1963-06-19 - You Need To Know
Summary: Moira checks in on Jean after all that's happened, and Jean imparts some.. knowledge to Moira that was meant to remain secret.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
moira jean 


*

Saturday evening. Most people should be out having fun, fancy dinners, dancing, maybe even a movie. But, Moira doesn't really know how not to work, and she's been a more consistent presence around the Mansion as of late. While no formal offer to teach has been made, most people consider that it will be on the horizon. It's almost as if the woman was always meant to be here. So, she's come back to visit. To check in on a few people, touch base with Xavier, and generally be an offer of help.

One of those people she's been looking for was the strained young woman Jean Grey. She's ducked through most of the common areas, the quiet sound of her crutch on wooden floors giving her away long before she enters any room, but now she's trying the library. She's in a pale green dress tonight, something less business and more weekend, made for the warm summer weather. She limps quietly into the room, pale eyes tracking around the place, looking for the woman she is hoping to check in on before considering sleep.

*

It was a pressing and trying day. Not because she actually went back home to retrieve the rest of her things, but the conversation that she had in the meanwhile. And with everyone asleep (or so she assumes), she took herself to the library, searching out a book of ethical practices in psychology and read for a little bit until she was bored. With no general education or high school diploma in the near future, she at least wanted to get a head start. If not for her, but for everyone else.

No one really asked her to take on the task. In hindsight, it was a selfish move. A need to feel useful.

Moira would indeed find Jean in the library; the far end of the table ladened with books that were randomly pulled from the shelves. Both hands focused in the air as each book moves like waves in the air, forming steps that invert, level, and invert in the opposite direction, the book flaps opening to lay them flat to close again, only to open again to allow the pages of the papers to flip as if a torrent wind blows through. Jean wasn't really dressed for going out. She wore pajama pants, slippers, and a weird top that was covered in teddy bears. She was comfy.

*

"…Miss Grey, am I interrupting?" Moira's voice gently broaches the room's comfortable silence, not wishing to sneak up on or startle the girl, even if it probably wasn't possible to do so. Moira didn't know how fierce or long Charles' barriers were lasting in the girl's mind, so better safe than sorry. Even her walk is gentle, wishing to approach, wishing to give some sort of comfort, but not daring intrude near the young woman's personal space until she is asked.

*

She does take a few more of those uneven steps in Jean's direction, though, standing just a few feet away as her pale eyes fully take in the girl's face. She studies, looking for how tired Jean might seem, what strain lays behind her eyes, or if she's feeling better today than she had been their last encounter. Moira's worried look is very much akin to that of a protective mother's.

*

"No.." Jean answers quietly. She was strained of course, her hands slowly lowering with a little bit of a shake to rest upon the table before her. The books slowly fall in a controlled way, not stacked, but lined out in order as she finally takes a breath. Her hand lifts to rub a little against her eyes, then slowly she lifts up to smile towards the woman with a gesture of her hand. "You don't have to stand. It's okay."

She slides her chair back a little bit for space so that she could lean forward and plant her elbows atop of her books. "I'm glad you're here.. I need to talk to you about something. I mean, it's not really important but.. its important. You know?"

*

The older woman relaxes a touch more as Jean confirms she's not intruing. She gives another, softer smile, and as she comes near that gentle press of her protective worry almost envelops Jean. It's warm, caring… nothing really selfish in it, but just geniune and ever-present like some warm blanket of emotion. She makes her way a few more steps and settles down into a high backed chair just catty-corner of Jean, close enough that she could lean over and touch the woman, should she need. "Thank you, I didn't want to disturb your work but… I wanted to check in on you."

Then that comment about something important makes her blink. Moira looks genuinely confused, not a single clue as to what could be pressing, but she leans forward in her chair, clearly attentive. "Of…of course. You can talk to me about anything. I know we… really just met, but nothing will leave this room. I'm hoping to be what support around here that, well… I can be. SO, of course… talk to me."

*

The sensation felt odd. Not odd in the sense that it was foreign, but it almost feels as if her empathy was working alongside her telekinetic gift all on it's own. Or maybe it was the memory, the memory of her own mother scratching her nails along Jean's scalp while she lays in bed unable to move. Or a cheek lightly pressing against hers by way of a hug. Her arms slowly bunching as that warm hug is fully realized, along with a tickle of fingers along her back to calm and sooth.

