xp_logs | Jean and Kevin: Comfort (backdated)

xp_phoenix posting in

Kevin sees Jean after her most recent mission.

TW - Sexual assault mentioned.

"While I'm not Jewish, I support an awful lot of their traditions." Kevin said as he walked into the medlab with a large paperbag. They'd finally cleared him to see Jean, while Kyle was away for physical therapy. He walked over to her bed, pulling one of the small tables on wheels with him and putting it between them.

"Especially the unscientific yet entirely correct belief that food can solve any injury. In this case, matzah ball soup from Sol's, along with his pastrami on rye, stacked so high that it actually is breaking your Hippocratic oath to watch me eat it, an ice cold celery soda, and extra kosher pickles."

He stacked the food on the table between them, taking a seat once the bag was empty.

Jean seemed small in the hospital bed, enveloped in a sea of white linen and practically swimming in her blue printed hospital gown.

The large hand-shaped bruises on her neck had started to heal, making them look a mottled purple and yellow against the scratch marks from her own fingers that trailed down her throat. Her eyes were still blood red, and her face was swollen with a few cuts and bruises, including a split lip. She looked at the food for a moment, then turned away, shaking her head.

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry," she rasped before clearing a cough.

"You should try a little soup. It will help soothe your throat a bit." He was hoping a little forced cheerfulness would help chase a little bleakness back for a moment. Amanda had given him a rundown of the mission and what had happened, so he was under no illusions how she likely felt.

"Maybe later," she said quietly, staring at her hands. Music played, muffled on the radio outside. It did little to mask the ticking clock hung above the door. Her attention flickered toward the clock and it fell off the wall, landing with a crack. The ticking stopped.

"You shouldn't strain your powers. Anything you want to break, just let me know and I'll bring it over to you." He said lightly. "I saw some glassware coming in that would blow up a treat."

"Why not? They didn't help," Jean said bitterly as she absently rubbed at her neck.

"They didn't stop him from dying. They didn't stop me, stop us from being..." She balled up a bit of the blanket in one hand, a tear spilling down her cheek. The items on the table began to rattle.

"They were useless!" she said before descending into a fit of coughs.

"There's a big gap between being useless and being not enough." Kevin said quietly. He watched people walking around the team that returned like they were brittle glass ready to go at any minute.

In his experience, and sadly he had plenty, it only made things harder for the teams and platoons that came home short people. "Talked to your people, talked to Amanda... I don't know much about Hell-lords, but it sounded like you were all out-classed."

Jean glanced up at him, finally meeting his eyes for the first time. The blood was a stark red, making her green eyes look something like a freakish Christmas ornament. "Is that supposed to help make me feel better?" she said, wiping a tear away. "Because it's not. I fixed the goddamn universe 7 months ago. Why wasn't it enough?"

"Of course it isn't supposed to make you feel better. You came home short people. I know exactly how that feels. I know what it's like to have their blood still on you when you do." Kevin said.

"But grief and guilt are different things, Jean. You have everything to feel awful about but nothing to feel guilty about. Believe me, I've watched unearned guilt destroy too many good people."

Silent for a few moments, Jean looked away. "I didn't even get to try to save him. Costa snuffed me out...after he already..." The flash of a smile was burned across her memory, interlaced with the battle, set against a backdrop of flames.

She let out a shuddered breath, which turned into a series of rapid gasps. Her head started to swim, and she put her hand to her chest.

"I can't....b--breathe...."

"Shit!" Kevin hissed. It was a panic attack. He only knew because of that damn alternate world when he and Jean had been a couple. She had spent years getting them randomly, and even if it was fictional, he couldn't think of another way.

"Jean. Jeanie. Look at me. Look at me." He said, bending towards her but not touching her.

In their first year together in that terrible place, she couldn't even bear to be touched. Their sex life had been entirely through telepathic illusions.

"Somewhere... beyond the sea. Somewhere waiting for me. My lover stands on golden sands... and watches the ships... that go sailing."

It had been at his place in Maryland on the bay. She'd had an especially bad night and had crawled into his arms in bed, shaking and crying. He'd held her and for lack of a better idea, sang her old jazz standards softly in perfect mimicry until she was able to sleep. After that, whenever she panicked, it was the soft songs that worked to bring her through. Maybe it would work here.

