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xp_logs2004-11-03 03:42 pm
x-polarisstar.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2004-11-03 03:42 pm
Wednesday, boathouse
Lorna reaches the anger part of her grieving process and go to see someone who she thinks won’t mind her ranting. Remy gives her alcohol and some advice.
Lorna jogged down the path to the boathouse, a container of cookies in her arms. It was cold enough to keep her moving at a brisk pace just to stay warm and Lorna took a moment to remember why she hated New England’s insistence on seasons. She reached the boathouse door and rapped on it sharply, shivering just a bit.
Remy looked up from his newspaper, unaccustomed to late visitors. Or visitors at all, to be honest. He set the pile down on the kitchen table and padded over to the door. The puzzlement turned to a smile as he caught sight of Lorna through the glass.
"Not even a mansion could keep us apart, chere." He joked as he opened the door.
She smiled in spite of herself, “Hi. Can I come in?” She held up the cookies, “I come bearing gifts…well, bribes, really.”
"Bribes? Not exactly sure you need to bribe me any more, chere. Come in." Remy said, stepping aside for her to enter. She put the cookies on the table and sat down as he opened the fridge. "'fraid dat Cain's tastes run more towards de truck-stop end of de menu. You want something? Beer, soda?"
“No thanks.” She shook her head, shrugging off her heavy jacket in the relative warmth of the kitchen. Being as it was a kitchen, she was instantly more relaxed, Pavlovian in her reactions. “I thought it was only wise to provide a bribe when I just came down here to rant on your shoulder. Though really, only half of them are for you. The chocolate chip ones are for Cain.”
"Figured dat homme liked his pork-flavoured." Remy joked, settling into a chair across from her. "So, a rant? Dat's not what I expected. For what Remy seen on de journals, you and your homme are getting along well. Something happen?"
“Right problem, wrong friend. Alison and I had a…Christ, I can’t even call it a fight.” She put her head in her hands and stared at the wood grain of the table intently. “She’s training Manuel.” Even saying it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wished belatedly that she’d accepted his offer of a drink.
"Manuel." Remy said carefully. He got up and walked over to his jacket, pulling a flask from the inside pocket and returning to the table with it. He took a swallow and set it back down, finally sure that his emotions were under control. "Dey're training Manuel now? After what he's done?"
“Oh, hadn’t you heard? It was just a matter of mistaken helping. He wasn’t trying to hurt me just for his own amusement. He wanted to help. He just didn’t know that it wouldn’t be helpful.” She laughed hollowly. “Even my own roommate believes it.”
“But you know better." Remy said, and she nodded mutely. He pushed the flask over to her. "So does Remy. Dey don't seem to understand dat he hasn't decided whether he's going to be a jackal or a human being."
She stared at the flask and lifted it, inhaling curiously. She didn’t drink often and never hard alcohol. Shrugging, she tilted it back and took a large swallow. Her eyes watered but she didn’t cough as the bourbon burned down her throat. “Even he thinks he was trying to help. It’s like I’m crazy or something.”
"He wasn't trying to help." Remy said, dismissing the entire idea. "When I met him for de first time, he nearly brought Gambit out. He prodded because it was interesting to him. He used you 'cause it was convenient for him to. Dat bastard grew up t' think of people as assets or animals dere for his bidding. And now they going to make him better at it... merde"
“Not just they. My best friend is lending her emotions to this. Letting him fuck with her head.” Lorna took another swallow from the flask, defiantly. “I begged her not to and do you know what she told me? That she gave him her word. Her word! To that…thing!”
"De Professor agreed to this, Lorna?" Remy said, a little surprised at the idea. He was well aware that he was not the fairest critic of Manuel's, but considering the possible aspects of his power and the potential for crippling emotional harm to another, Xavier's sense of caution should have stopped the idea. "Or is dis Alison's choice alone?"
“Xavier knows. He’s teaching Manuel ethics, hopefully by beating him over the head with a hardcover copy of Plato. And Alison has a spotter. Has to be one of the ‘paths.” Lorna flopped back in her chair, “See why I think I’m crazy? The most powerful telepath in the world endorses this—maybe he was just trying to help.”