It was strange enough to give Jean pause, her brows furrowing, but.. she doesn't push that sensation away. She allows it. It makes her comfortable. It makes her wish for the real thing but she is too afraid to ask.

"Oh.. I'm fine. I've been fine. Everything is a-okay!" She pips up just for that bit, then slowly tapers down into a more serious tone. "I know I can trust you. I feel that I can. Everyone else trusts you it seems. You don't.. remind me of those other doctors. That look at me like I'm just another broken psycho who they don't want to help. Like they -have- to help or want to find the quickest way possible so they won't get into trouble. You.." She pauses, hesitantly. "..remind me of my mother. The parts that I couldn't see and can't remember anymore." She smiles sadly, but swallows.

"So.. if you were me. And someone asked you to. Would you.. redo them?" Her hand lifts, to lightly tap at her temple.

*

As Jean says she can trust Moira, the woman reaches out, resting just a single hand against Jean's knee in a gentle brush of protective warmth. Just a simple touch to show she means those words, because sometimes touch means so much more than simple statements. It's a basic human need - touch. So, the pad of her thumb idly brushes up and down Jean's knee cap as she listes. "You're not a… broken psycho. Those are awful words. You're someone who was born with other senses and…simply needs to learn how to use them. Well, maybe not simply. I know it seems like an impossible hill to climb some days. But you will get there, and you are in the right place to do so." There comes another, soft squeeze of her fingertips.

Then that question comes about re-doing someone. Moira simply looks confused, "…Redo? What… do you mean redo? I'd do whatever I could to help someone… but I don't know that I understand the question." Her answer is earnest never the less. Moira's goal is, as ever, to help.

*

Moira's words were wise, careful. No one never really expressed the need to learn to control aside from the two 'Professors', Moira and Namor. It was starting to feel like it was a normal thing, something that was welcomed and apart of life. She doesn't coil away from the comforting touch, but she does seem involved in her words, even as she frows a little, her eyes drawing towards the floor with a slight nod of her head.

If she was meant to be frank with Moira, now wasn't the time to mince words. "Redo the way a person thinks. How they feel. What they remember.. most importantly. Like you, I would do whatever if I believed that it helped a person. Especially for the best. Does that make any sense at all?"

Her eyes search Moira's own, there was no indication on if it were a speculation or not.

*

It does seem fully natural to Moira, in truth, but maybe that is part of being a professor — the fact that learning is a life-long process. She breathes in slowly, listening to Jean's explanation about 're-doing', though the thought of it does actually send her eyes a bit wide. It was not a thought that had ever crossed her mind, in truth. She drags in a slow breath through her nose, genuinely considering the possibility.

"…It wasn't something… I've… studied, really. We're barely on the edge of understanding mutations, much less the ethics of using mutations. But… if someone *asked*… I think it would depend on every situation. Sometimes, people ask things out of pain. In knee-jerk reactions to the awful things in life. In grief or shock… I don't think I could ever condone making such a choice unless I was utterly certain the person was in full command of their state of mind and able to make healthy choices."

After her little treatise on her own ethics, talking through her response as she thinks it out, she looks fully back to Jean with now slightly more worried eyes. "…Does that make sense? And… I am curious as to why you asked."

*

Jean was confused for a moment, a moment which causes her to draw back, her elbow planting upon the table as her thumb finds her teeth to chew upon her skin. She was thinking now, it was clear that Bobby was in pain, but it was a pain that he's lived with once he had became aware. At least that, she was sure of. She didn't scan him to figure it out.

Her head shakes briefly, forcing a little smile to her face. "Oh, it makes sense. Yes." She admits, her head nodding briefly. "And.. I was just reading something in one of the books. And.. I wanted your opinion on it." She was a shit liar. Really.

"If.. someone had done that to you, and you found out, would you be upset?"

*

Watching that confusion and the thought across Jean's face, it didn't take a psychic to figure out there was more to this situation than what she is saying. And then the woman straight out lies and Moira's head tilts to the side, a single arch coming to her brow, "… Jean. I might not have your gifts, but I am very good with people. This isn't just about opinions. What is going on? You can tell me about it. Nothing will leave this room, I promise… I won't betray confidence. But these gifts aren't just about learning control. They are about learning… moral, good ways to use them. Which is probably extra hard when you are a young man or woman also just learning how to be a moral, intelligent adult." A faint, understanding smile crosses her lips as she says that. No judgment. Just open understanding.

