Jean and Amanda/ Jean and Nathan

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean takes the chance to talk with Amanda after one of Nathan's treatments.



Amanda was sitting at Nathan's bedside again - or perhaps still, since Jean wasn't sure she'd even left. Her eyes were closed, and for a moment it seemed that perhaps she had fallen asleep. Except for the glow, that was. It was a soft warm gold, and seemed to be radiating from the girl's hands as they held Nathan's limp one.

All of his readouts were more steady, although she'd need to run him through the x-ray machine to make sure his back had progressed significantly. However, there were very strict instructions relating to Amanda and her healing and the reassuring readouts meant they had reached that point.

"Amanda," she called softly, making sure to stand well back of reach but within the girl's sightline. Jean had been told that, at this point in the healing, it would be much like waking Charles or herself from an astral trance - as long as you didn't actively interfere through touch or startle the person, it would be ok to try and 'wake' them.

With a small sigh, Amanda opened her eyes and lifted her hands away, the light dying. On the chain around her neck the crystal amulet was glowing deep, steady blue, replenishing what power she'd used. "Cuttin' it fine, was I?" she asked with a certain amount of resignation. It wasn't as if she was deliberately trying to push herself too hard, it was just bone was so dense and she had to go so carefully...

"A touch, yes," Jean answered, moving to record the current readouts in Nathan's file. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she worked, and she gestured vaguely in the direction of the snacks which had been set out for when Amanda came out of her trance.

"Pretty good, actually," Amanda sounded a little surprised. Perhaps there was something to this rationing of power. She headed for the food, grabbing an apple and leaning against the wall to munch it out of the way while Jean did her checks. "How's he doin'?"

... rationing of powers... Jean refocused on her notes. "Quite well. It looks like, depending on how he feels when he wakes up, we may be able to downgrade his painkillers soon. I know he'll be happy to be less fuzzy-headed." Finishing up her notes she glanced over at Amanda, then picked up the other file she had sitting out and flipped it open. "Can you come here?" she asked. "I want to do a quick check-up on you."

Amanda sighed under her breath and followed Jean into the other exam room where they wouldn't disturb Nathan, still munching on her apple. Ordinarily she'd point out it was Moira's job to do the poking and prodding, but Moira was so tired and worried, she wasn't about to add to that. Hopping up onto the table, she watched Jean cautiously. "Head's fine," she offered, hoping to avoid the extensive check-up with the machines that went ping. "No headache, no nosebleeds, no double vision. An' I'm a bit tired, but given I've been down here most of the time, that's not surprisin'."

"We can probably skip the pinging," Jean said as she slipped a blood preassure cuff on the non-apple holding arm, not quite aware that she was answering an unvoiced remark. "Have you been sleeping well when you actually do?"

If Jean wasn't aware, Amanda certainly was, given the amount of time she spent with Nathan, and she took a moment before answering to run one of Strange's drills through her mind, shoring up what were obviously dodgy shields. Not a good time to get lax about that sort of thing, given what she knew about Pete that she wasn't supposed to. "Some bad dreams," she said at last. "Not as bad as they used t' get after a major spell, but healin's always different that way. Less bad karma, I s'pose."

Jean blinked as she felt Amanda's shields being strengthened and realized what she must have done. She briefly caught the sense of something Amanda didn't want known, but distracted herself by finishing her measurements. "Your vitals are well within your normal range," she told the girl. "It's a fascinating power you have."

"Go me." Amanda couldn't help a slightly smug feeling of satisfaction. See? She was capable of of being responsible for her health. That thought was loud enough to slip through her shields, but she'd half intended it to. "Fascinatin's one way of puttin' it. Sometimes I wish I'd gotten somethin' a little less complicated tho'. I mean, 's all right for the others t' use their powers t' make life easier, but if I do that I end up gettin' the hairy eyeball from mystic types who give me the whole bit 'bout power bein' 'bout not usin' it."

...capable of being responsible... Jean smiled slightly. "From what I understand from Moira's notes, you metabolize energy in much the same way as some of our energy projectors do, but instead of taking solar energy or what have you, you metabolize this mystic energy? And there are far more rules about how to use mystic energy than solar energy, I pressume."

