Jean and Hank in the medlab
Apr. 7th, 2005 08:23 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAfter a nightmare Jean comes to find some company and distraction but things do not go as expected.
Hank had done everything that needed doing hours ago. Now he was engaging himself in the activity that filled the majority of every nightshift - keeping himself amused. Today, he was occupying himself with origami. It wasn't easy, with fingers as large as his, and he had to make the little paper constructions on a rather larger scale than was usual, but by tomorrow, Miles would have a surprise gift of a whole Noah's Ark - made of folded cardboard - full of brightly coloured paper animals. He'd been a little quiet, of late, and a surprise might cheer him a little.
Jean had stopped shaking soon after waking up from the nightmare. She knew the pills would knock her out if she used them, but more sleep was the last thing she wanted right now. Instead she headed down to the medlabs - Hank was on duty and if nothing else she could stay up with him. She tapped on the door as she walked in. "Heya," she called softly.
Hank looked up from the bright pink armadillo he was folding, and smiled. "Jean," he said softly, noting the weary look and fading signs of strain on her face. "Another bad dream? Want company, for a little while?" He moved the ark carefully off the chair beside him, making room for her.
"Yes, and yes," she said, "although here I was all prepared to pretend it was you who might be in need of company." She settled into the chair he had cleared, pulling her legs up so she could wrap her arms around them. "What on earth are you doing, anyway?"
"I'm making a present for Miles," he explained, smiling and handing her a lion folded from dark blue paper with a purple paisley pattern. "An origami Noah's Ark. With all the animals in abnormal colours. He's been quiet lately, and I think the last few crises have been hard on him. There's nothing like a totally unexpected present to make the world seem a little brighter."
"Poor kid," Jean said, examining the lion. "It's not easy for any of them, really. It's a nice idea, Hank, and you do good work." She handed back the little paper creation.
"Thank you." He grinned. "And it's not entirely niceness on my part - I'd made two elephants and a crane out of sheer boredome, and then thought of a really good reason to steal all the interesting paper out of the art room, and make lots more." He offered her a crane made from thin blue paper. "Want one? I wound up with three."
She took it with a little smile. "Thanks." She didn't have much to say, really, but sat and turned the crane over in her hands, looking at it but not really seeing it.
He reached over to touch her cheek, smiling a little. "You seem a little down, for someone who was - and I have this on the best authority - practically walking on air earlier today," he said softly. "Want to talk about it?"
"Just a nightmare, really." In her mind again she saw Betsy smirking at her, Scott standing behind the purple haired telepath with his arms around her waist. "Not that much to talk about." Hank would have known - everybody would have known - but did he not tell her because it wasn't his place or because he thought Betsy was better for Scott than she was?
"That's not your 'nothing to talk about' face," Hank said solemnly. "That's your 'I'm not sure I want to talk about it yet, but there's definitely something'. I've known you far too long for you to fool me, young lady. If you don't want to talk about it, that's all right, but I know there's something." He'd known her for so long, and gotten to know her so well, he knew every motion of that lovely, expressive face.
Jean shot Hank a wry little smile. "Oh sure, read my mind. Here I thought that was supposed to be my trick." But the smile faded away and she looked out into the lab, not really seeing it as her fingers turned the crane over and over. A soft sigh, and then, without looking at him, she asked, "Was Scott happy with Elisabeth?"
Hank finished the armadillo and gave her a long, thoughtful look. "Would you rather hear what you want to hear, or the truth?" he asked softly.
"Given I can't help but know if you're lying?" she asked. She was getting better at not focusing, but the knowledge lying in his mind was still almost painfully evident.
"Yes and no. They had... a lot of difficulties. But between-times... yes, they were happy." Hank reached out to take her hand, smoothing the back of it gently with his thumb. "I imagine it's not comfortable hearing, but... well. As you said, you'd know if I tried to tell you comforting lies." He sighed a little. "And I was happy for them... after you died, or seemed to die, I was afraid that Scott would try to cut himself off from love forever, to avoid being hurt again. I think he might have tried, for a while. I was glad to discover that he was trying to go on with his life."
