Disclaimer: X men is not mine!
A/N: My first Rogan! My very limited knowledge comes from the first movie. I watched it when I was young, and the only actor that made an impression on me was Anna Pequin. So I watched it again like a couple months ago, and come on, it's totally blatantly Rogan. (Okay, it's not, but in my head it is). I'm kind of boycotting x2 and x3 though, I don't like where the storyline is going :P. Umm so the point of this is to emphasize that these characters are adults now, about 21 22ish, and to make their characters more dimensional. Oh, and to avoid portraying Jean as a - um - witch. I don't love her, but she's sorta cool, so.. idk. This first chappie is sorta to "set the scene". Leave reviews! (or don't, I know there's not much to review, haha). And I don't pretend to know anything about psychology. So the "advice" that Dr. Grey gives? Ignore it, it has no truth to it! (At least, not intentionally)
Mind Games
10:14 a.m.
"…And then I wake up. But I can still hear the voices in my head, taunting him, teasing him. 'Silly rabbit… Trix are for kids."
Marie leaned back in her chair, glaring over her clipboard.
"You're making fun of me."
"But, doc!" Bobby tried his best to look scandalized. "Aren't you supposed to be sympathetic to your patient's issues, no matter how… extreme… they might seem?"
"Not when you're blatantly insulting me, Bobby – and your fifteen minutes are up, you can leave now."
11:00 a.m.
Watching a smirking Hank leave the med-lab, Marie passed her hand over her face. Three years of training with Dr. Grey, and she was finally ready to interact with real people in the professional setting. First up: psychology.
"Just sit with some students and staff for fifteen minutes," Jean had said, "and see what you come up with. Careful observation is a key skill in psychology." Marie had agreed, enthusiastically, and was confident she could do a good job. Dr. Jean had complimented her many times for her quick grasp of psychological theory, and besides, the patients would most likely be people she knew well.
'That was where I went wrong,' Marie thought dejectedly, 'Assuming that my closest friends would show some consideration and try to make things easier for me.'
Almost everyone she had seen that day – Scott, Bobby, Ororo, Kitty, Hank – had been unbelievably silly, screaming loudly, describing strange (and obviously made-up) dreams, and acting totally out of character.
Marie bit her lip, waiting for Dr. Jean to come in and discuss the day's session. She glanced down at her clipboard, and found that next to the names of her patients, she had started to write something, and then scribbled it out. Started again, then scribbled. Started, then scribbled. She sighed when she realized there were no legit notes on her clipboard at all.
11:08 a.m.
"…and so judging by that little performance, he should be schizophrenic and xenophobic! Isn't that an oxymoron? Isn't that impossible? But it doesn't even matter, Jean, because none of them were even bothering to even pretend they were taking it seriously!"
Marie blew into her handkerchief, and Jean nodded sympathetically.
"And how does that make you feel?"
Marie snorted and threw the wadded up, gooey, handkerchief in Dr. Grey's direction.
"It's just, that line we're supposed to draw, between professionalism and human compassion, I felt so –sniff- so sure that I could do it, you know? I felt I could make the distinction, especially with people I've lived with for three years! If I can't do it now, how can I expect to deliver accurate results with –sniff– with complete strangers?"
Jean walked over and laid a hand on Marie's shoulder.
"It's alright, Marie, it was your first time. Now, it was bound to be a bit of a fluke – the patients are people you know, so not only are the results more likely to be influenced by your own bias, but the patient is likely to withhold or mislead, out of the fear of being judged. It's the difference between telling your deepest, darkest, secret to your mother, versus telling a complete stranger. You'd be surprised how many people pick the latter."
Yeah, they'd talked about that particular example at length during classes. It didn't make Marie feel much better though.
"I still feel like I should have been able to exert some control over the situation, though. There must have been something I could have done to…to look inside themselves, or something, and make them reach down into the core of their soul and, and…"
Jean laughed.