"'S not so much the energy, it's what I do with it. Magic's... complicated, like I said. I mean, if there was another way t' bleed off what I absorb, I'd be laughin'. But I'm... Forge called me an engine of sorts. Energy an' converted t' healin', or floatin' things, or shields, with the spells bein' the framework." Werelights were very small on the scale of things, so Amanda demonstrated with that. Besides, it was advancing the cause of magic in the face of science. That had to be good, right? The small green ball of light bobbed around Jean's head as she went on. "Only then you add thousands of years of history an' tradition an' the fact I'm more powerful than people three times me age who've spent all their lives studyin' and practicin' an' learnin' the rules, an' that's when it's more than just me mutation." She rolled her eyes a little. "Or I would be, if I didn't have me little problem with bein' hooked on the energy I absorb. They like t' cut me off before I start coatin' the place in sparkles for some reason."

Jean eyed the little light, wondering what it did besides just glow and bob about. ... magic in the face of science... Well, that was far more Moira or Hank's field, but she was intensely curious about the healing. "Well, that's another difference right there - they can cut you off. The only way to cut off one of the solar collectors is to take the sun away. Which has negative consequences on it's own. And clearly," she said, switching tracks, "healing must take quite large quantities of energy, hence your strict schedule."

"Well, there's no mystic sources around here, so I've got t' bring me own." Amanda snuffed out the light, and shrugged. "It's more 'n just the mystic energy - healin' takes some of me... lifeforce, I s'pose is the best way t' think of it. 'S why it drains me so much t' try an' do a big healin' - I'm pourin' meself into the spell." The notes Moira had taken about the damage done by too much magic, too soon were on her file, she knew, and she really didn't like to think about permanent brain damage that much. "An' it depends on the injury, too. What I do... 's sort of nudge the natural healin' process, like a healin' factor does. Which is why I don't touch anyone with one of those - could really fuck someone over by boostin' an already-boosted system. McCoy gave me a list, of who I can an' can't heal, an' what sort of injury. We leave the little stuff t' itself now, use me for the big things, like Nate." A hint of worry crossed her face - Nathan was so badly hurt, and it was hard not to worry about him when he was lying there so still and so helpless looking, even with the knowledge everyone was doing their best.

She had seen the list of limitations, but talking with Amanda helped understanding the reasons behind them more clear. But, felling the worry in Amanda's mind, Jean switched tracks. "He will be fine," she told Amanda. "I promise you. And I don't mean to be prying, I really can't help it these days."

"Oh, I know he will. Just don't like seein' him like that." Amanda made the effort to get her shields back together again, a little more gently this time. No point being rude about it. "An' don't worry 'bout it. Nate was the same when he was workin' on his shields, an' I need t' learn t' keep me head buttoned up. Me magic tutor'd be makin' that disapprovin' face at me right now. He tends t' be all 'bout the mental stuff, instead of the flashy sort of magic."

"The 'mental stuff'," Jean said, feeling the shields cutting off most of the noise of Amanda's mind, "is fairly important in general. Control of your mind is pretty much always the first step to control of anything else."

Amanda gave another shrug. "Well, I'm workin' on it. Some days're easier than others, but you probably know that better 'n me." She didn't want to dwell on what all the stress and worry was doing to her concentration, especially since Pete's secret meant she was avoiding too much contact with Manuel in case he picked up something he shouldn't. Change of subject time. "How're you settlin' back in?" Go for the obvious question that would draw attention away from Amanda herself.

Jean could sense the desire for the change of subject, if not the reasons behind it, but was amenable to it. It was, after all, the most common question she heard these days. "Oh, well enough," she said. "I'm very glad to be back in the medlab and working again." Her measurements finished she added a few last notes to the file and closed it.

"An' wishin' for a quid every time you hear that question, probably." It was a relief to see the file closed. Files were not good things, in Amanda's experience. People wrote things down in them that later came back to bite you. Usually in court. "Yeah, I s'pose you would be. I've noticed that about you doctor types - you don't like hangin' back adn doin' nothin'. Have t' sit on Moira sometimes t' get her t' stop."

"Can't say as I would object to the money, no," Jean said, smiling. "But I'll happily take the work by preference. Moira and Hank have always been... reluctant to take a break, even at the best of times. It was easier, I think, when the school was smaller and I could handle all the students and staff myself - they were both free to do their own research then."

"So you were here back with McCoy an' Munroe an'... the rest?" Amanda avoided mentioning Scott by name. She'd have to have the sensitivity of a rock - or Jubilee on one of her bad days, she thought with a not-unkind grin - to not know that was a touchy subject. Especially when she'd been in the same position as Jean at one point. On impulse, she let the scene with Manuel after the confrontation with Rack come to the top of her mind. Not projecting exactly, just leaving it where it could be seen.