Jean mastered the impulse to hide her head in her knees and just cry. "Am I a terrible person, Hank? I want him to be happy, I want him to not hurt any more, but I want him to be happy with me. I was dead. Moving on was the healthy thing to do. But... what if he's really moved on. What if he doesn't want me anymore? What if he wants her when she comes back." There was a definite trace of venom in Jean's voice when she mentioned Betsy.
"Jean... first of all, you're being silly, and come here." All curled up the way she was, it was easy to pick her up and sit her on his lap, wrapping large arms around her. A non-judgemental lap and hug when you were unhappy didn't only work for kids. "Secondly, you're not a terrible person. Nobody enjoys being replaced, even if it's for the most reasonable of reasons, like having been believed dead. And thirdly..." He sighed. "Thirdly, I just want all three of you to be happy," he said softly. "And I wish there were a way for that to happen, but I don't think there is." He hated knowing that at least one person he cared about was going to be hurt... and he suspected it was going to be Betsy. And while he did want Jean and Scott to be happy, he wished it didn't have to be at the cost of yet another blow to Betsy's meagre happiness.
Curled in his lap it was impossible not to hear Hank's thoughts and Jean was off of his lap and on the other side of the table in seconds. "That woman," she spat. "Fine, feel sorry for her. I don't care!" The images from her nightmare, the tone of their last conversation, the very idea that another woman had touched her Scott, all of it together meant that Jean was not exactly reasonable when it came to Elisabeth Braddock. "I hope she never comes back." Radiating anger and fear, Jean turned, storming towards the door.
"Jean..." He caught her arm before she made it to the door, turning her gently to face him. "You aren't being fair to her, although I can't entirely blame you for that. I want you to be happy, and I want Scott to be happy. You know that's true. I just wish that Betsy wouldn't be hurt by it. She's suffered so much already." Hoping she'd pick it up, he thought hard about Betsy as he'd seen her most, lately... coming down when he was on night shifts and just sitting near him, pale and silent, unable or unwilling to speak. And how, sometimes, she'd relaxed a little, slowly, as he projected calm and order to her as he had to Jean when her powers gave her trouble... and other times, had simply gone away after a little while, still tense and silent. "You know how much it grieves me to see someone suffering and be unable to help."
But Jean was rapidly losing her grip on rational thought. "So help her. Help her take Scott away from, help her take everything away from me." She shoved at Hank's chest, unaware that her TK pushed him away far harder than she could have on her own. "I'm dead. I'm not supposed to be here and she can steal my life it's not my life I don't get to have my life back ever!"
Hank staggered back, wincing. "Jean!" he said sharply. "That is unfair, and you know it. I would never try to take anything from you... and she certainly will not take 'everything' from you. Self-pity is not only useless and destructive, but in this case, entirely unwarranted." It wasn't working, she wasn't listening... and as dearly as he loved her, she was being unjust. It only took a moment of anger, and he pushed a different set of emotions at her... his own. The suffocating misery that his own sudden, catastrophic change had brought. His increasing loneliness as he came to realize that love might be forever beyond his grasp. Did she think he didn't know how it felt, for everything to change in an instant? To lose someone you loved because of it?
The crushing pain pressed down on her in a wave and the terror and fear and lack of control spiraled up, building on itself as her telekinesis snapped on, shoving out in all directions. Jean started to scream as the power built up, not registering her feet leaving the floor, the sound of crashing glass or the thud as Hank hit the far wall. In less than a minute it was over as her powers overloaded and Jean lost consciousness, falling to the ground.
"Oh, hell..." Hank staggered up, rubbing his head, and moving over to kneel beside her, gathering her up remorsefully in his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. "My very, very bad. I should never have done that to you. I wish I'd never done it to ME." The Box, again - the bed was made up and empty, for a start. And he'd stay with her until she woke up.
