
She held up the pills. "This one is for inflammation," she said, shaking a bottle. "This one is for the pain. Take them according to what's written on the bottle. No more, no less."
She offered them to her. Despite her issues she couldn't not talk during a diagnosis.
Amanda took the offered pills, but didn't leave, not just yet. "So," she said deliberately looking Jean in the eye. "How long is this going to go on for?"
Jean didn't flinch. She kept the gaze, narrowing her eyes slightly as she tilted her head.
"After what you did? Probably awhile," she said.
"And what exactly did I do? According to you, that is." It came out a little more aggressively than she'd meant, but she was in pain and this was stupid.
Jean's eyes widened. "What exactly did you--" she said incredulously, leaning forward to make sure she heard her correctly. "You let Quentin KILL HIMSELF!"
Un-fucking-believable.
Ah, there was the anger. Good. Amanda avoided moving back as Jean leaned forward, but only because her ribs hurt. "Yes, I did. Or, to put it another way, I supported an already dying adult in his choice to make his death meaningful and stop you from sacrificing yourself and probably making things a lot worse."
Jean closed the gap. Her green eyes flashed as she clenched her fists together. "Meaningful?" she growled.
"I could have stopped the Shadow King. And even if I wasn't able, I was ready to do whatever it took to save Quentin. And you should've too. Instead you gave up! On one of my stu--" She cut herself off. She knew he hadn't been her student for awhile, but he started off that way.
She swallowed. "He was one of our own. And you gave up on him. What's to stop you from doing that to someone else? Why should I trust you anymore?"
Blue eyes met green, their expression so much older than the witch herself. "He was dying, Jean. We couldn't save him. We could save you - and possibly a lot of other people, if you were wrong about stopping the Shadow King. Did you think about that, when you were ready to do whatever it took? About everyone the Shadow King could have damaged or killed with your powers? You're a lot stronger than Quentin ever was."
Amanda's expression softened. "I know how it is, Jean, to face losing someone you've taught. It shouldn't happen. But in this case, there was nothing else to be done."
Jean held Amanda's gaze, unwavering for few moments until her face shifted, flickering between anger, to disbelief, to sadness, and a hundred other emotions as a tear slipped down. She finally glanced away, folding her arms as she walked away, pacing a little.
"I thought about a lot of things," she said faintly. She continued to pace. Her conversation with Quentin rattled around in her head. She didn't blame him anymore but she couldn't let go of that moment, watching him take his life in front of her eyes.
"And maybe it happened the best way it could have. I guess I just---can't help but feel...helpless," she let out a breath.
"Because I was responsible. For bringing Parker in. The Shadow King wanted me. And he hurt so many people in the crossfire because I couldn't fight him the first time. I wasn't strong enough. I just...I need to make up for it somehow."
"Would you say a rape victim was responsible because someone wanted them?" Harsh, but Amanda wasn't in the mood for subtlety.
"You were a target, Jean, just the same as Quentin was, and that's no-one's responsibility except the Shadow fucking King himself. I get the guilt, believe me I've done it often enough myself, but giving yourself to that monster in the hope that you might be able to beat him wasn't going to make up for anything. Quentin knew what he was doing - I had to make sure he could do it."
Jean flinched with Amanda's analogy, a faint look of hurt flashing across her face before disappearing to reflection as she listened. After Amanda finished, Jean turned.
"Quentin only hoped he knew what he was doing.You only hoped he was right too," she said. It was the certainty in the other woman's words towards Quentin's actions that had her upset.
"He's only had a few years to come into understanding his powers.... I've had decades. But you knew the Shadow King's MO. And you still let Quentin sacrifice himself, without even trying to think of another way. Trap him. Something. Because even after he killed himself, the Shadow King still survived," she said. Like he always does.
"If Quentin knew what he was doing, they'd both be dead and gone. Forever. But he didn't. He guessed." She shook her head, rubbing her forehead. "I know you did what you thought was best. But I think we were both wrong."
Amanda nodded. "You're probably right," she said quietly. "I'm sorry it came down the way it did - there weren't a lot of good choices at all. Quentin had made his; it seemed the best of a bloody bad situation to let him follow through. One dead body instead of hundreds." Or millions, she thought, knowing Jean wouldn't be able to 'hear' her through Xorn's mental barrier.