Then that last question about it being done to her makes her blink. Confusion brushes her pale features, a bit of suspicion as well. "… I… don't think I would ever ask for such a thing to be done. Even with… the worst things I've been through…" Her pale eyes flicker to her leg for a moment and Jean will get a momentary wave of hate and fear. Emotions so uncommon for Moira, but she shakes them off, "I wouldn't strike them from my life. That is living. Both good and bad."

*

"I promised." Jean says quietly, hoping that Moira would let it go. It wasn't a for now situation, according to Bobby, he seemed like he wanted it to be forever. She shakes her head slightly, withdrawing into herself for a tiny bit of a time, feeling that bit of hate. The fear. Something that causes Jean's eyes to snap in the motherly womans direction with a small hint of a shock.

"But.. how would you know? How would you know if something like that happened to you at all?" Jean frowns. "I.. I could tell you all of my secrets and take them away just like that. I could tell you the truth. The honest to god truth.. but.. I guess it's truth that I -feel- based on the people around me." She really wasn't making sense, but she was trying to.

*

"…I…I don't think you'd know. Not really. That's why it's more important and up to the telepath who could do such things to… To only exercise such ability in the most dire and certain of situations." Moira doesn't push the other matter, since Jean promised, she won't harp on it. But, clearly these are separate things. Because Jean is still discussing it and Moira isn't going to shut that door. She's mostly recovered from that momentary memory of the worst things, it was just a brush and is now gone. All her attention is for Jean.

"I… I guess maybe there would be traces. Feelings associated with the person that don't resonate with memories. Maybe deja vu? But maybe not. Maybe you'd never no and…" She looks down for a heartbeat or two, "That's just said. Not to know your truth. Because there *is* truth. Yes, it's all subjective, but there is what actually happened. And we owe it to ourselves to try and honor that as often as possible."

*

There was a slight shake of her head at that, her fingers tensing against her lip which was soon pushed down to fiddle with the book. She almost wanted to get rid of those thoughts, the line of this conversation, to wish that it never happened and to make it so, because what she was about to do was damaging.

"Miss Moira.." She finally murmurs after all, turning to her and reaching out to try to grasp her hands tenderly.

"Ha.. have you felt that? Deja vu? That something was strange and.." She shakes her head, squeezing her hands tighter. ".. familiar? With -anyone-?"

*

The brunette was about to shake her head, but then she pauses. It wasn't true. She has felt that before. She felt it sitting in this very room. Why the mansion feels like home even if she's only begun to visit in the last few weeks. Slowly, the neutral warmth of her features falls away into quiet shock. Her pale eyes flicker around the room, studying it deeper, like she could regain memories by staring harder. She looks like a woman listening to a distant melody, trying to place it, but she can't even make out enough scraps of the song to be certain she's hearing any song at all. Yet, it's still there, so low, in the background.

"…Jean. Why does this school feel… Familiar to me? Charles… Erik… Meeting them again was… like coming home." Her eyes then turn quicker back to the girl, forcing her expression neutral, but her heart is galloping now. There are a thousand emotions warring in the back of her head.

*

If she were a skilled woman, Jean would remove those blocks. If they were even blocks, she'd try to restore something that was lost to her for months, possibly years. But Jean was only going off of feelings, strong feelings. Perhaps glimpses here and there of Moira, a little bit younger, and the three sharing a brief laugh. The stolen looks.. the quiet panic.. the heartbreak..

"I don't know.." She murmurs quietly. "But they know you. Personally." She swallows hard. "And Mr. Charles, he loves you dearly. It's like.. nothing I've ever felt before. And it hurts him. I don't know why. It hurts him so much that sometimes, he's.. removing himself.. inside.. just to be near you, even though a few of those feelings bleed out. And I catch them."

*

The woman's eyes just widen, but it's not necessarily with shock. All of this make sense, even if it doesn't at all. If she can think of no reason to have lost those memories, much less love. It stings her when Jean mentions how much he loved — loves — her. Regret of the last few years flooding in, a different kind of pain. Moira takes a breath, trying to control it. SHe knows strong emotions around the girl cannot be helpful. She drags one tired hand across her face.

