Disclaimer: I don't own X-men Evolution. Never did, and probably never will. This is an old unfinished one shot I found sitting in the back of my files that I decided to finish with some editing, a little rewriting & a few keystrokes.
Note: This is not meant as a commentary in any way on how I see the relationship between two of our favourite X-people. On the contrary, I'm a fan of the Jean & Scott relationship (DIE FROST!). However, I think this started after reading one-too-many "Scott dumps/ everyone hates Jean" ficts, in an attempt to show how she feels about it all, while adding Legion to the mix. Thus, I present to you...
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Two Mutants Walk Into a Bar
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"Why are you doing this?"
Jean Grey looked at her own image through the clear, empty glass in her hand. When her reflection didn't answer, she sighed miserably, and found herself ordering another Mimosa, downing half of it in one shot. Slumped on her left elbow and propped up against the bar, she gave a slight hiccup over her own drinking speed, but didn't wince as she allowed the orange juice and champagne to start settling into her stomach. It was her third tonight, and combined with an earlier Sweet Maria and a Grasshopper, it was a wonder everything was remaining down without much protest. Already her mind was beginning to succumb to the effects of the heavy alcohol, starting to unravel and give her a pleasant buzz. Good. Another few shots, a martini or two, and maybe she'd forget everything. She'd forget that she was in a seedy little bar, forget the uncomfortable thoughts and occasional leer patrons tossed her way, forget how much this little endeavour promised to take out of her pocket. Maybe she'd even get lucky, and forget what she was doing in a pub in the first place.
It was a miracle none of the others had tracked her down yet, a miracle Jean prayed would continue. She'd turned off her cell phone not too long ago, wanting to remain undisturbed. Still, one never knew when the world would be in danger, when the team would need her, when some new crises came into her life and she was expected to show up and aid the force. Then of course, she'd have to explain why she, Jean Grey, prized student, pristine perfect young woman and example to all, was drinking, alone, in a dank little bar so late at night. Somehow, she doubted everyone back in the mansion would approve. She wasn't certain she would be able to blame them if they didn't. However, that was the choice, the risk she'd taken. As it stood, she still wasn't certain what she was going to say to Logan when she walked in the front door with heavy liquor on her breath. Maybe she'd get lucky and he wouldn't still be up, or maybe she'd be able to help him forget without Professor Xavier catching on.
Or, she mused, maybe she'd get so stinking drunk that she would forget to come home, and wake up in the middle of a brand new world with a brand new life. It was an impossible dream, but one so much easier to hope for as each drop of liquid touched her lips.
She sighed deeply, left hand reaching up slightly to finger her temples, then caress her red tresses. She needed... something tonight, that much she was certain of. With the one person she couldn't talk to back at the mansion, she had tried to find it outside, but little helped. Shopping did nothing save waste more money, while a walk to the park had made her feel like she was pussyfooting around the entire affair. In desperation, she sought to find answers at the bottom of a glass... and was still searching. But it helped a little, depressing her into clarity, and presenting the chance to wash everything away. Tonight, that was all she could do, as she downed the rest of the glass.
This was ridiculous. This was stupid. Alcohol was a known depressant, and an addictive one at that. Yes, part of her argued, it was helping shut out that little voice in her head... all the little voices in her head, including her own as it brought about a small sense of peace that would otherwise be unknown. However, the effect was temporary, and wouldn't last. Her poor mood would resurface worse than before, while tomorrow morning she'd be struggling not to end it all thanks to the sharpness known as a hangover. Her mentors would reprimand her for careless behaviour, her team-mates be thrown into shock, and her boyfriend...
Her lips pursed as she lifted the glass off the counter and examined the clear container closely, a small amount of orange liquid shifting inside. Her boyfriend would probably be a mix of the two, then move on without giving a damn.
"Fancy meeting you here luv."
Jean scowled at the familiar voice, a Scottish brogue with a mocking melody. "What the hell do you want?" she hissed, eyes narrowing as the voice's owner leaned against the bar. This was not an encounter she needed right now.
"Me? Oh, I was just looking for a spot to wet my whistle," Lucas replied coyly, "but I must admit, I was surprised to see a familiar face, let alone yours." He rapped twice on the countertop with his bare knuckles. "I was under the impression your kind didn't like to get drunk."
"We don't!" Jean snapped, slamming her glass down hard against the wooden surface. What was he doing here, with her? Did he want a fight? In the back of Jean's mind, fear started to spread: Lucas was still a match that she couldn't beat, and certainly not when half her mental abilities wouldn't be able to function properly at all. If he attacked... the words "sitting prey" came to mind.
If his intentions were for anything other than casual conversation however, Lucas didn't show it. "Than what do you call all that? American water?" He gestured to the near-empty glass. "I could be wrong, but that looks a hell of a lot stronger than your typical fruit drink."
Jean flushed, desperately wishing she could hide the evidence of her recent binge. "This.. this is none of your business."