---
Jean started up in the bed, awake in an instant. It was quiet in her head, or almost. She turned and saw the source of the only remaining mental noise. "Hank. We have got to stop meeting like this. What was it this ti..." she trailed off as the memories made themselves known.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I should never have inflicted that on you." And he'd certainly had no cause to throw stones - he'd handled his own crisis far less well than she was handling hers. "And... I'm sorry I made you feel as if I was against you, before that. I'm not. I just..." He sighed, making a helpless little gesture. "I just want everyone to be happy. A futile hope, as life keeps taking pains to remind me, but yet I cling to it."
"Hank, no, don't..." Jean drew in a shaky breath. "You didn't... or, rather, you wouldn't have, normally. I understand, normally. I don't want..." Well, no, that wasn't true. She did want Betsy hurt, but she knew it was irrational, too. "I'm not exactly, um..." sane "... rational these days."
"Nobody is, all the time." He reached out to take her hand gently. "I love you. I wish I could make everything better for you, even though I know I can't. Honestly, I don't think Betsy is any real threat to you, now... but I'm fond of her, and I wish she didn't have to get hurt. I wish nobody did."
"I think," Jean said slowly, keeping her shoulders from tensing by force of will, "that maybe it would just be best if we don't talk about her. And I'm going to have to go get my daily dose of Earl Grey early." She tried to smile at Hank but it didn't come out very well.
"I'm sorry," he said again, hanging his head. "I won't bring it up again."
She sighed. "Hank, I'm broken. Not your fault."
"But I can't fix you," he said, giving her a rueful smile. "What's the point of being a doctor if I can't cure all ills, heal all wounds, and fix everything in a generally wondrous and godlike fashion?"
That earned an honest smile. "I may not have you on the PhD but I'll stand my MD by yours any day, and I can't fix me either. Which is why we always go to Charles in the end."
"Just because it's not possible is no reason why I shouldn't be able to do it," he said, returning the smile. "Even if Charles is older, wiser, more powerful, and better versed in the Art of Tea than I am."
"We are all his disciples when it comes to the Earl Grey. Accept it and move on." Sitting up Jean winced slightly - she seemed to have bruised herself this time when she passed out. Well, she'd get some aspirin later.
"One day my tea will be stronger than his tea," Hank muttered, and then he stood, dropping a gentle kiss on her temple. "I love you," he said gently. "Never forget that." Sure, he was no Scott, she wasn't going to walk on air if he said it... but he wanted her to know anyway.
"Thank you, Hank. It means a lot to me, even if I don't end up treading on clouds. And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"Me too." He hugged her gently. "Oh... here." He offered her the paper crane, miraculously undamaged by her outburst. "For you."
Jean accepted it, cradling it gently. "Oh, hell," she muttered. "Please tell me I didn't break anything really important." She had a terrible vision of the medlab destroyed.
"Mostly glassware and the leg of the desk. Also, some of the equipment is a bit bent and battered, but nothing that can't be fixed." He patted her shoulder comfortingly. "Nothing to worry about. Although I'm probably NEVER going to find all the paper - it'll be turning up in odd places for weeks, I should think."
She sighed in relief. "Thank God for small favors. And we have too much paperwork anyway. Let Clarice and the other medlab girls collect it. If they haven't yet realized that medical work is twenty-five percent helping people and seventy-five percent filling out forms they need to learn."
"Medical work, nothing... I meant all the paper I swiped from the art room to make my Noah's Ark." Hank grinned. "If you find a yellow and orange checked piece, let me know - I was planning to use it for the penguins."
Jean laughed. "Ah well, no, that you probably can't fob off on the kids. I promise I'll keep my eyes open."
"Thank you." Hank smiled. "And don't tell anyone. It's a surprise for him - although I suppose it'll be a surprise tomorrow, now. I'll finish it tonight."
"I won't, I promise. For now, though, I think the Earl Grey is calling me."