"…I don't…understand. I don't know why. I… don't remember anything. I know they felt familiar, this whole place did, but… THere's nothing. And Charles… he acts so strange around me. I figured he simply didn't know how to handle an intelligent woman… But… God. Jean, I… this isn't right." She's all pain and confusion now herself. Not quite betrayal, because she has no clue how or why it was done. "…I wouldn't even ask you to look for the memories. This shouldn't be put on you. I'm sorry you are feeling… these things."

*

Jean slowly releases her hands as soon as she could feel that.. pain. The pain of regret. The pain of everything else in that moment that has her eyes closing and fingers pressing against the right of her temple. Her teeth grit for a moment, her other hand reaching down to grasp upon the elaborate pearl that was gifted to her, focusing on rolling it in between her fingers in a slow motion back and forth..

"I.. don't know either. But they know you. One loves you. The other is sca.. no. I can't understand Mr. Erik. He hurts a little." She sniffs completely, then lets out a soft smile. "I'm sorry too. If.. if someone ever loved me that way, I'd.. I'd want to know. And.." Her smile fades a little. "..I don't know much about love or life, or living in this world but.. I do know that you two deserve happiness. We all do. I.. felt sometimes that it was for the best. The best it's for the best. That's what I hear sometimes too. It's for the best.. the best.. but.. no. Don't feel sorry. Else I wouldn't know how love and loss felt all at once."

But she was a nosy young lady, she kind of wanted to pry.

*

Moira doesn't reach for Jean's hand again as her palm is released. Even if comfort would be nice, part of her knows that touch makes the contract stronger, that this spill of emotions she's trying to fight off, breathe through, to NOT feel will only overwhelm Jean more if the are touching. So, she doesn't reach for touch again. She just remains sitting back, her fingertips now moving to clutch in her lap, holding her palms together to keep them focused and away from the temptation of contact.

She just slowly shakes her head, the confusion growing more as Jean mentions about it being for the best. It didn't make sense. How was it for the best? A brush of anger cuts through the confusion of everything. Moira leans over, resting her elbows on her knees and her folded hands against her lips now. A few breaths through her nose. Calming herself. Finally, she does find words again, "Do you think Charles did it? He has the… strength. Would he make that choice himself?" Moira is too intelligent for her own good sometimes, putting pieces together in a puzzle which is getting more ugly with each piece.

*

The few moments of silence shared between the two women were a godsend. Her fingers pressed into her temple to rub against, imagning herself building a block. A small block, one that would shield her from the emotions and the noise of questions that could possibly come spilling out without guarded reverie. She breathes out, pursing her lips which causes a slight whistle, one that snaps her out of that moment just in time to hear the question.

And slowly, she backs the chair away, the wood scraping across the floor as she rises to a stand. She doesn't touch the books she played with, leaving them there for another session of toying with her gifts. "I don't know." She finally admits, but it was clear that Jean suspects. "I.. guess that's something you should ask him." She smiles tightly. "I should return to the guest room." She hesitates, ready to walk away, but she doesn't. Not just yet.

"I.. remember my father words. After my best friend died. He said.. to not dwell on what could have been or what you could have done. Do not dwell on the change that wasn't meant to happen. It'll hurt more, because.. something." She winces, trying to remember the last parts of his words. But it eludes her. "I.. just.. sleep well, Miss Moira."

*

Moira barely moves from her slightly hunched over position, as if physically curling herself around her own stomach could fight back the emotions she was feeling, could contain them in the smallest place possible and not let out the scream, or anger, or hurt, or hope that she's feeling. So, while she would normally stand, move for a hug, do something to reassure the woman above her, she doesn't now. It'd be too much for both of them. But her blue eyes tilt up, studying Jean quietly, watching her go.

When she doesn't quite leave, Moira's head tilts, but she listens. She tries to take some comfort in the commentary, a weak smile brushing across her lips. "Those are… wise words. but sometimes harder followed than said. I will try, Jean. Thank you for letting me know… truly. I don't know what will come of it. But… thank you." She gives a momentary but genuine smile. "You sleep well also. Sweet dreams." She unlaces her hands long enough that she can give a gentle wave before she sinks back into the chair, drowning in her own thoughts.

*

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