"No, it's not, but I'm curious just the same. The high and mighty Jean Grey getting herself into a bloody stupor, all alone on a Friday night. If there was a bet on the odds of catching you like this, I'd have lost me five bucks. Interesting though... very interesting." His eyes gleamed, as a hand reached up to stroke his chin. Jean squirmed in her seat under his burning gaze, as a low cackle rose from his throat. "I must admit, I approve, although I doubt others would."
He smirked as Jean's cheeks flushed red, almost enough to match her hair.
"It's just a... just a one-time thing, so don't get any ideas," she glared. Her green eyes became piercing, as she preyed for all she was worth to develop any sort of latent pyrokinetic abilities, so she could burn the rogue mutant to a crisp. No such luck was with her, unfortunately, as he continued to lean beside her, cocky as ever.
Damn it, she really didn't need this. She needed... she needed... her hand went to her purse, searching for another few dollar bills. Anything that might buy her a bit more forgetfulness from this moment. Cards shifted in her grasp, and a few coins, pennies, jingled slowly, but nothing else touched her hand. Her fingers grew desperate when she realised she was out of money... and there wasn't an ATM in sight.
Even with the present company, she really didn't want to leave, not yet... she didn't want to go search for a machine... or give it up and go home. Not yet...
A trio of twenties slammed on the counter before she could get up and consider her options.
"I'll have a bottle of scotch, and two shot glasses," the blond telepath declared to the bartender, sitting down on the stool next to hers. He gave an easygoing smirk at the hateful look she shot him. "Not often I find myself in such pretty company when I go out for a pint. Might as well enjoy it."
"I don't need your charity," Jean rebuked.
"No, but you'll take it," Lucas responded. "And while you do, you can tell me all about why the queen of Bayville is out drinking herself into a daze."
Jean scowled. "Why don't you just pick it up from my mind? You're suppose to be the superior telepath after all."
Lucas laughed coldly. "You really want that, luv?"
"Since when do you care about 'want'?"
"Always, when the want is mine..." Jean shivered on the stool, "but no..., no I think I'll leave your pretty little thoughts alone tonight." The redhead raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. Was Lucas actually being.. courteous? She considered asking further, when he cut her off with a witty barb. "'Sides, I'm sure all that alcohol's made your mind a regular mess. Probably got so many thoughts going every which way I'd be surprised you can talk, let alone keep slamming it all in. Speaking of which..." He snatched the bottle the bartender had provided, and filled up a shot glass, sliding it over to Jean. "Ladies first."
The redhead frowned but picked up the clear glass. Now how did this go-? With one eye still on the blond at her side, she took a quick sniff before tossing the brown-gold liquid down. As it made contact with her tongue, her senses flamed, and she choked once. The hard liquor was stronger than anything else she'd tried tonight. It didn't just open her eyes, it burned all the way down her throat, jolting the system like nothing else. For a moment, she was speechless, putting the shot glass back down on the counter. Nevertheless, she still didn't get up from her stool.
"Good girl." Lucas downed his own, showing absolutely no reaction to the drink save a gulp of contentment. "Nothing like the real stuff to put you at ease. Better?"
"Oh, yes, I feel absolutely peachy now," Jean retorted. "I'm sitting next to one of my mentor's most dangerous foes, half intoxicated while my throat still burns from what he calls a 'real drink'."
Lucas went quiet for a moment, as Jean prayed he would remain so for the rest of the night. Either that, or loose interest, and go find some "fun" with someone else. Already she could see that he was getting looks from some of the few less reputable women in residence, and, to her surprise and annoyance, more than one of the girls appeared disgruntled by her presence. As if; they could run right up, snatch him by the collar and drag him to the rest room for all she cared. Then maybe she could go back to drinking in peace... and escaping reality once more.
To her annoyance however, Lucas remained. She considered moving herself, when he caught her off-guard.
"So why y'here luv?"
"Huh?" She blinked.
"I asked, what are you doing here? No offence, but like I said, this really an't your kind of place, 'specially not alone. Lucky no one here knows what you are... been a while since your face has been on the telly I suppose, or maybe they an't the types to care. Either way, you're here, and you're well on your way to getting completely smashed. What gives?"
"I told you-"
"And I'm getting real tired of you avoiding the question, so why don't I give the answer: something in your life right now really sucks."
Jean blinked. It was a general statement, and not hard one to guess all things considered, but still, none of the others would ever have been so blunt. They would have asked what was wrong... made a few small guesses as to the exact problem... try to convince her to open up, and give her sympathy mixed with the "my door is always open" speech.
Lucas didn't bother to wait for a reply as he continued on, "... and that something is either a somebody, or somethin' really, really embarrassing. Otherwise you'd be spilling your guts to someone else right now." He gave her a minor leer. "Me, I wouldn't mind to hear if it was the latter..."
The female mutant growled, "You jer-"
Lucas took another shot, "...but I'm betting on the former. So what is it? Da' giving you a tough time?"
Jean simply continued to glare at him. "No, your father is not giving me a hard time. He's handling things at the Institute well: our public relations are still a problem and we've gotten quite a few new students, but Professor Xavier's doing the best he can. He's a..."