Hank had done everything that needed doing hours ago. Now he was engaging himself in the activity that filled the majority of every nightshift - keeping himself amused. Today, he was occupying himself with origami. It wasn't easy, with fingers as large as his, and he had to make the little paper constructions on a rather larger scale than was usual, but by tomorrow, Miles would have a surprise gift of a whole Noah's Ark - made of folded cardboard - full of brightly coloured paper animals. He'd been a little quiet, of late, and a surprise might cheer him a little.
Jean had stopped shaking soon after waking up from the nightmare. She knew the pills would knock her out if she used them, but more sleep was the last thing she wanted right now. Instead she headed down to the medlabs - Hank was on duty and if nothing else she could stay up with him. She tapped on the door as she walked in. "Heya," she called softly.
Hank looked up from the bright pink armadillo he was folding, and smiled. "Jean," he said softly, noting the weary look and fading signs of strain on her face. "Another bad dream? Want company, for a little while?" He moved the ark carefully off the chair beside him, making room for her.
"Yes, and yes," she said, "although here I was all prepared to pretend it was you who might be in need of company." She settled into the chair he had cleared, pulling her legs up so she could wrap her arms around them. "What on earth are you doing, anyway?"
"I'm making a present for Miles," he explained, smiling and handing her a lion folded from dark blue paper with a purple paisley pattern. "An origami Noah's Ark. With all the animals in abnormal colours. He's been quiet lately, and I think the last few crises have been hard on him. There's nothing like a totally unexpected present to make the world seem a little brighter."
"Poor kid," Jean said, examining the lion. "It's not easy for any of them, really. It's a nice idea, Hank, and you do good work." She handed back the little paper creation.
"Thank you." He grinned. "And it's not entirely niceness on my part - I'd made two elephants and a crane out of sheer boredome, and then thought of a really good reason to steal all the interesting paper out of the art room, and make lots more." He offered her a crane made from thin blue paper. "Want one? I wound up with three."
She took it with a little smile. "Thanks." She didn't have much to say, really, but sat and turned the crane over in her hands, looking at it but not really seeing it.
He reached over to touch her cheek, smiling a little. "You seem a little down, for someone who was - and I have this on the best authority - practically walking on air earlier today," he said softly. "Want to talk about it?"
"Just a nightmare, really." In her mind again she saw Betsy smirking at her, Scott standing behind the purple haired telepath with his arms around her waist. "Not that much to talk about." Hank would have known - everybody would have known - but did he not tell her because it wasn't his place or because he thought Betsy was better for Scott than she was?
"That's not your 'nothing to talk about' face," Hank said solemnly. "That's your 'I'm not sure I want to talk about it yet, but there's definitely something'. I've known you far too long for you to fool me, young lady. If you don't want to talk about it, that's all right, but I know there's something." He'd known her for so long, and gotten to know her so well, he knew every motion of that lovely, expressive face.
Jean shot Hank a wry little smile. "Oh sure, read my mind. Here I thought that was supposed to be my trick." But the smile faded away and she looked out into the lab, not really seeing it as her fingers turned the crane over and over. A soft sigh, and then, without looking at him, she asked, "Was Scott happy with Elisabeth?"
Hank finished the armadillo and gave her a long, thoughtful look. "Would you rather hear what you want to hear, or the truth?" he asked softly.
"Given I can't help but know if you're lying?" she asked. She was getting better at not focusing, but the knowledge lying in his mind was still almost painfully evident.
"Yes and no. They had... a lot of difficulties. But between-times... yes, they were happy." Hank reached out to take her hand, smoothing the back of it gently with his thumb. "I imagine it's not comfortable hearing, but... well. As you said, you'd know if I tried to tell you comforting lies." He sighed a little. "And I was happy for them... after you died, or seemed to die, I was afraid that Scott would try to cut himself off from love forever, to avoid being hurt again. I think he might have tried, for a while. I was glad to discover that he was trying to go on with his life."
