Jean and Manuel

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

the night Manny spends in the box



Manuel laughed as he raced through Medlab. He danced around the quite startled Jean, and winked at her saucily and blew her a kiss before locking himself into the Box and breaking down completely. Between ripping sobs, he capered and danced through the not-at-all-suited-for-it room, alternating between laughter and near-hysterical sobbing.

The pained and confused thoughts bleeding through his shields shocked her with their strength - she had grown used to his control on the few occasions she had seen the young man - and it took her a few seconds to realize what they had been focused on. Ah yes, of course he would have heard, and presumably not from Charles or he would not be in such a state. She glanced towards the computer and saw her email inbox was flashing at her and she opened the note from Amanda. Wonderful, a drunken, high powered empath. But he at least had the self control and self knowledge to go to the box on his own.

Jean went to get a glass of water for Manuel, giving him a chance to collect himself in the mental silence of the box if he should be so inclined before flipping on the intercom. "Manuel," she said softly, "would you like to talk?"

Manuel stopped himself dead and looked at the speaker for the intercom. Then he lurched forward to lean on the XMIT button. "What is there to talk about? Would you like to celebrate this most momentus occasion with me?" he asked, somewhat manically. "You've undoubtedly read my file, you should know what a _stupendous_ day today is!" Suddenly, he dropped his voice down to near-conspiratorial tones. "Would you be so kind as to bring me a cake and some punch? We can't have a party without cake and punch." he whispered to Jean.

He sounded remarkably unslurred for someone who might need a stomach pump later - perhaps Amanda had exagerated. She considered Manuel before answering, "I'll bring you fruit punch if you like, certainly, but it won't be spiked, and we're all out of cake, although I'm sure Hank's stash can be raided for cookies." Her tone was even and calm, although her mind was casting about for anyway to get through to the suffering young man, her own anger and distrust of him stiffled in order to help him, and because with him inside the box he couldn't hurt her.

Manuel pouted. "Well, that simply will _not_ do! Go forth and bring me what you can, then." he instructed. "Would you like me to sing? I have a fairly lovely singing voice, or so Ms Blaire tells me." he offered. "Yes, I think a party should have some music. What would you prefer to hear? I'm afraid that I cannot use my usual trick when I am in here and you are out there."

"The finest cookies in all the lands," she said, shrugging but not moving to get them. "I think I'd rather talk to you than have music, although I'm sure you sing very well."

"I do, you know. Sing well. It is one of my only redeeming features - but I don't need to tell you that. You already know." he said with a smirk. He danced a little bit in his seat to emphasize his point. "It must be uncomfortable for you, making small-talk with someone you despise so."

Jean's temper flashed, but with the walls of the box between them it was only visible in a slight tightening of her eyes. "I wouldn't be much of a doctor if I could only treat people I was emensly fond of," she said, settling onto a nearby stool. "So if your singing is one of your redeeming features, what are some of the others?" Distract him before he could start proding at her control again - he might not be able to tell if he'd struck a nerve without his powers, but she'd rather not have him verbally fishing for weak points, particularly since the box was already full.

"Oh, I am sorry. Was that a sore point with you? Well, I am in here and you are out there. I cannot possibly hurt you unless you permit it." he pointed out reasonably. "And you've read the file. I don't have any redeeming features. Well, I do have one, but you're really, well, looking pretty good right now, come to think of it. Come on in and I'll share my other redeeming feature." he leered. "Ah, but wait. I have been informed that I should give you more latitude, more support and consideration given your delicate condition." he said with only the faintest hints of a smile on his face.

Jean smiled mildly, raising an eyebrow. "Far too young for me, Manuel, and not my type. But yes, I have read you file, which is why I'm not asking you about that. I want to know what you think are your good points. Neither your singing voice nor your sexual prowess were featured therein..." Not strictly true, as his affair with Jubilee had featured as a note on both of their files and Amanda's as well after the fight. "And yet you would list them both as redeeming features. Well, what else?"

Manuel sighed deeply over the intercom. "You don't understand. My most redeeming feature is that I don't _have_ any redeeming features. I'm the destroyer, the betrayer, the Instigator of Chaos. Loki saw that in me, that we were kindred spirits. That's why he took me under his wing, taught me to use my power." he explained. "And you'll never know what you're missing. That's just too bad." he smirked, all of a sudden back to smiles and jeers again. "I think I will sing for you." he announced.