"A good man, respectable individual, and a brilliant teacher, yes, I know, I've heard that spiel before," Lucas drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure the man's applying for Sainthood next spring. However, even Saints screw up. You, him, the weather witch, Scotty boy, none'o you are excused from that."
"No, " Jean glanced at her glass as Lucas's words hit home. "No, we're not."
She put her head in her hand, leaning on the bar counter and looking into her own empty glass.
Her drinking companion simply waited. "So?"
Jean paused, before responding. "Why should I tell you anything? Why do you want to hear my problems anyway?"
Lucas shrugged. "They say that misery loves company, and like I said, I was surprised to see you here, like this. Last I checked, you were living uptown, complete with near-do-well boyfriend, good job and plenty of friends." He noted that Jean cringed at his description, and decided to try barbing her for another response. "Quite a life really. Teacher by day, super hero by night. The princess of the mutant word, complete with dream castle and prince on a white as- er, horse." He gave an inward chuckle at the slip, although there was no point in trying to pretend he actually gave a rat's behind about Scott. Still... was the a growing frown on her face?
"Oh, yes," Jean muttered sarcastically, her voice laced with a thin vile of anger. "Things are great back home, juuuuuust great." She started to clench her teeth.
Things were getting interesting again. Time to apply another thumbscrew.
"Actually, from what I've hear about you boyos, unless they've bombed that sad story of an education centre in the past day, you've got pretty close to a perfect life."
Lucas couldn't hide his grin as Jean's eyes shot up, hair twisting like a snake from a touch of uncontrollable telekinesis. Oh yes, that one did it.
"PERFECT??!!" Jean all but screeched. She looked Lucas straight in the eye, and even the master mental was forced to raise an eyebrow at the ferocity in her emerald irises. "Oh, yes, my life is absolutely perfect! I'm teaching brats who'd rather set my hair on fire than learn a single damned thing. I'm watching former friends and team-mates get on with their lives while I'm stuck in the same place I'll be ten years after I die. I spend half my time trying to keep the peace, and the other half getting shot at by anti-mutant bigots who don't think I qualify as a living being, let alone human. I get up at five for training with a man so tough he can make a biker cry in under five minutes. I have to be the model of sincerity, politeness, maturity and goodwill, because if I don't everyone around me will think I've lost it. I have no future, just a dream that's tearing apart, seam by seam. I lost every normal friend I had three years ago, and now, now I'm on the verge of becoming stone drunk, talking to a man, who, by all rights, should be trying to kill me. You call THAT perfect?!"
Lucas didn't bat an eye. "Ahhh, now we're getting somewhere. What's wrong luv, can't handle the pressure of being a freak?"
Jean's blinked at his phrase, gritting her teeth. Damn him! Damn him for getting riled up, damn him for getting her a drink and damn him for his damned questions. Still, determination etched over Jean's features. She wouldn't show further weakness, not to him. Silently, she counted to five, the anger in her voice calming to a controlled tempo. "News flash Mr. Haller, I've been a mutant for the past five years. What makes you think I can't deal with it now?"
"Getting tougher then it was five years ago girl." Lucas looked at his glass solemnly. "I don't need to remind you, do I, about that whole mutant registration act going down? Seems you and your buddies set quite an example with that ex-principle of yours: he's going all the way up to the senate on his racist cause."
Jean paused, the anger filtering out of her eyes as she looked longingly past Lucas, out the door. Her vocals dropped to a whisper. "It won't pass... we'll be accepted... eventually." Somehow, Jean wasn't even certain if her own words held conviction, or if she believed them.
"It won't pass because we're more powerful than they'll ever be, and no one wants a witch hunt. But accepted? Doubtful, that's me Da talking through you there girl. Nothing but a hopeless dream..."
"It can't be that way... we've got to get along..."
"Everyone will never like everyone luv. Kelly hates mutants, Magneto hates humans, and me.. well, I gotta tell ya, smacking around me Da and yer boyfriend sounds like fun every time I think about it."
"Scott..." her words were hallow, uncertain, shaky.
"Ah," Lucas hummed, picking up on the subtle tone of her voice. "That's not the sound of someone longing for 'er lover. You and Scotty-boy have a fight recently?"
Jean glanced away from him, towards the other side of the bar. "Maybe."
"About what? The fact that he's still a total ass? Or did Daddy's pet finally get wise and bite the hand that's been feeding him?" Lucas switched off from his earlier witty banter and spoke in a tone devoid of emotion.
Jean shot him a glare, one that would burn a normal man's eyes and leave him frozen in his spot.
Lucas simply continued to drink, not batting an eyelid. He drank and waited for the present company to continue. Finally, the redhead relented.
"We've been... drifting apart," Jean admitted to her shot glass. She sighed deeply, resting her chin on one of her hands, propped up by an elbow to the counter. She still wasn't certain if she wanted to have this conversation, certainly not with Lucas of all people, but letting it out was easier than the continued web of denial. Perhaps, she mused, because unlike those back home, he wasn't going to baby her emotions, tell her it would all work out regardless of what she said. Perhaps because unlike everyone else he didn't know the history, or more accurately, didn't care in the least. Or perhaps she'd finally had enough that she was too drunk to care. "He's so serious now... more, I think, than he ever was back in High School. I mean, when we were growing up, I knew that he liked to follow regulations strict, to a 'T', but now? Now he doesn't seem to smile in between. He doesn't take that time out of his day for himself, doesn't seem to care that there's a world outside the institute. Everything else seems to be outside the big picture... even me."
