Jean and Haller: Welcome Back (Backdated)
Apr. 24th, 2024 04:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsJean catches up with Haller after his return from Muir.
It was strange how rapidly the landscape could change in just a few weeks. It had been March when he'd left, but in the time between departure and return the trees had begun to flower.
It was a nice day, and the blooming dogwoods looked like low-drifting clouds in the mid-morning light. Jim had grabbed a pad and pencil, settled into one of the garden chairs, and succumbed to the urge to sketch.
"Do my eyes deceive me?" A voice spoke up before Jean poked her head around the corner with a grin. "Welcome back, stranger."
The older man blinked, but the warm voice and shine of red hair in the climbing sun were unmistakable. He smiled.
"Jean," he replied, putting down the pencil. "I am, thanks. Sorry, I probably should've made a follow-up appointment when I got back, huh? It was a little spur-of-the-moment."
"That would have been nice but...I figured you'd make your way around to say hi eventually," Jean said, taking a seat on a nearby bench. She tilted her head.
"Either that or hide in your room. It was a 50/50 shot."
Jim snorted. "No, that doesn't work. Not when Sooraya literally knows where I live." He settled back, and although his posture was relaxed there was a certain hesitation in his voice when he asked, "How's everyone here been doing?"
Jean paused thoughtfully. "That's a very broad question," she said. She pulled her legs underneath her so she was cross legged on the bench.
"The teenagers who were kidnapped are...adjusting. The adults are fussing over them. And of course you saw your retrieval party so...you know how they are."
Jim winced. "Those poor kids. And adults. I don't miss being student counselor. I checked in with Shatterstar, but that was about it." He stretched his long legs out in front of him and shook his head. "I'm still trying to emotionally recover from a welcome party that included both Warren <I>and</I> Jessica. There are a lot of things a jetlagged brain isn't prepared to see, and I discovered that one was in my top five."
"That was a surprise," Jean mused. "Guess they all missed you enough to put aside differences. A miracle."
She laid down on the bench, looking up at the sky. "It's a little odd having students again. I don't know how to react around them."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "In what sense?"
Jean shrugged. "I haven't really had many opportunities to interact. Not many of them have been hurt...I don't need to train a lot of them since they're covered...Except for Hope...who is apparently my granddaughter."
Jim choked.
"Sorry," he said as soon as he'd managed to stop laughing, which had taken a frankly inappropriate amount of time, "I actually forgot about that. Probably not the gift you were expecting last Christmas."
Sitting up, Jean stared at him blankly and then telekinetically sent the sketchbook flying at Jim's chest, papers going everywhere.
"Glad you can," she hrphmed, folding her arms.
"Rogue wants to call me 'Glamma Jean.'"
The older man shielded his face with his hands. "If it helps, you look great?" he called into the flurry of paper. "Sorry, sorry. I swear it was sympathy laughter. I was in my twenties when I found out the professor was my dad, remember? It wasn't great. Like, 'react so badly I split my brain into five different parts, which then fought' not great. I empathize."
"Pfft. Do not make me throw you into the fountain, Jimothy. At least your discovery doesn't involve alternate dimensions," Jean said.
Jim waved a hand. "Alternate dimensions don't count. It's not like you have to start cashing Social Security checks now. Just think of it as a harmless look at what might have been. Or a way to judge your other self's choices."
"Or vice versa," Jean said, sitting up. "I think she's still alive. What if she comes here looking for Hope? Or even my...son." She let out a breath.
"You're just lucky you haven't had to meet an alternate version of yourself yet. Your alters don't count." She paused, tilting her head.
"Not that I've really...met one of my selves yet. But the ones I know about sure create trouble. Or...die."
Jim hesitated. For a moment the only sound was the rustle of loose papers in the wind.
"You're the third 'you' I've met," he said at last. "Not that I knew the Dark Phoenix in any meaningful way, but . . . you know. I don't know anything about quantum theory, or whatever the science behind the multiverse is, but I think it comes down to our experiences within that world. How we're raised, what we've seen, what we've been through. Some nature, but a lot of nurture." Jim smiled crookedly. "The kind of life we've lived is a big part of the choices we make. Your life is unique to you. So what those other Jeans did, or what they were like . . . that was them. You're you."