"If you like," she said, sighing inwardly as his cheerful facade came back. "But you know, you're awfully young to be giving up on yourself, Norse god or no."

Manuel grinned at Jean. "Hey you! Out there in the cold, getting lonely, getting old, can you feel me?" he sang to her. He then devolved into tuneless singing, carrying the tune along and rocking slightly from side to side.

She let him sing as she moved about the medlab, getting him the juice and stealing some cookies from Hank's stash before setting the tray on a table near the door to the box and coming back to the monitoring station. "Juice and cookies, as promised," she said, "but I won't intrude on your space. Come get them whenever you feel up to it." There wasn't a way to get them in there without the door opening, and that would have to be his choice, as much for her own benifit as his.

"You'll have to bring them in here." Manuel pointed out, quite rationally. "If I go out there, everyone from here to New York City will be slitting their wrists in betrayal and loss." he said flatly. "I don't dare go out there, not the way I am. I must sit here and grieve where I cannot hurt anyone else. Emotion, strong emotion, is a powerfully dangerous tool to someone like me. So, Doctor Grey, I hear told you may have a touch of the Power yourself, in addition to your other gifts. Do you feel the emotions? Taste the fury, feel the bitter trail of sadness and loss?" he asked tiredly.

Jean didn't move for a few seconds, knowing she would have to prepare herself before entering the Box. "In a sense, yes," she answered him. "Thoughts come to me with... I guess it's a flavor of the emotions that are attached to them and, with my shields down, it is easier for me to 'hear' proto-thoughts as well - things which are closer to emotions and insticts. People very rarely have 'pure' thoughts, in my experience. There is always emotion or memory or instinct attached at some level which is woven into the thought itself."

Manuel grinned. "A real shame that things don't work the other way, now, isn't it? Or, perhaps, safer. For everyone. Emotion is the enemy of rational thought. Everyone knows that, but nobody really wants to think it through." he pointed out rationally. "If I weren't celebrating the end of history, I would have to give that some serious thought."

"Rational thought is also frequently the enemy of rational thought," Jean said. "Even at our most intellectual there is a trace of the irrational, and rationalization has precedence over logic every time." She sighed. "But why celebrate the end of history? The tradition would claim to mourn the end and then celebrate the beginning of the new histories."

Manuel smirked. "Ask me that again in two hundred years, when the new line is strong and vigorous. One generation, that's a fluke. Anyone can start the next generation - the real game is building it up over _time_." he said. "But what would you know about families and dynasties? You're an American." he sneered.

Jean laughed at that. "I am, indeed, and happy to admit it. We may not know from dynasties but family remains important whether you can count it back in for centuries or for seconds. Just ask any new mother."

Manuel nodded so hard he almost sprained his neck. "And that's why I'm here now." he said softly. "Because nobody respects my family. My loss. They hear that Alphonso Rodrigo Domingo de la Rocha has been bested in the game, never to play again, and they rejoice. He was assassinated, Doctor Grey, and no one _CARES_!" he screamed. "Do you have _idea_ what that feels like to me? To someone who lives every day awash in a sea of emotion, to one who feels passionately? It is the most intimate betrayal I could face."

Jean looked at him seriously, her amusement gone in the face of his pain. "Manuel," she said, "they may not mourn for him, may not regret his passing, but none of us would suggest that you did not have the right to feel for him, to miss and mourn your loss, and we do feel for that."

Manuel spit at Jean - which didn't come anywhere near striking her, thanks to the door and wall between the two of them. "I don't believe you." he said firmly. "You say honeyed words to get me to calm down and behave, but you do not _believe_. You would not say them if you were in here, or if I was out there." he said, hands clenched into fists.

"Your logic is flawed, Manuel," she told him, not reacting to the gesture at all. "If your powers could reach me I would feel your pain even more strongly. But the fact remains that I do feel for you, and your loss. I never knew your father in any capacity, only through the effects he had on thoes here, but I would never suggest that your pain had no basis or that you should not mourn for what you have lost." She gestured towards the tray on the counter, although her hand shook slightly as she did so. "Would you like your cookies and your punch and your proof?"

Manuel grinned ferally. "The thought terrifies you." he said, keenly observing the handshake. "I can practically feel it from here. Why? What have I _ever_ done to you to deserve your fear?"

