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om_mainJean-Paul gets his first visitors.
Jean-Paul's eyelids were heavy, but he didn't think he could sleep just yet. The pain that had twisted through his nerves and turned his guts to ice water was finally in retreat, thanks to Moira's drugs. Laura and River were safe. Simon was safe...
But if he tried to sleep, he knew he would see those pitiless green eyes again. As much as he'd been sure there were people in his life who had wanted to kill him, the first one who'd actually tried had been someone he'd trusted, in his own way. Even liked.
Better to stay awake.
The moment Dr. MacTaggert had given her the go-ahead, Jeanne-Marie raced to the medlab. She hadn't slept, of course, since that middle of the night panic and the doctor's half-explanations, and it showed in her pale face, shadowed eyes, and wild hair. But none of that mattered; Jean-Paul was hurt, and poor Josh couldn't fix him just then, and finally, she could see him.
When Dr. MacTaggert nodded her in, Jeanne-Marie slipped into the room almost silently, but for the click of the door. It wasn't that she hadn't believed, but to see him there was a relief... and also painful. Because, well, look at him. She moved swiftly to the bedside before she said a word.
Jean-Paul's eyes went wide at the sudden movement, but relaxed as he realized that this dark-haired girl was his sister.
"Hey," he murmured, slipping into French. English was too much effort. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
His physical reaction was obvious, and it frightened her. "And I didn't mean to scare you," she said, also in French. It was easier, and she was grateful.
She reached for his hand but paused before she got there, trying to get her emotions under control first. Instead, her vision blurred slightly, eyes acquiring a decided sheen before she blinked it away. "My god, Jean-Paul, what happened? I felt it--in the middle of the night."
He sucked in a surprised breath. Of course she'd felt it...god, he'd never even considered...
"I'm sorry," he said again, an edge of pain to the apology. "I didn't think that you might have felt it all..." But he couldn't say he wouldn't have done it anyway, and that hurt more.
"It was Laura," he said finally. "They did something to her. She attacked us. I held her off."
Jeanne-Marie winced and leaned against the edge of the bed, her fingers turning white with the pressure of holding her up. Laura--of all people, the girl who sat keeping watch on them all. It was unthinkable. "Oh my god. How bad was it?" He was pale enough that she had to ask. "And where, exactly?"
"Right side. Both times." He nodded vaguely downward. "The first time she just got some skin...they went in deeper the second time." He didn't add that if he'd been slower, he'd probably have been eviscerated. It wasn't a realization he particularly wanted to linger over. "But Josh was right there...he made sure everything deeper than muscle was intact before we came back."
"Oh, thank God. But he fixed you a little and still...?" Her brow furrowed deeper. Too many questions now: how bad had it been, and was Josh okay, and what happened to Laura? She reached for his hand again, this time fairly certain her emotions, if not her questions, were not out of control.
"Still...?" His expression was definitely fuzzy; the painkillers were doing their job.
"You are still so injured," she clarified. "Is Josh all right? Dr. MacTaggert didn't say anyone else had been hurt."
"Nn. No, no one else is badly...hurt." Jean-Paul's brow furrowed for a moment. "Josh had to keep Laura unconscious after we got clear. It wore him out. Simon checked in on me, but River..." He trailed off. "Did they tell you?"
Unable to speak, afraid to ask, Jeanne-Marie simply shook her head. Surely, she would've heard if--no, she couldn't even think it. River must be okay. She had to be okay.
"The place where we found them, it was a lab." Jean-Paul found her hand and held on tightly with a grip slightly cooler than it should have been. God, what if Jeanne-Marie had gone with River and Laura that night? But he pushed the thought away. She hadn't. She, at least, was safe. "They were both being experimented on somehow."
"Like Laura was before..." Jeanne-Marie sat on the edge of the bed now, horrified. Her hand trailed absently to her brother's arm just letting her fingers rest against it, grateful for the sheer fact of him being so solid right then.
"Is River--is she like Laura, now?" She wasn't sure what she meant by that, but just different, mostly. Laura had always behaved like someone who had been isolated, who thought differently, and of course she did. But, "Surely, not in a month..."
But even as she said it, she knew it was long enough. She knew what being tortured could do to a person, and her own had been slow, agonizing, painful. But not purposeful.