Jean laughed. "I know. Sometimes things just happen that remind me just how... interesting how our lives are. It's one thing to imagine the possibilities of who you could be, but it's entirely another to be able to see the results. Or know people who've met...you, let alone be your grandchild. Let me have my moment to acknowledge the weird."
"Okay, okay, you're allowed. The universe and its possibilities are infinite. It's definitely the kind of question that could give someone an existential crisis." Jim was silent again, giving the moment the respect it deserved.
Then:
"So do you think she's going to get you something for Mother's Day?"
"Your days are numbered, Xavier Jr.," Jean said, running her thumb along her neck, complete with sound effect.
This got a snort. "Go ahead and roll the dice. What if an alternate version of me shows up and decides to start charging you people rent?"
"Give it time, I'm sure he'll show up," Jean said, resting her chin in her hand.
"As long as he covers my patients and manages not to make anyone else's powers go haywire, I wish him luck." The older man returned the last of the loose pages to his sketchbook and raised his eyes to study Jean.
"How have you been doing?" he asked. He softened the question with a smile. "Choices made by your alternate selves aside."
Jean shrugged. "Can't complain at the moment. So I'll take that when I can get it. Except for a few things I can't control...which I am choosing to try to let go of."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "You mean like work?"
"Something like that," Jean said simply. She'd realized she had already said too much and wasn't going to go any further.
Jim frowned. Maybe it had something to do with doctor-patient confidentiality, or maybe it was simply a topic she was tired of dealing with, but either way Jean's expression had closed like a door. This was a loose thread he'd simply have to resist the urge to pick at.
"Okay," he said, and tried to salvage the mood. "Anything else going on? Maybe something less cryptic?"
Tapping her chin, Jean squinted. "Garrison and I are on date number...6, I think. Do you really call them dates if you're dating though? Or are they just...outings?"
One blink. Then two. "Wait," Jim said, "you and Garrison? When did that happen?"
Jean paused, forgetting she hadn't told him. "Uh...not long. Couple of months? Our first date had a side of...psionic issues but it went a lot smoother after that."
"Psionic . . ?" A terrible suspicion came over him. "Oh, no. Don't tell me . . . this was after I came out of the coma?"
Shifting uncomfortably, Jean slowly nodded. "Yeah. Apparently I made Garrison and I see and hear Olivier. I nearly fought him at laser tag place. Garrison took me home and he stayed with me. But when we woke up...I looked like Olivier too. Took awhile for it to wear off. Amanda had to confirm it wasn't magic. It was me."
"Oh, god. Jean, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that's how it . . ." Jim forced himself to stop. What had so many people, even Jean herself, told him about not blaming himself for things he couldn't control? He pulled a deep breath and dragged a hand down his face.
"Great," he said. "So I cockblocked the woman who psychically reconstructed me. That's a new personal best."
Jean didn't know what to say to that. She fell silent for a moment or two. "I know it wasn't intentional. That's why I hadn't brought it up," she said finally. She shrugged.
"And it was only the one date, if that helps."
"Well, that's something, at least." Jim rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and straightened. "Okay. Sooraya will rightfully smack me if I start perseverating on that again, so let's just move on to the part where I'm happy for you. Garrison's a nice guy, and I know your luck with dating has been . . . not the best."
Jean laughed. "You don't say," she said.
Her laugh brought a faint smile. "You've gone through the checklist, right? Psychic hitchhikers, associations with terrorist cells, future grandchildren from an alternate dimension . . ."
"Can't forget bigoted anti-mutant football stars and oblivious multimillionaires," Jean said. She made a face.
"I really know how to pick them."
Now it was Jim's turn to laugh. "Try to look at it like this: after all of that, the law of averages is on your side. You've got to find a good one eventually, right?"
