The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road, Part II
For disclaimers see part I
Part II Author's Note: I spend some time with the senate because of something that's always bugged me about the movie. At the end, Jean keeps putting Scott off from blasting Magneto. I have no idea what the novelization makes of this but I'm laying the groundwork for what I think her reasons are for later.
Apologies to Marvel, 20th C Fox and etc for the gratuitous usurping of dialogue.
Apologies also to the 'shippers: Bear with me- not so much in this installment- Logan lovers- he's coming really, I swear
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Xavier's School for the Gifted
Westchester, NY
Scott and Jean's bedroom
6:45 am
Scott rolled over onto Jean's side of the bed to feel it cold. Bringing a hand up to his face, he checked to make sure his sleeping goggles were in place, and finally, groggily, opened his eyes. Readjusting to the dim light of dawn, he blinked several times and slowly sat up, goosepimples breaking out over his exposed chest as the sheet fell down to gather around his waist.
Jean soon emerged from the bathroom, buttoning up a red blazer as she walked to the dresser. "Morning," she smiled at his reflection in the mirror.
"Every day at this time. Though typically much pleasanter later in the day."
"Pleasanter?" she asked, amused.
"It's early, Jean. Cut me some slack," he grumbled, shifting on the bed.
"It's okay," she replied, turning and sitting down on the bed. "I love you when you're grammatically incorrect," she continued huskily, running a careless finger over his chest.
"Hmmm care to teach me a lesson?" he countered, twirling a lock of loose hair from her coif with his fingers.
"Mmmm very intriguing, tempting even, but"
"There's always a but," he sighed, briefly caressing her face before withdrawing his hand.
"But. Today I have bigger fish to fry."
"You're gonna have sex with the entire US Congress?"
"Somethin' like that." Scott's eyebrows went up. "Think my fiancé will mind?"
"Probably. I wouldn't tell him," he grinned.
"Good idea." She kissed him tenderly but briefly and rose from the bed. "The Professor wants to leave at seven so I'd better be getting down there soon. Want to exchange any more feeble witticisms with me before I leave?" she quipped, smoothing out her shoes and double-checking the contents of her purse.
"Don't let them get to you," he said, in the concerned voice he saved only for her. She tried to shrug it off but he knew. She knows exactly how much they hate us. More than anyone. Can hear the hate in their heads as well as on their lips. "I mean it, Jean," he rose and went to where she stood by the base of their bed. Taking her face in his hands, he looked directly in her eyes and she stared straight back, in that singular way of hers that made him feel as if she was doing the same even through the goggles. "Don't let them tell you what you are."
"Wasn't planning on it," she replied in all seriousness.
"Don't make them right either. Don't hurl things at the bastards or anything," he smiled, giving her a farewell hug.
Bastards is right. "Well if I must" she smiled back. "Guess it's time to be professional again, huh?"
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
//Liar.// Blowing him a kiss, she walked out into the hallway and shut the door quietly behind her. Scott knew that even as the door was closing Jean herself was probably halfway to the elevator, using that deceptively fast walk of hers.
She'll be okay. One little speech, can't be that bad. And Jean knows how to be persuasive she'll set them straight, he told himself. But he wasn't so sure. Not at all.
~*~*~*~*~
"Good morning, Professor."
"Good morning, Jean."
"I see you've anticipated me. As usual," she added with a smile. Xavier was waiting by the garage entrance, a canister and a brown paper bag in his lap.
He saw her eyes stray to his packages and replied, "They're for the journey. Didn't want you to skip breakfast on such an important day."
"Thank you," said Jean with genuine warmth. "Shall we?" She hastened to the Durango's passenger door and opened it, telekinetically pushing back the modified front seat. Using her powers she lifted him into the space, locking the wheelchair into its grooves and making sure the ramp had been stowed for later, when the procedure would have to be accomplished without such advantages.
As she went around to the drivers side, the Professor frowned. He could feel Jean's anxiety surround his mind. //Jean. Stop worrying. You'll do fine.//
As she turned the key in the ignition, she gave him a weak smile. "Fine may just not be good enough today."
With a grim countenance, he watched the rearview mirror as they pulled out of the driveway. "I know," he murmured. "I know."
~*~*~*~
Eventually they pulled over at a rest stop in Maryland. Conversation had not been much throughout the journey, for both of them were weighted with the consequences of what should happen at the hearings later in the day and spent much time echoing each other's despondent thoughts. But it was then, after having some coffee and half the danish the Professor had packed, that Jean finally broke the question.
"Will he be there do you think?"
"If I know him, he'll be there," said the Professor solemnly. "But what he plans to do, that is what escapes me."
"And worries you."
Xavier shot one of his rare smiles at his protégé. "Your powers are growing, Jean. But it is a greater feat to control them, not just cultivate them."
"I know. I'm sorry," Jean blushed, caught in her use of telepathy.