"Ah," came Lucas's comment, as he poured himself another drink. "So that's what all this is about- Mr.Right's ignoring you."
Jean frowned. "Ever since our final battle with Apocalypse, Kitty and Lance have been tighter than ever. Oh, they still fight a lot," she chuckled inwardly, recalling some of her younger team-mate's vocal banters, "but they always make up even harder. She tries to cut him slack, and he's made a genuine effort to be more gracious to the rest of the team. Right now, half the mansion is betting on when they'll finally get engaged and set a date. I'm five bucks for a year next fall, and Tabitha's got twelve for the winter after that. Odds of a wedding in June are 10-1.
"Rogue left the team a while back, said she needed to get out on her own for a while. Kitty, Scott, Kurt and Logan get letters, about how she's travelling around, from Louisiana and the Mississippi to California and L.A. A month ago she sent a postcard from Dallas, saying she'd hooked up with former Acolyte Gambit. They're officially dating now, although how serious remains to be seen."
"Two team-mates dating the enemy?" Lucas smirked. "How un-X-man."
The cool, quiet laugh in Jean's throat caused her cherry lips to perk. "Please, ever since Apocalypse he's hardly an enemy. Besides, between Colossus's showing up on our doorstep and Nick Fury's offer to the Brotherhood, we've been forced to makes some new choices over who the enemy really is." Catching the cheshire features overcoming Lucas's amused face, she stopped his musings with a deadpanned statement. "You're still high on the list, by the way."
Lucas waved it off. "Never said I'd have it any other way. Go on."
"Kurt took Amanda on a tour of Europe last spring. Rahnee and Jubilee are back with the New Mutants, and Bobby's now a regular X-man. Evan's still with the Morlocks, so Ororo brings down care packages every chance she can get. Logan finally convinced his "clone" to give the institute a shot, and although she's quite a hell-raiser at times, the body count is getting lower. Danielle Moonstar joined us a year ago to become the new leader of the New Mutants, and a Vietnamese girl names Xian moved in two weeks ago. Jamie graduates from Bayville High this year. Tabitha... well, no one ever knows where Tabitha will remain in the end, but she still pops by to hang out with Amara from time to time.
"They're growing up, they're changing. Everyone's finding themselves, moving on and coming to terms with their lives, their relationships. It seems like every day we get a new face at our door, and even those that leave are never gone for good.
"Everything's changing... except for Scott and I. Our relationship has stayed in the exact same place since we graduated High School." Jean reconsidered her words. "No, check that... it's worse now, it's like we've fallen back a few steps. When we graduated, we both figured this was it, our relationship was where we wanted it to be, and no matter what problems we faced, we'd face them together."
Lucas snorted. "I take it that's not the truth now?"
Jean flipped five fingers through her loose ruby tresses as she continued to stair into her shot glass. "Oh, we've faced everything together. Every new enemy, every wild card at our door, every government crackdown and every petty fight between friends. We face everything... except problems with 'us'. When we graduated from Bayville High, he told me how much I mean to him, how he loved me every day, every week. Now? I'm lucky if I get a single flower on my birthday."
She gritted her teeth. "Unintentional, of course. He never means to forget things, like the anniversary of our first date, or Valentines day, he just gets so caught up with everything else that he can't make the time. Worse, it seems like no matter what I say, no matter what I try, he doesn't fully understand why it's so important for us to just be, to do things together as a couple and move further. When I'm with him, I'm with him but he isn't with me." Jean sighed. "His body is there, but his mind is on the battle field, or some other training operation. When you're a telepath, you pick up on that real quick.
"I agreed to be an X-man, I agreed to be a teacher. However, I never agreed to be someone's 'on the side' girlfriend for the rest of my life."
"Understandable. So why don't you tell'em straight up?"
Jean raised an eyebrow. "Tell'em straight up?" she repeated incredulously
"Tell him that you want a change. Tell him that you deserve a better relationship, one in which you don't always come in second to yer boy's job. Tell him that you want more out of your life, and even if he isn't up for going that extra mile, you sure as hell intend to." Lucas stared back at her. "Be like that flam'en red hair of yours and create a little smoke, start a few sparks. Heck, put your suitcases by the front door and threaten to go to mother, or wherever a queen of freaks like yourself would be welcome. That's a common trick of your gender." Lucas filled up his shot glass and took a swig. "It's your life lass; no reason why you should always be waiting on him all the time. Maybe it's high time he went back to waiting on you."
Jean blinked. Had she heard right or had far too much alcohol? She and Scott were having problems true, but was she really ready to leave him? "I..." she faltered, uncertain of how to respond.