"I would say 'terrifies' would be an exageration, but yes, my inability to maintain any sort of mental balance or protections in the face of other psis causes me much difficulty. The fact that you took advantage of my inability to control when we first met also did not indear you to me." Her voice was level as she spoke - after all, the door to the box was still closed.

Manuel blinked. "The Hell I did! All that I did was look at your emotional state. Anything else that you think I did is a vile slander, and I resent it!" he said crossly. "It's not like it was difficult to determine the source of your turmoil, you know." he said pleasantly, in another rapid flip. "It was written all over your face, and I don't need empathy to see it."

"So scanning my emotional state when I have no shields, no protections, when my mind is as open as a bleeding wound is not taking advantage?" Jean's tone became sharp as her temper began to take control again. "The fact that you felt you knew the 'source of my turmoil' gave you the right to throw my emotions and my issues in my face, despite my being a staff member at this school, despite only having met me minutes before? Fine, resent my 'slander', as you will have it. I resent the liberty you took with me."

"That is entirely correct. I see _everything_, Doctor Grey. I cannot not look." he said calmly. "If I had taken _advantage_ of you, as you suggest that I did, then you wouldn't have that open emotional wound any more." he snapped. "But, alas, _ethics_ constrains me."

"You can not not look, fine, currently, neither can I. I can not help but know the surface thoughts of every person within the field of my powers unless they are actively shielding, but there is a difference between that and actively seeking out that knowledge, invading the sanctity of their minds and hearts. What you did was a violation of psionic ethics. Acting on what you thought was best for me would have been an atrocity. You know nothing about my condition and meddling in it would have been extremely dangerous." As she lectured the young man she stood and moved closer to the view screen, crossing her arms. "The wound I spoke of is not an emotional one - my emotional problems will heal in time - it is a psionic one and it is likely to take very careful training and treatment from masters in the field to fix it. And it is none of your concern."

Manuel smiled thinly. "And, of course, you've been back for such a short time and you're instantly an expert in empathic projection techniques? I don't give you grief for scanning my mind, kindly do me the same courtesy in return." he said, trying not to gnash his teeth. But displacement was a fine and healthy thing, and if fighting with Jean made him feel better about his father being assassinated, he was all for it. "You don't know what I can do. You haven't the slightest idea. I could have helped you find a center to deal with your other issues from a position of strength." he said confidently.

Jean sighed, feeling like she was lecturing a particularly slow child, but at least her temper had died away. "Manuel, that is not your job. You are a student here to learn, among other things, when it is appropriate to use your powers and when it is not. I have no doubt that you could have made me feel calm at that time but, had you done so, it is entirely likely you would have ended up slammed into a wall or worse. My telekinesis has become entirely instinctive and I have no way to stop it once it turns on. Had you interfered there is no knowing what would have happened - interefeering with people's minds is much more complicated that you seem to think."

"Even when the answer is never?" Manuel spit back. "Helping people is the _only thing I can do_ with my power. They're useless for everything else. Can't pick up my room empathically, as a silly example." he sighed. "So I suppose I can add you to the forcible-powers-lobotomy camp. Or maybe you can tell me - what should I be using my power for? What good is it?"

"Even when the answer is never, yes, although I don't believe it is." Jean eyed Mannuel. "For someone who can sense the infinite shades of feeling and begin to comprehend the overwhelming complexity of how people think and feel, you seem remarkably determined to only ever treat people as though they were universally of one opinion or another. Have you no shades of grey? Any suggestion that you should learn to control your powers, learn when they should be applied and whn they should not automatically sets me in the 'powers-labotomy-camp'?"

"Not think, just feel. I'm no telepath, I can't tell what you are thinking. All I get is how you feel, and on a good thread day, what you're feeling it about. And if I have learned _anything_ here, it is that empathic reception alone, let alone projection, is enough to get you in the disliked-on-sight list. Projection bumps you to the actively-hated-on-sight list."

Jean noticed that he had quite neatly sidestepped the question but was willing to let it go. "All of the psionic gifts with the possible exception of telekinesis make people uncomfortable, even when they are used with the utmost care and concern for everyone's well being but your own. If you don't take that care, or can't, it gets worse."