"What for? Magneto is a fact. We cannot disregard him. Indeed, it would be hazardous if we did." Turning from her, he continued in a low voice, almost to himself, "He'll be there. I'm sure of it." Coming out of his reverie, he added in a more cheery tone, "Well. We ought to get going."
"Yes."
Back on the highway, Xavier asked about the speech she had prepared.
"It says what needs to be said, answers the questions that they wanted answered. But it's just not persuasive enough. I don't know if any words are. Everywhere we go, we are hated and feared and no amount of smooth phrases is going to change that. I can't reverse years of prejudice with one little speech. But if it doesn't accomplish that, if it doesn't convince enough of the men and women in that room" she trailed off, frustration and desperation evident in her voice as both of them contemplated the consequences they knew all too well.
Her feelings were so violent that they almost made Xavier's senses spin. "But not to try, that would be to fail outright."
"Reasonable enough. That's all it is. That's our only argument and theirs as well. To cohabitate without friction. Utopia. Make certain no one is dangerous to anyone else. Perfect. And we become scapegoats for it all."
"Jean. They do not mean it."
Oh yes they do she thought.
Upon hearing her thoughts, which were almost as plain as the grimace on her face, he frowned. "They do not understand. That is what you must try to do- acquaint them with the fullest circumstances and allow them to understand."
"And if they do not?"
"Then we are right where we started."
Nowhere and hopelessly lost, lost, lost thought Jean as she followed the signs to their exit.
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Xavier's School
12:45 pm
Scott's morning class had just got out when Ororo came to meet him in the garage. "I have it on in the common room, if you want to watch. Jean has been talking for almost an hour now," she informed him.
"How's it going?" he asked anxiously.
"I do not know. But it seems like she is coming to an end soon and we will see what they will say," Ororo replied solemnly, and waiting at the door for him to wipe off his hands, walked with him down the corridor to the common room.
Please let it be going well-for all our sakes' he hoped.
The television was set to C-SPAN and front and center on the screen was Jean, wearing her glasses and speaking in a clear, defined voice:
"DNA. It is the basic building block of evolution- changes in our DNA are the reason we have evolved from single-celled organisms to homo-sapiens."
She was flicking through her progression-of-man slides with the precision of someone utterly at ease with their subject and their surroundings. But Scott, whose eyes remained intent upon her face, could see otherwise. She's terrified. She doesn't think she's getting through to them
"Within our DNA are the genes that decide our physical characteristics: our eye color," she said with the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips, "our height, and so forth."
Scott sneered back. He had been privy to the "eye color" comment when she was formulating her ideas for the speech. She had planned on using it as a metaphor for recessive and dominant traits- brown over blue, that sort of thing. She had asked him what he thought about it- if it would work- as if he knew about speechmaking. She had just wanted a comment from him, captive audience, so to speak, but he froze up. Stone cold.
He was insecure about his eyes, he knew that. Can't be a leader without analyzing your own weaknesses, he had explained to Jean later when she had forced him to talk about it. The one thing that could mess with his perfect equilibrium and hard-won confidence: the destructive power behind his eyes. Jean's eyes were the most beautiful, most perfect things he would ever see, he was sure of that. And Jean would never know what it was into his. Sure, she could stare him down but always with his glasses on. She would only know that they were blue because that's what he remembered, what he told her. She cut that part of the speech out after that conversation, a "concession to those embarrassed about silly things like recessive traits like blue eyes and false weaknesses." Damn, she knows me too well.
"When these active genes mutate, we see changes in the body. These evolutionary changes are subtle, and generally take thousands of years."
"Here it comes," he remarked to Ororo, watching anxiously on the couch beside him, gripping the remote control tightly.
"In recent years, and for reasons which are still a mystery, we have seen this latent DNA in our bodies mutating. These mutations manifest at puberty and are often triggered by periods of heightened emotional stress."
The camera panned onto the audience, murmuring amongst themselves. The camera showed a close up of a man identified at the base of the screen as Senator Kelly, Republican of Kansas, who was in deep conversation with a man who appeared to be an aide.
"The new DNA strands caused by the mutations are producing some, admittedly, startling results."
More murmurs amongst the crowd. Scott and Ororo shot one another concerned looks and Scott shifted in his seat. Leaning forward, he remained transfixed to the television as Jean continued:
"In other words, this previously unused DNA is not 'junk' DNA at all but rather a vast storehouse which contains the almost limitless potential for human advancement." Jean paused, as if waiting for the background noise to cease, but it did not. She kept on, this time with a louder voice: "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now seeing the beginnings of another stage of human evolution. Not a new race of creature to be feared, but rather the opportunity to find advancement within us all! It is not in anyone's best interests to pass a bill which would not only deprive others of basic human rights but also would deter science and the common good. The Mutant Registration Bill -"
"Ah, yes, the bill. Finally something relevant," said Kelly, arising from his seat.