"Non." Remy shook his head. "Maybe dey trying to control it, or rein in him, or maybe dey all believe it. Dat I can't say, but Lorna, I was dere. I know what happened. If dat was his idea of helping, den dat boy got de soul of a serial killer." He ran his fingers through his spikey auburn hair, vastly shorter than his former long hair, in an increasingly familar fashion.
“I just…” She looked down at the table again and bit her lip, using the pain to fight back the tears that threatened suddenly, “I can’t help thinking it would be simpler if I believed it too. But I try and try and…it just doesn’t work. He enjoyed doing that to me, using me. And no one believes me.”
Remy put his hand over hers, trying to offer his support and not knowing how; awkward and unsure. "Chere, I believe you. Dat might not be much, but it means dat it won't happen again. Not in anyway dat he's going to get away with it to try with someone else."
Lorna turned her hand palm up to meet his without really thinking about it. She was a basically tactile person; she needed contact to ground her. “I do my best to stay away from him. Not to be where he’s going to be. Avoid people he’s close to. Now he has Alison and I don’t know what to do except keep retreating.” Her hand was cold and trembling.
"Den we stand our ground. Lorna, dis is not something dat you're in alone." Remy shook his head. "Maybe de Professor has a plan. Or maybe someone involved in dis has half a brain to keep tabs on him. Either way, we do. Bet your boy is ready to help. We watch, we wait, and if he tries to play his little games, we make sure it's de last time. Otherwise, you going to be retreating forever, and he's not worth it."
Lorna opened her mouth to reply then changed her mind and shook her head, “I don’t even know what to say. The idea of standing my ground is just so…I don’t want to be near him. Not just because of how much it hurt when it was over but…” she stopped and grabbed the flask again, taking several swallows that left her coughing.
"Everyone needs to face dere demons, chere. Remy can promise to help, tell you dat he's never going to get control. But you run now, den you might end up not stopping. He's not worth giving dat type of power over you." Remy smiled ruefully. "And, unlike all de movies say, it not a dragon dat your champion can slay for you."
“I wake up at night reliving it, Remy. And the worst part is they aren’t nightmares. Or maybe they are but they’re the kind you don’t know you should fear until you wake up.” She tugged her hand away and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I could stand up to him if it was just that I had been hurt. It’s that I enjoyed it and would give anything to feel that way again…that’s why I can’t. He’ll know.”
Remy sat silently for a moment, finally picking up the flask and helping himself to a swallow. Part of him was sick with guilt for not seeing it before now, and part with helplessness for not being able to do anything. "Lorna, you got to make a decision. If you want to face it, Remy help you anyway you can. If you need to run, Remy help you dat way too. De only thing I can tell you is dat I won't let it happen again."
“I just want it to be over.” Too much bourbon and not enough food was making her head spin. She propped it up on her hands again and watched two teardrops hit the table. She sniffled and scrubbed at her eyes, “I’m so tired of being afraid of him and me and everything. I’ve thought about leaving the school, going anywhere to get away from this but I’ve got responsibilities here. I can’t just run.”
Remy put a hand on her forearm, not wanting to get too familiar, too unsure how it could be taken. "You talk to dat doctor at all? Maybe see if he's got any answers?" He said, almost desperately. He could work an agent a hundred ways for the answers he wanted, but comforting a friend was alien to him.
“Samson? Yeah, I see Len like clockwork every week.” She laughed, “Oh you mean about this? No, he’s let me get away with not talking about it so far. I’m kind of waiting to see how long he lets it go and what kind of ‘hmm’ he uses to segue into it.” She wiped her eyes again. “Though he’d be the first to say that he doesn’t have any answers. He just asks the questions.”
"If you got de answers, we're halfway dere." Remy said, a halfhearted attempt at humour. "Maybe you start dere, while we figure something out?"
“It’s an idea. And far from the worst one I’ve heard.” She slipped off her chair and circled around to Remy. She hugged him impulsively, “Thank you.”