Jean looked down, folding her arms.
"Maybe," she said faintly.
It'd taken her awhile to admit to herself she was letting her heart overcome her head in her decisions, even with the warning signs. Her dreams. Her own earlier feelings. Overriding logic with hope. It meant realizing that there was no simple way. No way that ended in a peaceful, joyous outcome.
Amanda watched Jean's face, seeing that realization dawn. "I'm sorry," she said softly.
This, she reflected, was the core difference between the X-Men and X-Force. The X-Men were heroes, needed to believe there was something they could do every time. X-Force... weren't. She wanted to comfort Jean in some way, but knew there wasn't anything she could do or say. Not now.
Jean glanced over to Amanda. For a brief moment, her exhaustion showed in her eyes before she masked it with a soft smile. There was even a hint of her usual touch of warmth.
"Thanks," she said. It was heartfelt.
"Did you need anything else? I need to take care of some other things."
"I know the way back. Go on, get some rest."
Amanda shifted in her seat and winced. Being slammed into walls by mindless monsters wasn't her idea of a fun time, and now the adrenaline was wearing off, she suspected she'd come close to dislocating something, to judge from the fact that she was having trouble raising her right arm. A dip in New York would help, but she didn't want to chance that until she'd purged the Dark Dimension from her system. Best not to mix the power sources. Or was that crossing the streams? She snorted - apparently she'd spent way too much time with Doug.
Footsteps echoed in the hall and she looked up to see who it was. Hopefully someone with painkillers.
Jean entered the room, her pace quick. She didn't meet Amanda's eye as she crossed over to the cabinet in the medlab exam room and pulled out the necessary equipment for an exam. Moving back toward Amanda, she finally met her eyes, though they were regarded as if she were a stranger, or worse.
"I need you to hop up on the exam bed so I can get a better look," she said.
Of course. It had to be Jean. Amanda mentally cursed Murphy, patron saint of annoying coincidences, and heaved herself up off the chair, setting her teeth at the all-over ache. Moving slowly, she levered herself up onto the table. "'M surprised you're working," she observed neutrally. "After all the shite that went on in that place."
Pulling her stethoscope out of her pocket, Jean slipped it around her neck before she came up behind Amanda.
"We don't need to do small talk," she said simply. She put the stethoscope in her ears. "Just tell me where it hurts. I'll check for broken ribs or dislocations, prescribe you something if need be, and you can be on your way."
Well, that was that, apparently. Except Amanda still had her perverse moments where she poked at a situation just because. Plus all this bottling was part of Jean's problems any way - she needed to get mad now and then. But she also knew better than to antagonize the person with the pain pills, so she meekly obeyed Jean's instructions until the end of the exam.
Fifteen painful minutes later (both figuratively and literally), Jean was returning back into the medlab room with two bottles of pills.
"The wrapping should help with your shoulder and cracked ribs. Don't move around a lot or you'll be stuck this way for longer. Otherwise, everything is mostly just bumps and bruises," she said.
She held up the pills. "This one is for inflammation," she said, shaking a bottle. "This one is for the pain. Take them according to what's written on the bottle. No more, no less."
She offered them to her. Despite her issues she couldn't not talk during a diagnosis.
Amanda took the offered pills, but didn't leave, not just yet. "So," she said deliberately looking Jean in the eye. "How long is this going to go on for?"
Jean didn't flinch. She kept the gaze, narrowing her eyes slightly as she tilted her head.
"After what you did? Probably awhile," she said.
"And what exactly did I do? According to you, that is." It came out a little more aggressively than she'd meant, but she was in pain and this was stupid.
Jean's eyes widened. "What exactly did you--" she said incredulously, leaning forward to make sure she heard her correctly. "You let Quentin KILL HIMSELF!"
Un-fucking-believable.
Ah, there was the anger. Good. Amanda avoided moving back as Jean leaned forward, but only because her ribs hurt. "Yes, I did. Or, to put it another way, I supported an already dying adult in his choice to make his death meaningful and stop you from sacrificing yourself and probably making things a lot worse."