"No answer? No surprise, I suppose that'd be an awful big step for most gals." Lucas paused, considering. Across the bar, behind bottles of different liquor and aged glasses his blue eyes met their match in a tarnished mirror, his light blond hair a stark contrast with Jean's radiant red. "Still, sometimes you need to take big steps to get yourself anywhere. Me, I'd never have gotten full control of me body unless I set up that plan against Da. Had to really play my cards right too, least I let pops do exactly what he expected and shut m'self with Ian away in the dark."
Memories of David washed over Jean's eyes, as she recalled the simple teen she'd met all too briefly. A boy terrified, not only because of where he was but by what he powerlessly became: the mutant version of Dr. Jackle and Mr. Hyde. "It's not your body Lucas," a chill escaped Jean's lips. "It belongs to that poor boy you've enslaved."
"Nay lass, it belongs to the one with the power to control it." Lucas dropped the mirrors gaze, and grabbed Jean's from the corner of his eyes, not quite facing in her direction. His voice dropped the pleasantries for a moment, a harsh rumble echoing from his throat. "What? Did ye expect for someone like me to spend the rest of his life in the shadows, always watching, never taking action?"
Jean ignored his sudden change of temperament. "I suppose you want to tell me about how your freedom's more important than David's? Never mind that it's his body to begin with?"
Lucas shrugged. "Close, but not quite. I am David girl, just not the part of him that Mommy or Daddy could approve of. I'm the side that he wanted to become, the man who he wanted to be. I have the looks, the charisma, the power... all of it."
"David didn't want to become a monster!" Jean slammed her glass on the counter, and only awareness that neither was alone prevented her from standing up with righteous rage.
"Perhaps, but being a monster was already in his code. Our father's the great Charles Xavier after all, can't get away from that. He was a monster to himself and his mother the moment his mutant powers existed. I simply came in and took a body he wouldn't have accepted."
"He would have accepted it." Jean countered. "If Professor Xavier had known about you, all of you, he would have taken you in, and that boy might be a faithful friend to mutant kind right now."
"You think so? You'd best be reminded Miss Grey, that the reason why I'm here is because David couldn't accept it. He couldn't accept that his own father abandon him and never came for his own son. He couldn't accept that he was anything other than a normal boy. So... here I am."
A bitter taste entered the redhead's mouth but she said nothing. The conversation was becoming fruitless: Lucas was Lucas, a cold, uncaring and unfeeling bastard. There was no sense trying to appeal to his good nature or conscience.
The blond clearly didn't have either.
"I accept that Scott and I are having problems," Jean returned the conversation towards Lucas's original advice, "but we will get through them. I'll talk to him, try to work it out and hope for the future."
"And if that talk show advice doesn't work?" How odd it was to hear the Scottish brogue with such a singsong melody.
Jean was resolute, and suddenly felt much better than she had several drinks ago. The buzzing was still there, but her determination was etching away at the alcohol's otherwise depressant qualities. Or, perhaps this was the inflated self-esteem that could also come from the bottle. "Even if we break apart, when he needs me as a friend and team-mate, I'll always be there for him. We're X-men: nothing's suppose to break that bond."
"Of course," Lucas rolled his eyes, indicating how much respect he had for that bit of information. For another moment, he sat in silence. His eyes skimmed over her face, as if marking her serious features for satire later. As his eyes drifted from her face to the rest of her, he chuckled, shooting Jean a lecherous smirk. "Course, y' could always have a hot and heavy affair with another, more dashing and worldly telepath. I'm sure Scotty-boy's jealousy would be more than a wake-up call."
A refilled shot glass of scotch smacked Lucas's face in surprisingly little time.
"No thank you." Jean responded in a cold, frigid tone.
The blond scowled, pulling out a handkerchief from his vest to wipe off the alcohol from cheeks. He winced at the slight amount of the drink touched his eyelids, telekinetically moving the small droplets onto the cloth, where they would cause less of a sting. He gritted his teeth, anger edged in his voice. "Now that... was a bloody waste of a good drink."
"It was worth it." The redhead retorted, not an ounce of humour in her voice as she refused to back down.
Lucas finished cleaning his face, leaving the cloth on the counter. For a moment, he simply glared, and Jean felt a chill run down her spine, mentally trying to prepare herself for the inevitable crash against the far wall. For a moment, Lucas genuinely appeared to be considering the option.
However, with a casual glance around the bar assuring both parties that they were, indeed, being watched by more than a few curious patrons, Xavier's powerhouse son let it slide. He wasn't scared in the slightest if every one of the foolish humans screamed "mutie" and started a foolhardy attempt to make him leave; on the contrary, a fight might have been fun. However, that hadn't been part of the plan tonight, and besides, he didn't want to have this particular establishment burned down. For all its flaws, tonight it was proving to have two very good points: amusing company and good scotch. Lucas returned to his earlier unfazed attitude. He shrugged.
"Canna blame a guy for trying."
"I blame you for breathing."
"Ouch." Lucas made a show of hitting his fist to his chest like a dagger. "Y' really know how to hurt a lad, you know that Jean."
"Evidently, it didn't hurt enough. You're still here."
"Aye." Lucas smirked. Oh yes, keeping one's cool did have advantages.
Jean was about to say something else, when a new voice interrupted.