Manuel sighed. "It must be so nice, to be a telepath and telekinetic. You have people with the same power as you, people who can understand you, know what you deal with on a daily basis. And, of course, you were Charles's prized student, were you not? I've heard talk to that effect. So do not lecture me on my power, Doctor Grey. You have _no idea_ what i can do, or what it is to be me. You cannot even begin to conceive of it. Your arrogance is suffocating." he said simply. "And if you regard a simple scan as an attack against your delicate sensitivities, then I suggest that you learn what a real attack is. No wonder you died." he said with disgust. "Probably thought you'd break a nail or something."

Jean's eyes narrowed, darkening dangerously, but she had calmed enough to keep some control. "Manuel, you are a rude, petualant child with no real understanding of what you're talking about and a love of hearing your own voice because it is the only one which will support your insufferable opinions. I have work to do, but will be here all night. If you need anything, just call." She left the intercom open so she would know if there was anything her patient wanted, but as far as Jean was concerned the conversation was over.

Manuel danced a little bit in his chair. "Oh, but you have to bring me my juice and cookies? What kind of a doctor are you, anyway? Podiatry?" he taunted. "My _father_ was assassinated today, and my linkmate is a fucking coward who can only think to run away when her worldview is challenged. And you want to come give me more shit? That's just brilliant, Doctor Grey. Absolutely brilliant. What will you do for your next trick, pull out Nathan's feeding tube just because it gurgles at you?"

"As your doctor it's my job to tell you that cookies are bad for you," she said, turning away and rummaging in a drawer until her fingers closed on one of the inhibitor bracelets. Jean was aware that it would be the height of stupidity for her to walk into the box with him just now unprotected - even if he had no intention of hurting her the pain he was feeling would almost certainly be overwhelming and she would be unable to keep from reacting instinctively and possibly hurting her patient. She snapped it onto her wrist, upping the power leve to it's highest and all the background noise in her mind died away, then turned back to collect the tray she'd prepared for him, adding the glass of water to it.

"You didn't answer my question." he said suspiciously. "I'll bet you're a podiatrist." he said with a grin. He then danced backwards, displaying an uncommon amount of grace, and waited for her to open the door to the Box. "Or maybe you're a genetics researcher, and you've got some thorazine with my name on it?" he said, then huddled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest.

Jean stopped, hand on the doornob, blinking at that. From his file she knew that that had to be a very touchy subject. "General practioner, actually," she said. "The door is only going to be open for a second," she continued. "On three. One, two..."

Manuel flinched away from the door even further. He hadn't had a flashback this strong in months, it was a sign of his mental distress that the ghosts of the past had reached forth their hand to claw at him like this. ~nodrugsnodrugsnodrugsnodrugs~ he chanted over and over to himself in Castillian.

"Three." The door was opened and closed in the promised second as Jean slipped inside. She set the tray down on a flat surface near the door, making no move to approach the boy who was obviously in distress.

Manuel had to fight hard to keep from either shutting down completely or leaping wildly for the door - and damned Doctor Grey for being in the way! She was slight, he was in top shape. He could take her, but he could not. "So the great Doctor Grey deigns to enter into the same room with the empath. You should talk to Lorna, the two of you could compare hates."

Have done, actually. "This may come as a shock, Manuel, but I don't hate you."

Manuel smiled thinly, looking up at Jean from between his knees. "You have obviously read my file. Spoiled child, I think you said? I still think that lobotomy would be a good idea. Take away the power, maybe I can develop as a person."

"Petulant, actually, a minor distinction. All children are petulant at times, and it is much easier to grow out of." Jean seriously considered Manuel. "There are other ways of 'removing' your powers that are less permanent." Her hand was raised, the bracelet blinking on her wrist. "Part of growing up is knowing when you need the help and when you can handle things on your own, and then acting on that knowledge. Coming down here, on your own and with no one to tell you you must, is a perfect example."

"I was never a child." he said after a moment. "It was never permitted." And on that comment, he turned away from Jean, to fight for control and to keep himself hidden from her. "It still isn't."

Which, really, explained quite a lot about his reactions to the world. "I do, actually, have other work to do tonight," she told him, "but just let me know if there's anything I can do or there's anything you need." The boy inspired such a confusing mix of emotions, really - sympathy, frustration, anger, compassion...

Manuel nodded. "Then go." he said quietly. "I want to weep in peace."

"Of course." She reached behind her. "Leaving... now." Again, the door was open for only an instant and when it was shut behind her Jean leaned against it and sighed. Poor kid. Poor, infuriating kid.

But she really did have work. She left the intercom open so she would hear if he needed her, then went to go check on Nathan.