Remy stiffened in shock. It had been the first hug he'd recieved since he could remember. He put an unsure arm around her shoulders and returned the simple gesture, trying to at least not seem as awkward as he was. "Dat's what I'm here for, chere. In de mean time, let Remy see what he can found out. Maybe dere's a solution we just haven't found yet."
She eased back, noticing and deliberately ignoring his uncertainty. “I don’t want you putting yourself in his way, Remy. I don’t care what kind of craziness you have in your head, you don’t need this. Don’t risk it. Promise me?”
"I promise dat I won't put myself at risk, chere." Remy said, already mentally hedging that he wasn't going to be the one at risk. "Besides, you know dat Remy’s a lover, not a fighter."
She frowned at him like she’d suddenly developed telepathy and was reading his thoughts but just nodded. “I know you talk big anyway,” she replied, much calmer than she’d been only a few moments before though it was hard to tell if it was a real calm or just a very good mask.
"Just to impress de femmes." Remy smiled crookedly. "Still, de actions speak louder and such. You going to be alright, at least for now?"
She nodded, “Yeah, I think so. Talking to you helped. I needed someone who wasn’t going to be horrified if I got bitchy about this.” She smiled sadly and sighed, “I love him dearly but sometimes Alex is just too nice.”
"Dat not a term dat gets applied to Remy very often. But I guess I'll take it. 'specially if de food keeps coming. Cain's tastes are pretty basic. If I never see another hotdog, it's too soon."
Lorna rolled her eyes, “I should start shipping casseroles down here. You’re going to die of malnutrition the way Cain eats.” More slowly this time, to give him time to get used to the idea, she leaned forward to give Remy a hug. “I should get going. Thank you again. You’ve been here every time I needed you. It means a lot.”
Remy returned the embrace with slightly less discomfort.
"Well, Remy can't screw up every friendship yet. Makes it hard to get partners for table tennis and things."
Lorna smiled, “Of course.” She retrieved her jacket and shrugged it back on. “I’ll see you later, Remy. Don’t eat Cain’s cookies. I would hate to hear that you’ve been squashed to jelly.” She slipped out the door and hurried back to the mansion.
Lorna jogged down the path to the boathouse, a container of cookies in her arms. It was cold enough to keep her moving at a brisk pace just to stay warm and Lorna took a moment to remember why she hated New England’s insistence on seasons. She reached the boathouse door and rapped on it sharply, shivering just a bit.
Remy looked up from his newspaper, unaccustomed to late visitors. Or visitors at all, to be honest. He set the pile down on the kitchen table and padded over to the door. The puzzlement turned to a smile as he caught sight of Lorna through the glass.
"Not even a mansion could keep us apart, chere." He joked as he opened the door.
She smiled in spite of herself, “Hi. Can I come in?” She held up the cookies, “I come bearing gifts…well, bribes, really.”
"Bribes? Not exactly sure you need to bribe me any more, chere. Come in." Remy said, stepping aside for her to enter. She put the cookies on the table and sat down as he opened the fridge. "'fraid dat Cain's tastes run more towards de truck-stop end of de menu. You want something? Beer, soda?"
“No thanks.” She shook her head, shrugging off her heavy jacket in the relative warmth of the kitchen. Being as it was a kitchen, she was instantly more relaxed, Pavlovian in her reactions. “I thought it was only wise to provide a bribe when I just came down here to rant on your shoulder. Though really, only half of them are for you. The chocolate chip ones are for Cain.”
"Figured dat homme liked his pork-flavoured." Remy joked, settling into a chair across from her. "So, a rant? Dat's not what I expected. For what Remy seen on de journals, you and your homme are getting along well. Something happen?"
“Right problem, wrong friend. Alison and I had a…Christ, I can’t even call it a fight.” She put her head in her hands and stared at the wood grain of the table intently. “She’s training Manuel.” Even saying it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wished belatedly that she’d accepted his offer of a drink.