"This little boy bothering you, Sweetheart?" Both telepaths turned in the direction of the speaker, looking behind them only to see one of the bar's patrons approach.
He was an older man, possibly ten or twenty years their senior, walking with a confident swagger as he made his way towards them. His appearance was rustic, with faded jeans and a t-shirt that didn't quite hide the beginning of a beer gut, while the scent of him made his presence even worse: he reeked of a mixture between beer and poor body odour. If Jean had time to consider, she might have wondered what Logan would say about such an individual. As it was however, her own concentration was taken by his face: his features were currently sporting a lecherous gaze, with his mouth dribbled into a full smile, as if he was laughing at a joke no one else had heard. Uncomfortable, Jean shifted unconsciously in her seat, while Lucas frowned immediately at the 'boy' reference.
Placing a hand on Jean's own, he breathed heavily, and she tried not to pass out from the noxious fumes, his stale breath smelling like what one found at the bottom of a garbage can. "Name's Ral Bentley, little lady."
Jean squirmed slightly but attempted to keep things civil. "How may I help you Ral?"
"How about a little company? Me an' my friends," he thumbed towards a back table where two other equally... distinguished gentlemen were waiting, "were wondering if maybe you'd care to join us."
His eyes dead set in cold anger, Lucas put a hand on his sleeve, and started to get up.
"She doesn't need..."
"Lucas!" Jean hissed, hushing him with a word as her free hand raised in a stop signal. "I can handle this," she insisted. Turning her attention back to the newcomer, she flicked his hand off her wrist, a gesture lightly backed by her own telekinesis. Smiling in her best polite-but-firm face, she addressed her new admirer. "I'm sorry, but I'm really not in the mood. Maybe you should go talk to someone else."
Ral scowled. "You sure babe? Seems to me what you need is someone to give you a little of the right attention." A look of disbelief mixed with disgust fell over the red head's features, but Ral wasn't done yet. "A pretty thing like you ought to be in the company of some real men."
Lucas's eyebrow twitched. Hitting on Jean without a shot in hell was one thing, but this was becoming another. "If ye don't mind," he spoke with a perfectly straight face, "the lass and I were having a conversation."
"An I say it's time for her to have something better." Pulling himself up to his full height, the drunk balled his left hand into a fist, voice sharpening in what both mutants assumed was intended as a threatening gesture.
"Lucas..." Jean paused, looking anxiously around the room. Few patrons were bothering to watch the interchange between the two men... but all eyes would be on them if a fight broke out, if Lucas used his powers to shove his opponent past a table.. or through a wall.
"Don't worry luv," Lucas remained seated where he was, twirling his shot glass with his fingers. "I wouldn't dream of starting a fight with such a neolithic neanderthal." He drawled. The drunk's face lit up in anger.
"Suppose I ask you to step outside buddy." A hand went to Lucas's shoulder, and Jean winced. This would not end well. Fortunately for her, the blond punk scotsman had better plans.
/'Suppose I ask you to take your hands off the leather./
Like an antique doll whose back key had suddenly been rewound, the greasy bar patron's hand left the mutant male's well-sculpted shoulder with a jerk. His eyes widened momentarily, pupils shrinking as if in a daze. It was a small, subtle gesture, one easily recognisable to any with experience in the effects of telepathy, but relatively unknown to those who did not.
/Now,/ Lucas thought with a smirk, /'ow about you go to the middle of the room there and give us a little entertainment. Something along the lines of "I'm a little tea pot."/
Ral didn't hesitate. Walking towards to centre of the room, he used a chair as a stepping stool, standing tall on an otherwise occupied social table. The four individuals who had been using set table let out a set of curses and cried fowl over his occupancy of their private space. Not to mention his waste of good snacks and ale, as his burly boots tipped over a half-filled mug on the left while he stepped in a tray of peanuts on the right.
Completely ignoring all hisses and shouts, not to mention a few snickers by others watching the scene, Ral stood tall. The curses and negative word choices however, soon switched to an entire bar of open-ended laughter, as he started an intricate song and dance number on the table top.
"I'm a little tea pot, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout..."
A slight gasp caught in Jean's throat, as she realised Lucas's obvious involvement. Her green eyes scanned the crowd in terror, least one patron figure out what had transpired, and call fowl on her or her present company. Of course, Jean realised with a groan, that would be the perfect ending to the evening, wouldn't it? Get drunk, talk with Legion, and finish with running from a mutant-mad mob. How utterly perfect, another tick added to her so-called wonderful life's scorecard.
Yet, as men and women continued to laugh over Ral's misfortune, her fearful prediction found itself without proof of possible passing. All around there were smiles, jeers and catcalls, but not one set of optics or voice was directed in any way towards her. A slight sense of relief swept into Jean's heart as the mob worry started to slip away. Nevertheless, she returned to glaring at Lucas.
"Smart Mr.Haller, real smart. Do you have any idea how close that was?"
"Doesn't look that close to me. They're all so amused by poor-note Pat Boonie on the table, there's not a soul here even bothering to look at us."