Jean mastered the impulse to hide her head in her knees and just cry. "Am I a terrible person, Hank? I want him to be happy, I want him to not hurt any more, but I want him to be happy with me. I was dead. Moving on was the healthy thing to do. But... what if he's really moved on. What if he doesn't want me anymore? What if he wants her when she comes back." There was a definite trace of venom in Jean's voice when she mentioned Betsy.
"Jean... first of all, you're being silly, and come here." All curled up the way she was, it was easy to pick her up and sit her on his lap, wrapping large arms around her. A non-judgemental lap and hug when you were unhappy didn't only work for kids. "Secondly, you're not a terrible person. Nobody enjoys being replaced, even if it's for the most reasonable of reasons, like having been believed dead. And thirdly..." He sighed. "Thirdly, I just want all three of you to be happy," he said softly. "And I wish there were a way for that to happen, but I don't think there is." He hated knowing that at least one person he cared about was going to be hurt... and he suspected it was going to be Betsy. And while he did want Jean and Scott to be happy, he wished it didn't have to be at the cost of yet another blow to Betsy's meagre happiness.
Curled in his lap it was impossible not to hear Hank's thoughts and Jean was off of his lap and on the other side of the table in seconds. "That woman," she spat. "Fine, feel sorry for her. I don't care!" The images from her nightmare, the tone of their last conversation, the very idea that another woman had touched her Scott, all of it together meant that Jean was not exactly reasonable when it came to Elisabeth Braddock. "I hope she never comes back." Radiating anger and fear, Jean turned, storming towards the door.
"Jean..." He caught her arm before she made it to the door, turning her gently to face him. "You aren't being fair to her, although I can't entirely blame you for that. I want you to be happy, and I want Scott to be happy. You know that's true. I just wish that Betsy wouldn't be hurt by it. She's suffered so much already." Hoping she'd pick it up, he thought hard about Betsy as he'd seen her most, lately... coming down when he was on night shifts and just sitting near him, pale and silent, unable or unwilling to speak. And how, sometimes, she'd relaxed a little, slowly, as he projected calm and order to her as he had to Jean when her powers gave her trouble... and other times, had simply gone away after a little while, still tense and silent. "You know how much it grieves me to see someone suffering and be unable to help."
But Jean was rapidly losing her grip on rational thought. "So help her. Help her take Scott away from, help her take everything away from me." She shoved at Hank's chest, unaware that her TK pushed him away far harder than she could have on her own. "I'm dead. I'm not supposed to be here and she can steal my life it's not my life I don't get to have my life back ever!"
Hank staggered back, wincing. "Jean!" he said sharply. "That is unfair, and you know it. I would never try to take anything from you... and she certainly will not take 'everything' from you. Self-pity is not only useless and destructive, but in this case, entirely unwarranted." It wasn't working, she wasn't listening... and as dearly as he loved her, she was being unjust. It only took a moment of anger, and he pushed a different set of emotions at her... his own. The suffocating misery that his own sudden, catastrophic change had brought. His increasing loneliness as he came to realize that love might be forever beyond his grasp. Did she think he didn't know how it felt, for everything to change in an instant? To lose someone you loved because of it?
The crushing pain pressed down on her in a wave and the terror and fear and lack of control spiraled up, building on itself as her telekinesis snapped on, shoving out in all directions. Jean started to scream as the power built up, not registering her feet leaving the floor, the sound of crashing glass or the thud as Hank hit the far wall. In less than a minute it was over as her powers overloaded and Jean lost consciousness, falling to the ground.
"Oh, hell..." Hank staggered up, rubbing his head, and moving over to kneel beside her, gathering her up remorsefully in his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. "My very, very bad. I should never have done that to you. I wish I'd never done it to ME." The Box, again - the bed was made up and empty, for a start. And he'd stay with her until she woke up.