"Right," Jean said with a smile. With all that bad luck surely the odds surely would get better.
It was strange how rapidly the landscape could change in just a few weeks. It had been March when he'd left, but in the time between departure and return the trees had begun to flower.
It was a nice day, and the blooming dogwoods looked like low-drifting clouds in the mid-morning light. Jim had grabbed a pad and pencil, settled into one of the garden chairs, and succumbed to the urge to sketch.
"Do my eyes deceive me?" A voice spoke up before Jean poked her head around the corner with a grin. "Welcome back, stranger."
The older man blinked, but the warm voice and shine of red hair in the climbing sun were unmistakable. He smiled.
"Jean," he replied, putting down the pencil. "I am, thanks. Sorry, I probably should've made a follow-up appointment when I got back, huh? It was a little spur-of-the-moment."
"That would have been nice but...I figured you'd make your way around to say hi eventually," Jean said, taking a seat on a nearby bench. She tilted her head.
"Either that or hide in your room. It was a 50/50 shot."
Jim snorted. "No, that doesn't work. Not when Sooraya literally knows where I live." He settled back, and although his posture was relaxed there was a certain hesitation in his voice when he asked, "How's everyone here been doing?"
Jean paused thoughtfully. "That's a very broad question," she said. She pulled her legs underneath her so she was cross legged on the bench.
"The teenagers who were kidnapped are...adjusting. The adults are fussing over them. And of course you saw your retrieval party so...you know how they are."
Jim winced. "Those poor kids. And adults. I don't miss being student counselor. I checked in with Shatterstar, but that was about it." He stretched his long legs out in front of him and shook his head. "I'm still trying to emotionally recover from a welcome party that included both Warren <I>and</I> Jessica. There are a lot of things a jetlagged brain isn't prepared to see, and I discovered that one was in my top five."
"That was a surprise," Jean mused. "Guess they all missed you enough to put aside differences. A miracle."
She laid down on the bench, looking up at the sky. "It's a little odd having students again. I don't know how to react around them."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "In what sense?"
Jean shrugged. "I haven't really had many opportunities to interact. Not many of them have been hurt...I don't need to train a lot of them since they're covered...Except for Hope...who is apparently my granddaughter."
Jim choked.
"Sorry," he said as soon as he'd managed to stop laughing, which had taken a frankly inappropriate amount of time, "I actually forgot about that. Probably not the gift you were expecting last Christmas."
Sitting up, Jean stared at him blankly and then telekinetically sent the sketchbook flying at Jim's chest, papers going everywhere.
"Glad you can," she hrphmed, folding her arms.
"Rogue wants to call me 'Glamma Jean.'"
The older man shielded his face with his hands. "If it helps, you look great?" he called into the flurry of paper. "Sorry, sorry. I swear it was sympathy laughter. I was in my twenties when I found out the professor was my dad, remember? It wasn't great. Like, 'react so badly I split my brain into five different parts, which then fought' not great. I empathize."
"Pfft. Do not make me throw you into the fountain, Jimothy. At least your discovery doesn't involve alternate dimensions," Jean said.
Jim waved a hand. "Alternate dimensions don't count. It's not like you have to start cashing Social Security checks now. Just think of it as a harmless look at what might have been. Or a way to judge your other self's choices."
"Or vice versa," Jean said, sitting up. "I think she's still alive. What if she comes here looking for Hope? Or even my...son." She let out a breath.
"You're just lucky you haven't had to meet an alternate version of yourself yet. Your alters don't count." She paused, tilting her head.
"Not that I've really...met one of my selves yet. But the ones I know about sure create trouble. Or...die."
Jim hesitated. For a moment the only sound was the rustle of loose papers in the wind.
"You're the third 'you' I've met," he said at last. "Not that I knew the Dark Phoenix in any meaningful way, but . . . you know. I don't know anything about quantum theory, or whatever the science behind the multiverse is, but I think it comes down to our experiences within that world. How we're raised, what we've seen, what we've been through. Some nature, but a lot of nurture." Jim smiled crookedly. "The kind of life we've lived is a big part of the choices we make. Your life is unique to you. So what those other Jeans did, or what they were like . . . that was them. You're you."