Sonofabitch, Scott thought, scowling at Kelly's projected face. He saw Jean's face contort for a brief second with what he knew to be contained rage and digust before returning to its typical serene countenance. Good girl but so help me, I want to punch his face in
"Senator, I have not yet finished" Jean began but got no further before he interrupted her again.
"Yes, yes, the cartoons were very interesting. Educational. However, it fails to answer the larger issue. The issue that is the focus of this hearing- three words: are mutants dangerous?" he asked mockingly, gesturing with a handful of papers.
"That is an unfair question, Senator. The wrong person behind the wheel of a car can be dangerous," Jean countered.
"He is the one who is dangerous. Unprincipled, prejudiced minds always are," Ororo rebuked the screen, angry.
"Sonofabitch!" Scott muttered.
"Yes, Ms. Grey, but we license people to drive," he waved his finger at her.
"Yes, Mister Kelly, but not to live," she retorted in kind.
"I can't watch this anymore," said Scott, disgusted, as he watched Kelly continue to parade around the floor of the Senate, now reading from his list of 'registered mutants.' "Sonofabitchin' Nazi asshole."
"Where are you going?" Ororo asked from the couch as he was leaving, not wanting to miss the end of Jean's speech time. "It is not over yet."
"Yes it is. It was a done deal before she ever even got to speak," he replied wearily, and left the room to go work out in the gym. At least I can punch the living daylights out of your effigy, Senator Kelly
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Somewhere in Maryland
On the road again, Jean tried to will her muscles to relax. Her muscles refused to listen and remained stiff and achy. The Professor was determined to rest on the drive home and was quietly sleeping next to her in the passenger seat. She glanced over at him and sighed, wishing that she could rest too. Not trusting herself to telekinetically steer, she instead replayed the events of that afternoon again in her head for the hundredth-odd time, searching vainly for some measure of hope:
~*~*~*~
Earlier, in Washington
After she was politely asked to relinquish the podium by the Vice President, Jean paced the hallway in front of the Senate chamber, fuming with barely contained rage at Kelly and his followers. Interrupted me, ridiculed me, belittled me and my work AUGH! She continued to pace until the Professor arrived, his face grave.
"It's useless. I can't believe that I have stood in the center of democracy and seen such hypocrites!" she cried as way of greeting.
He smiled benevolently at her. //Jean. Calm down. We don't want to make a scene.//
Pursing her lips tightly together, she refrained from comment. //Let's go then, Professor. I don't trust myself to hold out much longer.//
As they began to head in the direction of the exit, some of the members of the Senate began filing out of the doors.
"Ms. Grey!" an all too familiar voice called her from behind.
She turned and met the eyes of Senator Kelly. Greasy, slimey, no good, friggin' "Yes?" she replied curtly.
He came up to her after nodding at some colleagues and then continued, "A very nice speech, even though it consisted mostly of contrived fiction."
As expostulations rose to her lips and her hands at her sides balled into fists, she heard the Professor repeat: //Jean. Do not let him rile you. Do not permit a scene. It is want he wants. To deny him that is to go with grace and the upperhand.//
"Just out of curiosity, Ms. Grey, what are you?" he asked nastily.
"Pardon?" she replied through clenched teeth.
"You are a mutant aren't you? That's why you defend them. What's your dirty little secret?" he lowered his voice in pitch but his words cut like a knife.
"Perhaps. Do you always consider those who disagree with you to be mutants? I assure you, Senator, many wise men and women can and do, without the benefit of a better gene pool."
"Not better. Wrong. Wrong in the eyes of God, unnatural."
"Wrong in your eyes, perhaps. But not God. Not nature. Not science. You, sir, are no one."
"Perhaps," he sneered back, mocking her. "But I will see the end of you and your kind, of that you can be sure."
"I'll believe it- when I see it." //Jean// the Professor rebuked. "Good day, Senator," she said sharply before turning on her heels in a brisk, almost military 180, and stalked off to the exit doors where the Professor was waiting.
~*~*~*~
Somewhere in New York
Jean grimaced again, and steadying the wheel with one hand, rubbed the back of her neck with the other. What a long day. And if Kelly hadn't been bad enough, there was Magneto.
The Professor had talked to him, she was sure of that. And when she mentioned the anonymous distinguished looking older gentlemen who had wished her luck before the proceedings, the Professor just shook his head. "Eric," he had said with a sigh. She had seen the man in the balcony seats during her speech. Every time she glanced his direction, she saw him not looking at her but at Kelly and some of the other Senators. The Professor said he was planning something. Something of importance.
Moving her head from side to side to help relieve the tension, or to at least try to, she wondered about his relationship with the Professor. They were friends once, and still seemed to maintain vestiges of that friendship. Both seemed to be wanting the same things: independence, safe haven for mutants, for the bill not to pass. Yet there was something sinister about him before she had knew who he was, when he had merely brushed by her in the green room, she had felt chills down her spine.
She sighed again and wished she were home. Anywhere but here, she thought as she watched the skies become darker and the sun set below the distant hills.
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TBC