Jean closed the gap. Her green eyes flashed as she clenched her fists together. "Meaningful?" she growled.
"I could have stopped the Shadow King. And even if I wasn't able, I was ready to do whatever it took to save Quentin. And you should've too. Instead you gave up! On one of my stu--" She cut herself off. She knew he hadn't been her student for awhile, but he started off that way.
She swallowed. "He was one of our own. And you gave up on him. What's to stop you from doing that to someone else? Why should I trust you anymore?"
Blue eyes met green, their expression so much older than the witch herself. "He was dying, Jean. We couldn't save him. We could save you - and possibly a lot of other people, if you were wrong about stopping the Shadow King. Did you think about that, when you were ready to do whatever it took? About everyone the Shadow King could have damaged or killed with your powers? You're a lot stronger than Quentin ever was."
Amanda's expression softened. "I know how it is, Jean, to face losing someone you've taught. It shouldn't happen. But in this case, there was nothing else to be done."
Jean held Amanda's gaze, unwavering for few moments until her face shifted, flickering between anger, to disbelief, to sadness, and a hundred other emotions as a tear slipped down. She finally glanced away, folding her arms as she walked away, pacing a little.
"I thought about a lot of things," she said faintly. She continued to pace. Her conversation with Quentin rattled around in her head. She didn't blame him anymore but she couldn't let go of that moment, watching him take his life in front of her eyes.
"And maybe it happened the best way it could have. I guess I just---can't help but feel...helpless," she let out a breath.
"Because I was responsible. For bringing Parker in. The Shadow King wanted me. And he hurt so many people in the crossfire because I couldn't fight him the first time. I wasn't strong enough. I just...I need to make up for it somehow."
"Would you say a rape victim was responsible because someone wanted them?" Harsh, but Amanda wasn't in the mood for subtlety.
"You were a target, Jean, just the same as Quentin was, and that's no-one's responsibility except the Shadow fucking King himself. I get the guilt, believe me I've done it often enough myself, but giving yourself to that monster in the hope that you might be able to beat him wasn't going to make up for anything. Quentin knew what he was doing - I had to make sure he could do it."
Jean flinched with Amanda's analogy, a faint look of hurt flashing across her face before disappearing to reflection as she listened. After Amanda finished, Jean turned.
"Quentin only hoped he knew what he was doing.You only hoped he was right too," she said. It was the certainty in the other woman's words towards Quentin's actions that had her upset.
"He's only had a few years to come into understanding his powers.... I've had decades. But you knew the Shadow King's MO. And you still let Quentin sacrifice himself, without even trying to think of another way. Trap him. Something. Because even after he killed himself, the Shadow King still survived," she said. Like he always does.
"If Quentin knew what he was doing, they'd both be dead and gone. Forever. But he didn't. He guessed." She shook her head, rubbing her forehead. "I know you did what you thought was best. But I think we were both wrong."
Amanda nodded. "You're probably right," she said quietly. "I'm sorry it came down the way it did - there weren't a lot of good choices at all. Quentin had made his; it seemed the best of a bloody bad situation to let him follow through. One dead body instead of hundreds." Or millions, she thought, knowing Jean wouldn't be able to 'hear' her through Xorn's mental barrier.
Jean looked down, folding her arms.
"Maybe," she said faintly.
It'd taken her awhile to admit to herself she was letting her heart overcome her head in her decisions, even with the warning signs. Her dreams. Her own earlier feelings. Overriding logic with hope. It meant realizing that there was no simple way. No way that ended in a peaceful, joyous outcome.
Amanda watched Jean's face, seeing that realization dawn. "I'm sorry," she said softly.
This, she reflected, was the core difference between the X-Men and X-Force. The X-Men were heroes, needed to believe there was something they could do every time. X-Force... weren't. She wanted to comfort Jean in some way, but knew there wasn't anything she could do or say. Not now.
Jean glanced over to Amanda. For a brief moment, her exhaustion showed in her eyes before she masked it with a soft smile. There was even a hint of her usual touch of warmth.
"Thanks," she said. It was heartfelt.
"Did you need anything else? I need to take care of some other things."
"I know the way back. Go on, get some rest."