"Yes, I was," Jean said. "I was one of Charles' very first students." She tensed up as the memory of Manuel came to the front of Amanda's mind. She understood what Amanda was trying to say, but De la Rocha was still a touchy subject with Jean.

"Either you're a lot older than you look, or the X geezer grabbed you early," Amanda observed, dropping the image and firming up her shields again at the reaction. Talking of being insenstive... "Must be odd, havin' so many of us here now after there bein' only a few. Hard on the brain." She gave Jean a lopsided smile of apology.

"A bit of both," Jean said, relaxing slightly as Amanda's shields went up again. "I did come to the school fairly young - my parents asked Professor Xavier," the emphasis on his title was slight, "to help me when my powers first began to show. And yes, having so many students around now is very strange. And occasionally tiring, I admit." Tiring didn't even begin to cover it, really.

"Tirin's one way of puttin' it. Wait until we start one of our screamin' rows on the journals." Finishing her apple, Amanda slid off the exam table. "So, we've made sure me brain's stayin' put an' you've gotten the inside story on the healin'. I should go an' try an' get some study done - Nate's timin's bloody awful as usual, right before exams. It was good t' talk t' you." A mischievous grin crossed her face. "You ain't bad, for a zombie," she added with a wink to show she wasn't serious at all.

Jean smiled. "It's on account of the telepathy. I know far too much about what goes on inside a brain to ever want to eat one. Good luck with your finals, Amanda."



A little later, Nathan wakes up



The disorientation hadn't gone away. Nathan blinked up blearily at the ceiling, trying to remember. Westchester? Or New Mexico? Antiseptic smells, but it could be the hospital wing at the base, too. All he could see was the ceiling, so he wasn't sure.

And he couldn't move. Panic surfaced amid the haze for a moment, and a frustrated whimper slipped out before he could help it. Couldn't move, hurt to breathe...

It was Jean's turn on watch - convincing Moira to go to bed these days involved pointing out just how bad sedatives would have been for the baby, but it worked - and she had settled onto one of the chairs as she worked through the paperwork from their latest treatments when she heard the quiet whimper and felt the confusion which heralded waking up in a medlab. She quickly rose and headed towards Nathan's bed.

"Nathan?" Her voice settled easily into the calming bed-side tone she had learned all those years ago. "It's me, Jean. Don't worry, you're safe." A glance at his monitors showed his heartrate had increased but that he was doing well overall.

Swallowing was painful, as his throat felt like sandpaper. He blinked up blearily at the unfamiliar face leaning over him. Red hair... Moira? No. Nothing on the link. And Jean, she'd said. It took him a moment to remember.

"Hey," he finally croaked.

...Moira? No... A glass of water with a straw had been set by his bed for when he awoke, and Jean picked it up, holding it for him until he had drunk as she said, "Moira's resting. I've got the watch today. How are you feeling?"

"Hurts..." His voice was a little stronger, after the water, but not much. He could feel the drugs in his system, doing their best to dull the pain, but dulling was all they could manage. "Moira's... sleeping? 'S good..." He had seen how tired she looked, the last time he'd been awake. It had worried him.

"Yes, very good," Jean agreed as she set the glass down and moved to write down the readouts from the machine. "I can knock you out again with painkillers, if you like, although they won't do much except make you unconsious at this point." Honestly, given the shape he'd come back in, just being in pain was a good sign.

His pulse jumped at the thought, and the heart monitor beeped a little more insistently. "Don't want... to sleep again yet," he muttered fitfully, blinking to try and clear his vision. "Can't tell what's real and what's not..." His dreams were blurring into reality and he didn't like that.

"I understand," Jean said, voice level. "Do you think you could manage some juice?" The painkillers would probably keep him too dizzy for even soup for a while yet, but hydration was always a good thing and it would give him something to focus on - his dizziness and uncertainty were bleeding into the room.

Nathan tried to think about the question. "Could try," he finally murmured. He could hear her moving around in the room, sense her. "Keep losing track," he whispered, not really talking to her. "Close my eyes and they're here. Only I know they're dead..."

Jean moved to get some juice for him out of the medlab fridge, pulling the straw out of his water and letting him talk through his confusion and try to reorder his mind.

Medlab. The medlab was real. The dreams weren't. Nathan let his breath out on a sigh, wincing at the way his ribs screamed in protest. "But they are gone," he muttered wearily. "I know that. They are..." She was leaning back over him again, red hair gleaming in the light, and he stared up at her, unable to keep the pain and guilt out of his expression.