"I don't think so. She didn't attack us, but...she is not the same either. I do not know, Simon could see..." He broke off with a soft curse. "I can't think straight right now. They did something to her brain."
Jeanne-Marie's lower lip quivered for just a moment and the room blurred. But she blinked the feeling away and patted his arm--gently. And didn't burst into tears.
"We will take care of her. Of each other," she said, as steadily as possible. There were a million things she needed to say, to ask, to know, to tell. But not that very moment. "And I will stop asking you questions, for now. You should rest."
"I really do not want to," he confessed in a whisper. "But you look like you should."
"I am fine, now that you are here." But her throat was tight; she knew why he didn't want to rest. She'd felt that fear many times, herself--she wanted to ask what he would see when he closed his eyes, but didn't want to make him say it out loud. Not so soon. It still had too much power, so soon after.
She smoothed his hair away from his forehead. "I will stay with you, if you sleep."
"Not yet," he murmured. "It...I can't yet. But stay with me for a while?"
"I would rather." What she didn't say was that she would be there all day and night. Jeanne-Marie didn't much care for the idea of letting Jean-Paul out of her sight, just then. Not one bit.
Jean-Paul sighed, but kept his grip on her hand. "It seems like I leave you to look after me too often these days. I do not quite feel I am holding up my end of things."
"That is not true. I am always worried I lean too much on you. It feels good, to be even a little bit helpful." She brushed at his hair again and half-smiled. "Though of course I wish it was for less reason."
"You don't." The objection was mumbled, with hardly any force behind it. "When was the last time you asked me for anything?"
"Mmm." She murmured the rest, too, still fingering his hair a little. "You just give them before I can ask, lately. It is even better, no?"
"You don't need to be afraid, OK? I get mad, but you're not...I wouldn't get rid of you. You're my sister."
"I will tell you a secret, Jean-Paul." She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then whispered, "I am always a little bit afraid."
Then she stood, this time smiling a little more genuinely. "But you couldn't get rid of me if you tried, anyhow."
There was the faintest flash of light from their joined hands as Jean-Paul said, "Me too." But whether it was agreement or confession was difficult to tell, given his current lack of nuance.
---------
Jeanne-Marie didn't have much interest in taking a break, but Lydia managed to convince her to at least go get something to eat. Lydia caught her in the hall and sent her scampering away with a promise to take up her post at her brother's side.
Lydia didn't know what to expect, really. Josh had apparently kept Jean-Paul from going into shock--and presumably dying--there and then, but Lydia wasn't prepared to think about it, not wholly, yet. She'd been on the receiving end of a vicious attack once, yes. But not by someone she counted an ally. Possibly even a friend. She would never be ready to think about that, but she'd have to. God knew he must be.
She entered the room quietly and said, "Well, Jean-Paul. I go spend one night in the city, and you get yourself stabbed.
Jean-Paul looked like his own ghost lying there on the infirmary bed. He'd never had much of a tan, but now his skin seemed to have less color to it than a leg of pork in a butcher case. His eyes were dark and sunken, and the scent of blood clung to him, even in this sterile environment.
"Well, you know," he managed, his voice a dull whisper, "I couldn't let Maximoff come out of this looking better than me."
"No, anyone but that slowpoke." Lydia smiled as she came nearer, but it was weak and she knew it. Her usual composure in bad circumstances did not extend to moments when people she loved looked... like this. What the hell had he looked like before Josh had made sure he wasn't going to go into shock?
"Do not worry, I showed him who's boss." His smile was bleary and lop-sided. He was glad for the distraction. He wasn't ready to sleep yet, but his body didn't believe him. "What's the word out there?"
"Relief occasionally seasoned by mild panic." She came to lean against the bed with one him, looking down on him and schooling her face carefully into its usual expression. Sick, so sick to her stomach, with fear, with affection. "Not sure where Pietro is, but it's not hard to guess. Josh is being guarded by Kevin, Simon is with River, Tessa and Xavier are working over the stray you brought home, apparently, but don't quote me on that. You don't want to know what I had to do for that information." She smiled weakly, wryly.
"Poor you, forced to talk to the peasantry. But at least we all made it back. So nothing has to be too awkward, non?"
"Small mercies." She found his fingers, which didn't seem to be busted up like the rest of him so obviously was, with her own and clasped them lightly. "Word is that you were fairly heroic."