"Manuel." Remy said carefully. He got up and walked over to his jacket, pulling a flask from the inside pocket and returning to the table with it. He took a swallow and set it back down, finally sure that his emotions were under control. "Dey're training Manuel now? After what he's done?"
“Oh, hadn’t you heard? It was just a matter of mistaken helping. He wasn’t trying to hurt me just for his own amusement. He wanted to help. He just didn’t know that it wouldn’t be helpful.” She laughed hollowly. “Even my own roommate believes it.”
“But you know better." Remy said, and she nodded mutely. He pushed the flask over to her. "So does Remy. Dey don't seem to understand dat he hasn't decided whether he's going to be a jackal or a human being."
She stared at the flask and lifted it, inhaling curiously. She didn’t drink often and never hard alcohol. Shrugging, she tilted it back and took a large swallow. Her eyes watered but she didn’t cough as the bourbon burned down her throat. “Even he thinks he was trying to help. It’s like I’m crazy or something.”
"He wasn't trying to help." Remy said, dismissing the entire idea. "When I met him for de first time, he nearly brought Gambit out. He prodded because it was interesting to him. He used you 'cause it was convenient for him to. Dat bastard grew up t' think of people as assets or animals dere for his bidding. And now they going to make him better at it... merde"
“Not just they. My best friend is lending her emotions to this. Letting him fuck with her head.” Lorna took another swallow from the flask, defiantly. “I begged her not to and do you know what she told me? That she gave him her word. Her word! To that…thing!”
"De Professor agreed to this, Lorna?" Remy said, a little surprised at the idea. He was well aware that he was not the fairest critic of Manuel's, but considering the possible aspects of his power and the potential for crippling emotional harm to another, Xavier's sense of caution should have stopped the idea. "Or is dis Alison's choice alone?"
“Xavier knows. He’s teaching Manuel ethics, hopefully by beating him over the head with a hardcover copy of Plato. And Alison has a spotter. Has to be one of the ‘paths.” Lorna flopped back in her chair, “See why I think I’m crazy? The most powerful telepath in the world endorses this—maybe he was just trying to help.”
"Non." Remy shook his head. "Maybe dey trying to control it, or rein in him, or maybe dey all believe it. Dat I can't say, but Lorna, I was dere. I know what happened. If dat was his idea of helping, den dat boy got de soul of a serial killer." He ran his fingers through his spikey auburn hair, vastly shorter than his former long hair, in an increasingly familar fashion.
“I just…” She looked down at the table again and bit her lip, using the pain to fight back the tears that threatened suddenly, “I can’t help thinking it would be simpler if I believed it too. But I try and try and…it just doesn’t work. He enjoyed doing that to me, using me. And no one believes me.”
Remy put his hand over hers, trying to offer his support and not knowing how; awkward and unsure. "Chere, I believe you. Dat might not be much, but it means dat it won't happen again. Not in anyway dat he's going to get away with it to try with someone else."
Lorna turned her hand palm up to meet his without really thinking about it. She was a basically tactile person; she needed contact to ground her. “I do my best to stay away from him. Not to be where he’s going to be. Avoid people he’s close to. Now he has Alison and I don’t know what to do except keep retreating.” Her hand was cold and trembling.
"Den we stand our ground. Lorna, dis is not something dat you're in alone." Remy shook his head. "Maybe de Professor has a plan. Or maybe someone involved in dis has half a brain to keep tabs on him. Either way, we do. Bet your boy is ready to help. We watch, we wait, and if he tries to play his little games, we make sure it's de last time. Otherwise, you going to be retreating forever, and he's not worth it."
Lorna opened her mouth to reply then changed her mind and shook her head, “I don’t even know what to say. The idea of standing my ground is just so…I don’t want to be near him. Not just because of how much it hurt when it was over but…” she stopped and grabbed the flask again, taking several swallows that left her coughing.
"Everyone needs to face dere demons, chere. Remy can promise to help, tell you dat he's never going to get control. But you run now, den you might end up not stopping. He's not worth giving dat type of power over you." Remy smiled ruefully. "And, unlike all de movies say, it not a dragon dat your champion can slay for you."