Jean bit her lip, internally acknowledging he was correct on that issue, but still unable to allow the incident to slip by.
"What about the suffering you've cause that poor man? What about the embarrassment he's going to feel when one of his buddies?"
"Oh, and I suppose lying drunk in the alley after getting his face smashed in by my fist wouldn't have been an embarrassment? Or were you really going to join his little party? Perhaps they'd have gotten you so hammered that'd be you up there, performing a strip tease." Lucas blinked a moment, considering that line of thought further. "Actually, maybe I shouldn't have stepped in..."
"Don't even think it!" Jean hissed, eyes blazing. Calming herself before they cause another scene of their own, the redhead willed herself back to the tranquil, rational being she attempted to be most of the time. "I could have handled him fine, without my mental gifts. Which is, as your father so correctly states, the point."
Lucas snorted. "Dear god, don't be making one of Dad's speeches now."
Jean continued to frown. "He's right though. We shouldn't use our powers for..."
Lucas chortled. "For what? For a little fun now and then? I hate to be the one to tell you girl... well, actually, that's total bullshit, I'm gonna love saying this, but responsibility an't the only part of life. You need to live a little, have some fun and enjoy your gifts."
"I.. I do enjoy them." Jean mumbled. That was true enough, her telekinesis certainly made things easier, allowing her to lift and move objects around that otherwise might be impossible on her own.
Admittedly, there were other, small uses too, ones that she hadn't been instructed on but rather had discovered on her own. There was a certain amount of guilty pleasure when sitting down to watch her favourite soap, knowing she could mentally change the channel without searching to high heaven for the elusive remote.
Lucas wasn't convinced. "Do you really? Do y'mean to say that you've peered in on someone else's dirty little thoughts? Avoided a question you didn't want to answer by picking up on the intention before it was placed before you? Had an opinion poll on your new look without asking the dreaded, shallow words?" At Jean's continued ruffled discountenance, he took it a step further. "What's wrong? Oh, yes, that's right, such things are 'evil' aren't they? Powers are gifts that need to be used with responsibility, and if you don't use 'em well than you're a horrible person who ought never to have been born with them, is that it then? If I, or anyone else use our special skills in a way that don't look right to me Da, we shouldn't be running free."
Jean faltered. "We've never said that. We've never said that anyone who disagrees with the Institute's vision shouldn't be able to use their powers. The X-men were formed to prevent mutants from abusing their powers by taking advantage of innocent people and..."
"Innocent people? Took a look at the 'Friends of Humanity' lately?"
The redhead refused to budge. "There's more good than bad in this world. I believe that." Jean paused, her voice growing softer. "I have to believe that."
Lucas snorted. "There's more than good and bad in this world, though I'll admit a fine fondness for the latter. There's a whole ocean of grey out there, a colour you of all people ought to be well familiar with."
"So, what, are you saying I should start reading minds left and right, manipulating whomever I please?"
"Mmm, now there's a lovely thought. For now though, how about letting your hair down and walking the line a bit? It's easy to fall off the edge true enough, but you might find it better balanced than all or none. Why not show the world just how much fire Jean Grey really has?"
Jean paused, considering. Lucas was evil. Lucas was a bastard. She was wasted in a bar and near insanity for even talking to the louse. Taking his advice on any matter, in any state, would be absolute ludicrously.
And yet...
Somehow, for all his faults, for all she knew she couldn't trust him as far as she could throw him, she found herself admitting one thing: the jerk had a point.
Back behind them, a sluggish Ral Bentley was starting to find Lucas's mental whims go away. As he realised where he was, and, more importantly, what he had been doing, haggard features started to burn into a brilliant bright red. Anger slipped over his frame, as his eyes searched for a bottle to find, break open, and smack every last one of his laughing admirers with.
"What was I thinking, walking up here to sing the tea pot song of all things! I musta been out of my mind! I..."
Jean placed a hand to her temples, wincing at the tremendous pain of trying to do more than think with her mind at the moment. A hand grasped her shoulder and Lucas looked onwards, smirking and ready to offer any support.
Thankfully, it wasn't needed.
".. I should have sung something with a bit more bounce! Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb..."
A slow smile graced Jean's features.
Lucas smirked. "Better?"
"A bit." Jean admitted. Having the drunk sing something so utterly ridiculous actually felt much better than any slap would. It wasn't as if this escapade was going to hurt him after all. Men certainly were known to do worse things after "one too many" at the bar, and likely none would take her or Lucas to task for their mutant hood. As far as everyone else in the room was concerned, Ral was another whiskey-wasted patron, abet one with more peculiar music tastes. Absently, watching him imitate a cuddly sheep made her stifle a giggle.
Unfortunately, as amusing as it was, the night had to end. Jean checked her watch, and her eyes darted towards the doorway. It was nearly 12:30, and a school night: most of the others back at the institute would have started prepping for bed, and turning out the lights. A few night owls would still be up of course, that went without saying, but if she could squeeze in just before 1:00 that might make the questions easier to deal with, than, say, 4:00 in the morning.