Jean met his eyes again, her eyebrows furrowed, perplexed at first before another flicker of a memory, this one made up, but nevertheless still came through clearly. Swallowing, she met his eyes and focused on the song, her breathing finally slowing as she laid her head against the pillow and looked up at the ceiling as she focused on the words.

Closing her eyes for a moment, the tears streamed down her cheeks before looking back to him with a wordless nod of thanks.

"Sorry...I'm sorry..."

"It's ok, Red. You're home and you're safe. That's all you can ask for." Kevin said, putting his hands on the bed close enough that she could take, if she wanted, but not pushing her.

Jean was quiet for a moment or two, hand close but not quite touching, getting herself comfortable with the act of it again. She looked down. "There are a few things I could ask. Like finding a way to stop the one who did it," she said.

"You'll be happy to know that Wanda and Amanda and the rest of the weird shit brigade are on the case. And when we find a path, this fucker goes down. You have my word on that." Kevin said firmly.

Jean touched her neck thoughtfully. "You don't understand. I don't want to hear about it when it happens," she said, then looked up at him. "I want to be there, watching his smug face turn to fear."

"We can make that happen but..." Kevin paused, looking at her. "Is there a limit? A line? Is he going to make you into someone else, because I won't be part of that."

His words hung in the air like smoke, and Jean glanced away, her eyes haunted.

"He murdered Garrison. His weapons are being used to murder countless more in horrifying ways. And he...raped me, along with others on the team," she said, clenching her jaw as she finally said the word aloud.

"So why..." her voice cracked. "Why can he make me feel helpless, and cause so much pain, and deserve to exist?"

"Because you're better than him. Because the universe isn't just." Kevin said slowly, absorbing what she said. "Because we create the lines which separate what is right and what isn't, and if we abandon it, they win."

"Who wins? Why is it right for you? Why is it right for X-Force and not for me?" Jean whispered through tears.

"I devoted my life to helping people, saving lives, and...people like that can just..."

"Because it takes a hell of a lot more strength to draw that line and accept that is what's right." Kevin said, He dry washed his hands for a moment.

"In that other world, you know how we could be together? Because all the pain and torture convinced you to abandon that line. You could be like me and be willing to hurt and kill for a higher purpose."

He took a deep breath. "Because you're a good person and I'm not. You won't do this to him because of that. And I don't want you to change. I want you to have the line that it was too damn hard for me to stick to. You're a hero Jean, and I need you to be a hero."

Jean fell silent again, letting the words sink in. "I've never felt that helpless before," she finally said softly. "I just...I don't want to feel it again."

"I know. But you know why people try and make you feel helpless? Because they make you feel like them." Kevin said, softly. "You're not. That fear isn't better than you."

She looked down. "I still want to make sure he doesn't do it again. I want him to pay. But no...maybe I don't want him to die. Just...go somewhere far far away."

"So trust us. Trust me." Kevin said, looking into her eyes. "I promise you, I will make sure he'll face justice for this."

Biting her lip, Jean let out a breath, then nodded a little. After a moment she turned to look at the soup. "I'm guessing it's gone cold by now."

"It;s a thick case." Kevin pulled the lid and brought it over with a spoon. "Also, it's chicken soup. There's no bad there."

Jean's stomach growled at the smell of the broth and she realized just how hungry she was. "God I'm starving," she said.

Picking up the spoon, she put her face over the bowl to let the steam waft up before cutting a matzah ball into quarters and gingerly taking a bite, which promptly caused her to cough a little. Still, she got it down.

"Did I hear you say celery soda earlier? That does not sound good."

"You've never had a proper Cel Rey? It's light and crisp and..." He picked up the pastrami. "You want to try the smoked meat?"

Jean shook her head. "I'm still working on being able to eat soup," she said with a faint smile. "Maybe next time."

Deciding on broth for the moment, she sipped a little from the spoon. "Thanks for bringing it. It's different from what my mom used to make, which was mostly from a can."

"So I had a Jewish friend who'se mother would send us chicken soup every week. To strengthen us, And when we told her it didn't work like that, she'd say 'It doesn't hurt'."

"There's some merit to it," Jean said, putting her spoon down for a moment to take a break. "It can bring nourishment and psychological comfort."