Jean laughed. "I know. Sometimes things just happen that remind me just how... interesting how our lives are. It's one thing to imagine the possibilities of who you could be, but it's entirely another to be able to see the results. Or know people who've met...you, let alone be your grandchild. Let me have my moment to acknowledge the weird."
"Okay, okay, you're allowed. The universe and its possibilities are infinite. It's definitely the kind of question that could give someone an existential crisis." Jim was silent again, giving the moment the respect it deserved.
Then:
"So do you think she's going to get you something for Mother's Day?"
"Your days are numbered, Xavier Jr.," Jean said, running her thumb along her neck, complete with sound effect.
This got a snort. "Go ahead and roll the dice. What if an alternate version of me shows up and decides to start charging you people rent?"
"Give it time, I'm sure he'll show up," Jean said, resting her chin in her hand.
"As long as he covers my patients and manages not to make anyone else's powers go haywire, I wish him luck." The older man returned the last of the loose pages to his sketchbook and raised his eyes to study Jean.
"How have you been doing?" he asked. He softened the question with a smile. "Choices made by your alternate selves aside."
Jean shrugged. "Can't complain at the moment. So I'll take that when I can get it. Except for a few things I can't control...which I am choosing to try to let go of."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "You mean like work?"
"Something like that," Jean said simply. She'd realized she had already said too much and wasn't going to go any further.
Jim frowned. Maybe it had something to do with doctor-patient confidentiality, or maybe it was simply a topic she was tired of dealing with, but either way Jean's expression had closed like a door. This was a loose thread he'd simply have to resist the urge to pick at.
"Okay," he said, and tried to salvage the mood. "Anything else going on? Maybe something less cryptic?"
Tapping her chin, Jean squinted. "Garrison and I are on date number...6, I think. Do you really call them dates if you're dating though? Or are they just...outings?"
One blink. Then two. "Wait," Jim said, "you and Garrison? When did that happen?"
Jean paused, forgetting she hadn't told him. "Uh...not long. Couple of months? Our first date had a side of...psionic issues but it went a lot smoother after that."
"Psionic . . ?" A terrible suspicion came over him. "Oh, no. Don't tell me . . . this was after I came out of the coma?"
Shifting uncomfortably, Jean slowly nodded. "Yeah. Apparently I made Garrison and I see and hear Olivier. I nearly fought him at laser tag place. Garrison took me home and he stayed with me. But when we woke up...I looked like Olivier too. Took awhile for it to wear off. Amanda had to confirm it wasn't magic. It was me."
"Oh, god. Jean, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that's how it . . ." Jim forced himself to stop. What had so many people, even Jean herself, told him about not blaming himself for things he couldn't control? He pulled a deep breath and dragged a hand down his face.
"Great," he said. "So I cockblocked the woman who psychically reconstructed me. That's a new personal best."
Jean didn't know what to say to that. She fell silent for a moment or two. "I know it wasn't intentional. That's why I hadn't brought it up," she said finally. She shrugged.
"And it was only the one date, if that helps."
"Well, that's something, at least." Jim rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and straightened. "Okay. Sooraya will rightfully smack me if I start perseverating on that again, so let's just move on to the part where I'm happy for you. Garrison's a nice guy, and I know your luck with dating has been . . . not the best."
Jean laughed. "You don't say," she said.
Her laugh brought a faint smile. "You've gone through the checklist, right? Psychic hitchhikers, associations with terrorist cells, future grandchildren from an alternate dimension . . ."
"Can't forget bigoted anti-mutant football stars and oblivious multimillionaires," Jean said. She made a face.
"I really know how to pick them."
Now it was Jim's turn to laugh. "Try to look at it like this: after all of that, the law of averages is on your side. You've got to find a good one eventually, right?"
"Right," Jean said with a smile. With all that bad luck surely the odds surely would get better.