Besides, she really didn't want to answer anymore questions tonight. Knowing most of the Xavier Institute, she'd probably put half the faculty and student body alone into cardiac arrest the moment they learned she'd been out drinking. Never mind what would happen when Scott or the Professor discovered who she'd been drinking with.
Absently, she gathered the green suede purse by her side and made certain it was closed firmly, before checking her reflection in the bar mirror across. It wasn't too bad: her eyelids were a little heavy but her hair manageable and her makeup unsmeared. If nothing else, it would be easy to deny any accusations more... unsavoury activities.
Turning to Lucas one last time, she raised her head high, determined to leave with dignity. "I'd say its been lovely but it hasn't. Goodnight Mr.Haller." Throwing her purse over her shoulder, she attempted to walk out with a brisk saunter, and without a look back. The institute wasn't too far: she could probably make it back on foot in less then an hour.
Unfortunately however, her body had other ideas.
As she got up, Jean wobbled. Suddenly, gravity, which up until now had been sedated by her bar stool, started to scream at her, calling for a collapse on the filthy bar room floor. Jean winced, her legs staggering as the fashionable high heals underneath proved a hindrance at keeping the balance. Sitting on the stool all evening, she hadn't been aware of the full repercussions that downing so much caused the rest of her. Her body was tired, weak, and confused, unable to support her full weight on its own. She latched onto the bar and frowned, eyes set on the door. Her mind was starting to twirl; her telekinesis would be unable to help get herself outside.
Determination etched over her features, she took one step foreword, and another, and another.
... all three of which proved her body was unable to uphold any balance at all. Her mind spinning, Jean suddenly felt herself descend onto the tile, her head poised for a hard crash.
A pair of strong, Scottish arms prevented her from landing.
Lucas t'sked. "Too drunk to walk three steps. You really think you'll make it home on your own?"
"I.. I can." Jean stuttered, angry. She attempted to push Lucas away with a powerful shove. "Go away, I don't need you."
Lucas sighed, Jean's push felt about as strong as that of a ten year old. "Yes, yes you do need me luv, and you're gonna get my help whether you want it or not. Come on now." With ease, Lucas ducked around, pulling the redhead's arm over his shoulders, left hand holding onto hers while his right sneaked around the waste for support.
"Watch those hands mister." Jean growled.
Lucas sniffed. "You're in no position to complain Miss Grey. Besides, I don't make passes on gals this drunk."
Jean raised an eyebrow.
"It's like shooting fish in a barrel: too damn easy. If I want to get a gal in the sac, I'd much rather have the fun of trying to charm her into it."
"Didn't work tonight."
"Never said I was trying to."
Jean kept silent after that, accepting the charity of a helping hand out the door. Nevertheless, a sliver of fear dangled in front of her mind. She didn't want to call Scott... call one of the others and ask for a pickup... but could she really trust Lucas either? What if his idea of help was to help her into a cheap motel right next door. Her eyes widened and her legs quaked with fear. Maybe calling home for backup wasn't such a bad idea. After all, she couldn't drive her car.. but he probably could, if he needed to, assuming he didn't have one of his own. Even if he did get her home, what would the others say? This was Lucas, Legion: wayward son of Professor Xavier, enemy of the X-men and mutant powerhouse after all. Would they just let her walk back into her room and lay down, or would they attack at first sight, assuming it was all some plot against the team. Would they let her rest, or would they inquire, lecture, admonish? Would Lucas drop her off, or would he insist on remaining a while, pick a fight with the team. Would he...
"TAXI!"
Jean backed her head up slightly as Lucas signalled a yellow cab on the street corner. Graciously, the cab driver got out, and assisted in escorting Jean into the back seat. Lucas closed the door promptly, then turned to the driver, giving him a wad of bills. "Take'er to the Xavier Institute." he rattled off her address.
The cab driver looked alarmed, and started to complain, voice bordering a shout about how that place was filled with "damned muties" and there was no way he was going to allow "one of them" to be escorted in his cab.
Lucas rolled his eyes.
/Maybe I haven't made myself clear: Xavier Institute, now. The blond considered. Oh, and after you've dropped the lady off, gently, go home and join a pro-mutant campaign. You could use a change of view./
Giving Jean a last devilish wink, he rapped on the side of the vehicle. "A most entertaining evening Miss Grey. If you should ever need some company while getting bombed again, feel free to knock on my door."
"Don't count on it Mr.Haller." Jean retorted from the passenger seat. Oddly, her words held less venom than they had earlier.
Lucas shook his head and stepped back, waving one last time to the fleeting yellow car as the driver pulled out and started down the dark city streets.
As Jean found herself whisking back home, her hand reaching for her temples, she winced. In light of her recent discussion about the proper and improper uses of one's gift, she wondered if perhaps it might be worth a peak into Logan's mind, just fast enough to see if he knew any good hangover cures. She was going to be throbbing under her blankets tomorrow, and as a mental mutant, that pain would be double what any normal being would feel.
Yet, as she found herself looking out the cab's back window, the driver turning another curve on the familiar Bayville roads, she couldn't help but allow a slight smirk to grace her plucky lips.
/You never knew just who you might meet when you step into a bar./
Fin.