"The people around here have low standards." His hand was cool in hers. "I get full marks for bravery, but I think the execution kind of sucked."
"I know this is hard for you, Jean-Paul, but even you can't be perfect the first time." Lydia sounded snarky, but her smile and expression were soft, almost so much as to be entirely out of place on her. "Being a hero takes practice, too."
"Lies and slander. Expect a call from my lawyer as soon as I can sit up without the room spinning." His eyes closed briefly; when they opened, they were focused on the IV drips overhead. "It was a very close thing," he admitted finally, perhaps to her, perhaps to himself.
Now, her voice matched her expression. "I wondered. You look like shit--though that's relative. You look like shit for you. Can you tell me what happened, or should we save it?"
In response, Jean-Paul managed a twitch that might have been an attempt at a one-shouldered shrug.
"We had to get in and out quickly, and the guards had not been much trouble, so we split into two teams. It was me and Josh and Tessa. We went into one of the labs, Tessa did her things with the computers, but then we got hit with...some kind of pheromone junk. They set Laura on us after that...someone had to keep her busy while the others got washed off. So..." A more definite shrug this time. "I volunteered." That was the polite way to put it, anyway.
And no one else could've, was what he wasn't saying, but Lydia knew it all the same. It was horrifying on multiple levels: Jean-Paul being near-eviscerated by a classmate with intent to kill--no wonder he would rather not sleep. Laura being taken over by pheromones. She seemed like an odd, catlike creature sometimes, but squad work had taught Lydia that Talon was also a very deliberate, careful, and even protective girl.
Lydia knew what it was to be controlled. But not... for this.
"That is heroic." And scary and sad and horrific, but she didn't need to tell him. She leaned over and kissed his hair, since his head seemed to be mostly intact, anyhow. "Since it would've been awkward, if you hadn't." And by awkward, of course, they both meant 'tragic'.
"It's bad form to come back with fewer kids than you left with, non?" He was focused on her when she straightened up. "I will be all right. They will probably keep me in therapy, but I will be all right."
"Therapy sounds like a good idea," said the girl who hated it, for herself. But god, for this... "And I know you'll be all right." She squeezed his hand. She'd be here with him.
Jean-Paul's eyelids were heavy, but he didn't think he could sleep just yet. The pain that had twisted through his nerves and turned his guts to ice water was finally in retreat, thanks to Moira's drugs. Laura and River were safe. Simon was safe...
But if he tried to sleep, he knew he would see those pitiless green eyes again. As much as he'd been sure there were people in his life who had wanted to kill him, the first one who'd actually tried had been someone he'd trusted, in his own way. Even liked.
Better to stay awake.
The moment Dr. MacTaggert had given her the go-ahead, Jeanne-Marie raced to the medlab. She hadn't slept, of course, since that middle of the night panic and the doctor's half-explanations, and it showed in her pale face, shadowed eyes, and wild hair. But none of that mattered; Jean-Paul was hurt, and poor Josh couldn't fix him just then, and finally, she could see him.
When Dr. MacTaggert nodded her in, Jeanne-Marie slipped into the room almost silently, but for the click of the door. It wasn't that she hadn't believed, but to see him there was a relief... and also painful. Because, well, look at him. She moved swiftly to the bedside before she said a word.
Jean-Paul's eyes went wide at the sudden movement, but relaxed as he realized that this dark-haired girl was his sister.
"Hey," he murmured, slipping into French. English was too much effort. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
His physical reaction was obvious, and it frightened her. "And I didn't mean to scare you," she said, also in French. It was easier, and she was grateful.
She reached for his hand but paused before she got there, trying to get her emotions under control first. Instead, her vision blurred slightly, eyes acquiring a decided sheen before she blinked it away. "My god, Jean-Paul, what happened? I felt it--in the middle of the night."
He sucked in a surprised breath. Of course she'd felt it...god, he'd never even considered...
"I'm sorry," he said again, an edge of pain to the apology. "I didn't think that you might have felt it all..." But he couldn't say he wouldn't have done it anyway, and that hurt more.
"It was Laura," he said finally. "They did something to her. She attacked us. I held her off."
Jeanne-Marie winced and leaned against the edge of the bed, her fingers turning white with the pressure of holding her up. Laura--of all people, the girl who sat keeping watch on them all. It was unthinkable. "Oh my god. How bad was it?" He was pale enough that she had to ask. "And where, exactly?"