"All things considered, I think you did a good job today. You might not have felt like you had a lot of control over your patients, but you did control yourself. And you controlled your temper, that's important. You also let them talk, or scream, as the case may be, about whatever they wanted. Letting your patient know they can talk freely with you is, again, important. I know these are things we've talked about already, but sometimes, in practice, it's difficult to realize which skills you're using, and which one's you're forgetting to use. Your communication skills are fine – now we just need to work on your manipulation."
Marie grinned.
"Manipulation?"
"Not in the sense you're thinking," laughed Jean, "but manipulation can be quite helpful in directing a conversation to go where you want it. That way, your patient is free to talk… but you also get the information you need to help them."
"Thanks, Jean. I'll be more composed next time, I swear."
"Don't even worry about it. Listen, you and 'Ro want to eat out today? I feel like I haven't seen natural daylight in months."
Looking at their metallic, sterile surroundings, Marie smiled.
"I'll be in the garage in like ten minutes," Marie called, picking up her messenger bag and striding out of the med-lab. "And don't worry about 'Ro, I'll ask her on the way up!"
10:40 a.m.
"Wheeeeee!"
"Are you sure Scott won't mind?"
"It's okay, I'll just tell him that I couldn't help it."
"Wheeeeeee!"
"And he'll buy that?"
"He will if I tell him that the Logan in my head made me do it"
"Wheeeeeee!"
Ororo laughed, and Marie accelerated.
Who said girls didn't like motorcycles?
10:50 a.m.
"Whaddaya mean, they're still serving breakfast?"
Ororo peered at the menu.
"It says here that they don't serve lunch until 11:30."
"Which, technically, is when we should have gotten here…"
Marie smirked.
"Don't lecture Jean, I think you had the most fun out of all of us!"
Jean grinned.
"I won't deny that it was an adrenaline rush, pushing 120 on residential streets. Running those three red lights. Actually hovering above the street when we hit that rain puddle."
"Kudos to Charles for that particular physics lesson on hydroplaning," Ororo said, flipping the menu closed. "I think maybe he might have been trying to warn against reckless driving… but that message may have been lost on, oh, the entire class, when he started reminiscing in a dream-like voice. And I don't see what's wrong with having pancakes for lunch."
11:40 a.m.
"I don't know what came over me, Scott, honest."
"Don't apologize, Marie, it's not your fault."
"I just feel so bad about it! It's your motorcycle, after all, and I would never steal!"
Cue puppy dog eyes.
"Don't – don't think of it as stealing, Marie, you just borrowed it. I mean, you came back with it, right?"
"Thanks, Scott. I just don't know how to control all these people in my head, sometimes."
"I completely understand. And you're doing such a good job, too. You've only taken my motorcycle two or three times this month. I really think you're getting better."
"Thanks Scott, I think I am, too."
11:50 a.m.
"Getting better at not getting caught!"
St. John rolled his eyes and smiled. They were in the rec room, filled with noisy games of pool, foosball, and air hockey.
"Where're 'Ro and Jean?"
"I dropped them off about a block away, so they're walking back. I can explain to Scott why Logan convinced me to take his motorbike, but not why I dragged Jean and 'Ro with me." She paused. "Come to think of it… I probably could."
"When's your next sparring session?"
"Not 'til tonight. Scott still wants to work on my super-skin."
St. John smirked at the sarcasm in her voice.
"Me too. You'd think it'd be simple – I either shoot fire, or don't. But no, I have to control the exact temperature as well. There's nothing wrong with using human tools, you know. The next time I want to dry my hair, I'll use a hair-dryer. It's what they're for. St. John patted his slightly singed hair as Marie dissolved into giggles beside him.
A/N: Review! Go! Do it! :) I desperately want to go to Canada now. We usually go to Toronto like once a year cuz my parents friends are up their and we're friends with their kids too.. but we didn't go this year! And I found out that X files was filmed in Vancouver for a couple episodes. aaaand wasn't marie picked up by logan in Canada? Hehe.