“I wake up at night reliving it, Remy. And the worst part is they aren’t nightmares. Or maybe they are but they’re the kind you don’t know you should fear until you wake up.” She tugged her hand away and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I could stand up to him if it was just that I had been hurt. It’s that I enjoyed it and would give anything to feel that way again…that’s why I can’t. He’ll know.”
Remy sat silently for a moment, finally picking up the flask and helping himself to a swallow. Part of him was sick with guilt for not seeing it before now, and part with helplessness for not being able to do anything. "Lorna, you got to make a decision. If you want to face it, Remy help you anyway you can. If you need to run, Remy help you dat way too. De only thing I can tell you is dat I won't let it happen again."
“I just want it to be over.” Too much bourbon and not enough food was making her head spin. She propped it up on her hands again and watched two teardrops hit the table. She sniffled and scrubbed at her eyes, “I’m so tired of being afraid of him and me and everything. I’ve thought about leaving the school, going anywhere to get away from this but I’ve got responsibilities here. I can’t just run.”
Remy put a hand on her forearm, not wanting to get too familiar, too unsure how it could be taken. "You talk to dat doctor at all? Maybe see if he's got any answers?" He said, almost desperately. He could work an agent a hundred ways for the answers he wanted, but comforting a friend was alien to him.
“Samson? Yeah, I see Len like clockwork every week.” She laughed, “Oh you mean about this? No, he’s let me get away with not talking about it so far. I’m kind of waiting to see how long he lets it go and what kind of ‘hmm’ he uses to segue into it.” She wiped her eyes again. “Though he’d be the first to say that he doesn’t have any answers. He just asks the questions.”
"If you got de answers, we're halfway dere." Remy said, a halfhearted attempt at humour. "Maybe you start dere, while we figure something out?"
“It’s an idea. And far from the worst one I’ve heard.” She slipped off her chair and circled around to Remy. She hugged him impulsively, “Thank you.”
Remy stiffened in shock. It had been the first hug he'd recieved since he could remember. He put an unsure arm around her shoulders and returned the simple gesture, trying to at least not seem as awkward as he was. "Dat's what I'm here for, chere. In de mean time, let Remy see what he can found out. Maybe dere's a solution we just haven't found yet."
She eased back, noticing and deliberately ignoring his uncertainty. “I don’t want you putting yourself in his way, Remy. I don’t care what kind of craziness you have in your head, you don’t need this. Don’t risk it. Promise me?”
"I promise dat I won't put myself at risk, chere." Remy said, already mentally hedging that he wasn't going to be the one at risk. "Besides, you know dat Remy’s a lover, not a fighter."
She frowned at him like she’d suddenly developed telepathy and was reading his thoughts but just nodded. “I know you talk big anyway,” she replied, much calmer than she’d been only a few moments before though it was hard to tell if it was a real calm or just a very good mask.
"Just to impress de femmes." Remy smiled crookedly. "Still, de actions speak louder and such. You going to be alright, at least for now?"
She nodded, “Yeah, I think so. Talking to you helped. I needed someone who wasn’t going to be horrified if I got bitchy about this.” She smiled sadly and sighed, “I love him dearly but sometimes Alex is just too nice.”
"Dat not a term dat gets applied to Remy very often. But I guess I'll take it. 'specially if de food keeps coming. Cain's tastes are pretty basic. If I never see another hotdog, it's too soon."
Lorna rolled her eyes, “I should start shipping casseroles down here. You’re going to die of malnutrition the way Cain eats.” More slowly this time, to give him time to get used to the idea, she leaned forward to give Remy a hug. “I should get going. Thank you again. You’ve been here every time I needed you. It means a lot.”
Remy returned the embrace with slightly less discomfort.
"Well, Remy can't screw up every friendship yet. Makes it hard to get partners for table tennis and things."
Lorna smiled, “Of course.” She retrieved her jacket and shrugged it back on. “I’ll see you later, Remy. Don’t eat Cain’s cookies. I would hate to hear that you’ve been squashed to jelly.” She slipped out the door and hurried back to the mansion.