"Right side. Both times." He nodded vaguely downward. "The first time she just got some skin...they went in deeper the second time." He didn't add that if he'd been slower, he'd probably have been eviscerated. It wasn't a realization he particularly wanted to linger over. "But Josh was right there...he made sure everything deeper than muscle was intact before we came back."
"Oh, thank God. But he fixed you a little and still...?" Her brow furrowed deeper. Too many questions now: how bad had it been, and was Josh okay, and what happened to Laura? She reached for his hand again, this time fairly certain her emotions, if not her questions, were not out of control.
"Still...?" His expression was definitely fuzzy; the painkillers were doing their job.
"You are still so injured," she clarified. "Is Josh all right? Dr. MacTaggert didn't say anyone else had been hurt."
"Nn. No, no one else is badly...hurt." Jean-Paul's brow furrowed for a moment. "Josh had to keep Laura unconscious after we got clear. It wore him out. Simon checked in on me, but River..." He trailed off. "Did they tell you?"
Unable to speak, afraid to ask, Jeanne-Marie simply shook her head. Surely, she would've heard if--no, she couldn't even think it. River must be okay. She had to be okay.
"The place where we found them, it was a lab." Jean-Paul found her hand and held on tightly with a grip slightly cooler than it should have been. God, what if Jeanne-Marie had gone with River and Laura that night? But he pushed the thought away. She hadn't. She, at least, was safe. "They were both being experimented on somehow."
"Like Laura was before..." Jeanne-Marie sat on the edge of the bed now, horrified. Her hand trailed absently to her brother's arm just letting her fingers rest against it, grateful for the sheer fact of him being so solid right then.
"Is River--is she like Laura, now?" She wasn't sure what she meant by that, but just different, mostly. Laura had always behaved like someone who had been isolated, who thought differently, and of course she did. But, "Surely, not in a month..."
But even as she said it, she knew it was long enough. She knew what being tortured could do to a person, and her own had been slow, agonizing, painful. But not purposeful.
"I don't think so. She didn't attack us, but...she is not the same either. I do not know, Simon could see..." He broke off with a soft curse. "I can't think straight right now. They did something to her brain."
Jeanne-Marie's lower lip quivered for just a moment and the room blurred. But she blinked the feeling away and patted his arm--gently. And didn't burst into tears.
"We will take care of her. Of each other," she said, as steadily as possible. There were a million things she needed to say, to ask, to know, to tell. But not that very moment. "And I will stop asking you questions, for now. You should rest."
"I really do not want to," he confessed in a whisper. "But you look like you should."
"I am fine, now that you are here." But her throat was tight; she knew why he didn't want to rest. She'd felt that fear many times, herself--she wanted to ask what he would see when he closed his eyes, but didn't want to make him say it out loud. Not so soon. It still had too much power, so soon after.
She smoothed his hair away from his forehead. "I will stay with you, if you sleep."
"Not yet," he murmured. "It...I can't yet. But stay with me for a while?"
"I would rather." What she didn't say was that she would be there all day and night. Jeanne-Marie didn't much care for the idea of letting Jean-Paul out of her sight, just then. Not one bit.
Jean-Paul sighed, but kept his grip on her hand. "It seems like I leave you to look after me too often these days. I do not quite feel I am holding up my end of things."
"That is not true. I am always worried I lean too much on you. It feels good, to be even a little bit helpful." She brushed at his hair again and half-smiled. "Though of course I wish it was for less reason."
"You don't." The objection was mumbled, with hardly any force behind it. "When was the last time you asked me for anything?"
"Mmm." She murmured the rest, too, still fingering his hair a little. "You just give them before I can ask, lately. It is even better, no?"
"You don't need to be afraid, OK? I get mad, but you're not...I wouldn't get rid of you. You're my sister."
"I will tell you a secret, Jean-Paul." She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then whispered, "I am always a little bit afraid."
Then she stood, this time smiling a little more genuinely. "But you couldn't get rid of me if you tried, anyhow."
There was the faintest flash of light from their joined hands as Jean-Paul said, "Me too." But whether it was agreement or confession was difficult to tell, given his current lack of nuance.