---
Jean started up in the bed, awake in an instant. It was quiet in her head, or almost. She turned and saw the source of the only remaining mental noise. "Hank. We have got to stop meeting like this. What was it this ti..." she trailed off as the memories made themselves known.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I should never have inflicted that on you." And he'd certainly had no cause to throw stones - he'd handled his own crisis far less well than she was handling hers. "And... I'm sorry I made you feel as if I was against you, before that. I'm not. I just..." He sighed, making a helpless little gesture. "I just want everyone to be happy. A futile hope, as life keeps taking pains to remind me, but yet I cling to it."
"Hank, no, don't..." Jean drew in a shaky breath. "You didn't... or, rather, you wouldn't have, normally. I understand, normally. I don't want..." Well, no, that wasn't true. She did want Betsy hurt, but she knew it was irrational, too. "I'm not exactly, um..." sane "... rational these days."
"Nobody is, all the time." He reached out to take her hand gently. "I love you. I wish I could make everything better for you, even though I know I can't. Honestly, I don't think Betsy is any real threat to you, now... but I'm fond of her, and I wish she didn't have to get hurt. I wish nobody did."
"I think," Jean said slowly, keeping her shoulders from tensing by force of will, "that maybe it would just be best if we don't talk about her. And I'm going to have to go get my daily dose of Earl Grey early." She tried to smile at Hank but it didn't come out very well.
"I'm sorry," he said again, hanging his head. "I won't bring it up again."
She sighed. "Hank, I'm broken. Not your fault."
"But I can't fix you," he said, giving her a rueful smile. "What's the point of being a doctor if I can't cure all ills, heal all wounds, and fix everything in a generally wondrous and godlike fashion?"
That earned an honest smile. "I may not have you on the PhD but I'll stand my MD by yours any day, and I can't fix me either. Which is why we always go to Charles in the end."
"Just because it's not possible is no reason why I shouldn't be able to do it," he said, returning the smile. "Even if Charles is older, wiser, more powerful, and better versed in the Art of Tea than I am."
"We are all his disciples when it comes to the Earl Grey. Accept it and move on." Sitting up Jean winced slightly - she seemed to have bruised herself this time when she passed out. Well, she'd get some aspirin later.
"One day my tea will be stronger than his tea," Hank muttered, and then he stood, dropping a gentle kiss on her temple. "I love you," he said gently. "Never forget that." Sure, he was no Scott, she wasn't going to walk on air if he said it... but he wanted her to know anyway.
"Thank you, Hank. It means a lot to me, even if I don't end up treading on clouds. And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"Me too." He hugged her gently. "Oh... here." He offered her the paper crane, miraculously undamaged by her outburst. "For you."
Jean accepted it, cradling it gently. "Oh, hell," she muttered. "Please tell me I didn't break anything really important." She had a terrible vision of the medlab destroyed.
"Mostly glassware and the leg of the desk. Also, some of the equipment is a bit bent and battered, but nothing that can't be fixed." He patted her shoulder comfortingly. "Nothing to worry about. Although I'm probably NEVER going to find all the paper - it'll be turning up in odd places for weeks, I should think."
She sighed in relief. "Thank God for small favors. And we have too much paperwork anyway. Let Clarice and the other medlab girls collect it. If they haven't yet realized that medical work is twenty-five percent helping people and seventy-five percent filling out forms they need to learn."
"Medical work, nothing... I meant all the paper I swiped from the art room to make my Noah's Ark." Hank grinned. "If you find a yellow and orange checked piece, let me know - I was planning to use it for the penguins."
Jean laughed. "Ah well, no, that you probably can't fob off on the kids. I promise I'll keep my eyes open."
"Thank you." Hank smiled. "And don't tell anyone. It's a surprise for him - although I suppose it'll be a surprise tomorrow, now. I'll finish it tonight."
"I won't, I promise. For now, though, I think the Earl Grey is calling me."
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Date: 2005-04-07 01:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-07 01:38 pm (UTC)Email for log? Have to sleep now, but it'd give me something to do at work tomarrow.
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Date: 2005-04-07 03:42 pm (UTC)