At least some balance was returning to his mind. "They are, yes," Jean said. "I'm sorry. From what I understand of the mission, they died to protect the children..." Her voice trailed off as something very uncomfortable in her own mind muttered, 'too'.

Nathan sensed something, a flash of - water? Walls of water, coming at him... no, not him. He frowned a little. "Hits too close to home," he murmured faintly. "Can sense that. Sorry..."

"No," Jean said, "I'm sorry. My shielding is still more a matter of hoping that any other psis in the area are too distracted to notice they're not there. Not terribly fair to you, I'm afraid." She slid one of the movable bed trays close enough and set the glass of juice on it so he could reach the straw if he wanted.

"It's okay. Understand..." He closed his eyes for a moment, reaching out hesitantly with his mind. #Okay to talk this way?# he sent, knowing the projection was a bit faint, but unable to do much about that. #Ribs hurt so much... talking aloud's an effort.#

#So long as you don't mind doing all the work,# she thought at him. #Can't seem to project - consiously, at any rate - any more than I can shield.# Which meant, at least, that she had no trouble picking up his thoughts, no matter how faint the projection.

#Think I can manage it for a while.# She had quite the mind, he thought, realizing that even in his hazy state. There were broken patterns there, oddly like what he remembered of the representation Charles had shown him of his own mind, moinths ago. #I'm sorry, Jean... I think the TK training's going to have to wait a while.#

...manage it... quite the mind... sorry... It took her a second to sort through what he was intentionally projecting and the surface thoughts she couldn't escape. #That's all right. Not exactly your fault you've ended up in traction, and as your doctor I would have to strenuously object to you pushing yourself just now.#

#Always happening.# Profound depression tinged the projected thought, and Nathan closed his eyes, his breath catching in his chest. No matter what he did, whatever his motivations, he seemed to keep winding up here. In the medlab, flat on his back. Although not being able to move was a new one.

The depression washed over her and Jean took a deep breath, pausing to sort through what she was feeling herself and what had come from him #I understand...# She did not mean to continue the thought, but with no shields it was rediculously easy for Nathan to hear it. #... but there are worse places to end up than flat on your back in the medlab.#

Oh, yes, Nathan thought, a bit deliriously. One body in a pile of the dead, or a shape in a bodybag... #So many dead,# he sent hazily, the few images he remembered from Youra mixing up with Leuven and Vermont and so many other places, even the hotel room in San Francisco with Aliya dead on the floor and Tyler on the bed, unmoving. #Can't keep track of them all. I should be able to keep track.#

She winced, wishing she had more control for his sake. "It's a emotional fail safe," she said outloud, falling back on the doctor voice. "Our minds do their best to erase the bad memories, hiding our traumas from us."

Her voice solid, steady. Like Moira's, almost. #I'm sorry,# he sent back, his mental voice fainter, but wild too, self-control slipping away. Tears trickled down his cheeks,  eyes closed or not, and another ragged breath caught in his chest. #Should be happy. All those kids. No more body bags that are too big for what they're holding...#

She reached over and carefully brushed away his tears, fingers light on his cheeks. #It always comes back to the children,# she thought at him. #We would, all of us, give anything for them. They are our hope, and they are our strength, and we protect them, at any cost.#

She understood. He knew that, sensed it, and while it wasn't solace, it was something, and he held onto it doggedly. #Just wish... we could have saved all of them,# he sent weakly, the exhaustion starting to win again. #The kids... the ones who grew up, too.#

Jean brushed his hair back but, feeling the exhaustion creeping up on him, moved her hand away - she was on duty and it would not do to let his the tireness leaking off him pull her down with it. #Yes, I know. # Intellectually they both knew that you couldn't save them all, that someone was always being lost through the cracks somewhere, but it was their emotional unwillingess to accept that which kept them going.

He surrendered to the exhaustion gladly, knowing that he was on the edge of the more violent emotional reaction that the drugs and pain had managed to hold off thus far. Sleep was preferable. Even if he dreamed again.

Jean felt Nathan slip into unconsiousness and moved the tray back away from the bed before grabbing the glass of juice to stick it back in the fridge. The lack of mental noise from the other medlab residents was a good sign, but she would check on them before coming back in here to continue the paperwork - all of which would keep her mind occupied in less depressing thoughts than the conversation with Nathan had offered.