Jeanne-Marie didn't have much interest in taking a break, but Lydia managed to convince her to at least go get something to eat. Lydia caught her in the hall and sent her scampering away with a promise to take up her post at her brother's side.
Lydia didn't know what to expect, really. Josh had apparently kept Jean-Paul from going into shock--and presumably dying--there and then, but Lydia wasn't prepared to think about it, not wholly, yet. She'd been on the receiving end of a vicious attack once, yes. But not by someone she counted an ally. Possibly even a friend. She would never be ready to think about that, but she'd have to. God knew he must be.
She entered the room quietly and said, "Well, Jean-Paul. I go spend one night in the city, and you get yourself stabbed.
Jean-Paul looked like his own ghost lying there on the infirmary bed. He'd never had much of a tan, but now his skin seemed to have less color to it than a leg of pork in a butcher case. His eyes were dark and sunken, and the scent of blood clung to him, even in this sterile environment.
"Well, you know," he managed, his voice a dull whisper, "I couldn't let Maximoff come out of this looking better than me."
"No, anyone but that slowpoke." Lydia smiled as she came nearer, but it was weak and she knew it. Her usual composure in bad circumstances did not extend to moments when people she loved looked... like this. What the hell had he looked like before Josh had made sure he wasn't going to go into shock?
"Do not worry, I showed him who's boss." His smile was bleary and lop-sided. He was glad for the distraction. He wasn't ready to sleep yet, but his body didn't believe him. "What's the word out there?"
"Relief occasionally seasoned by mild panic." She came to lean against the bed with one him, looking down on him and schooling her face carefully into its usual expression. Sick, so sick to her stomach, with fear, with affection. "Not sure where Pietro is, but it's not hard to guess. Josh is being guarded by Kevin, Simon is with River, Tessa and Xavier are working over the stray you brought home, apparently, but don't quote me on that. You don't want to know what I had to do for that information." She smiled weakly, wryly.
"Poor you, forced to talk to the peasantry. But at least we all made it back. So nothing has to be too awkward, non?"
"Small mercies." She found his fingers, which didn't seem to be busted up like the rest of him so obviously was, with her own and clasped them lightly. "Word is that you were fairly heroic."
"The people around here have low standards." His hand was cool in hers. "I get full marks for bravery, but I think the execution kind of sucked."
"I know this is hard for you, Jean-Paul, but even you can't be perfect the first time." Lydia sounded snarky, but her smile and expression were soft, almost so much as to be entirely out of place on her. "Being a hero takes practice, too."
"Lies and slander. Expect a call from my lawyer as soon as I can sit up without the room spinning." His eyes closed briefly; when they opened, they were focused on the IV drips overhead. "It was a very close thing," he admitted finally, perhaps to her, perhaps to himself.
Now, her voice matched her expression. "I wondered. You look like shit--though that's relative. You look like shit for you. Can you tell me what happened, or should we save it?"
In response, Jean-Paul managed a twitch that might have been an attempt at a one-shouldered shrug.
"We had to get in and out quickly, and the guards had not been much trouble, so we split into two teams. It was me and Josh and Tessa. We went into one of the labs, Tessa did her things with the computers, but then we got hit with...some kind of pheromone junk. They set Laura on us after that...someone had to keep her busy while the others got washed off. So..." A more definite shrug this time. "I volunteered." That was the polite way to put it, anyway.
And no one else could've, was what he wasn't saying, but Lydia knew it all the same. It was horrifying on multiple levels: Jean-Paul being near-eviscerated by a classmate with intent to kill--no wonder he would rather not sleep. Laura being taken over by pheromones. She seemed like an odd, catlike creature sometimes, but squad work had taught Lydia that Talon was also a very deliberate, careful, and even protective girl.
Lydia knew what it was to be controlled. But not... for this.
"That is heroic." And scary and sad and horrific, but she didn't need to tell him. She leaned over and kissed his hair, since his head seemed to be mostly intact, anyhow. "Since it would've been awkward, if you hadn't." And by awkward, of course, they both meant 'tragic'.
"It's bad form to come back with fewer kids than you left with, non?" He was focused on her when she straightened up. "I will be all right. They will probably keep me in therapy, but I will be all right."
"Therapy sounds like a good idea," said the girl who hated it, for herself. But god, for this... "And I know you'll be all right." She squeezed his hand. She'd be here with him.
