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It's been a long day of work for Gabriel, a good shift at the construction site has left him rather tired and spent. But there was a pre-arranged dinner that he was looking forward to, catching up with a friend he had not had a chance to see or speak to in some time. Entering into the cafe, a place called Monk's. Stepping aside, he avoids the group exiting, some crazy haired man, a chubby bald man, a rather loud woman and some guy making odd quips. Offering a polite nod, Gabriel heads to the booth they just vacated and slides in comfortably to await the arrival of his friend, pulling a menu to start looking it over.
*
What exactly does Scarlett do? As a student at Columbia, she seems to spend more time off campus than on. Nonetheless, her assignments are done, frequently not on the grounds of the prestigious Upper West Side university. She glides into the cafe about four minutes after Gabriel does, almost instantly recognizable for wearing a short minidress patterned rather like a sari, black ribbons bound over her upper arms to prevent the sleeves from spilling after her like a flag. It pays homage to something or someone, at least. Turning sideways to squeeze past two people loitering in the foyer, she tells the hostess at the wooden station, "I'm here to meet someone, thank you!" And thus, that long-legged glide puts her directly on a course for the booth in question. Slinging her book bag down to one hand, she places her palm on the table and bestows one of those radiant smiles down on Gabriel. "Hello, stranger. Have you been waiting terribly long?" The books end up shoved to the other end of the booth, and she drops in.
*
"No, only a few minutes ago." He's waiting for his ordered tea that he got, not hot but an iced tea which already has him pulling some sugar from the container. "Not long at all. I'm glad you were able to get together. I haven't seen you since…" He trails off. Since they were taken by the bounty hunters, since she; his friend, was taken all because of him. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you about how you were doing after all that. I've been avoiding a lot of people. Guilt I imagine."
*
Plucking the napkin from the table, Scarlett dusts it across her lap to protect the ephemeral fabric from any possible spills. "Oh, lovely. I shouldn't be too late to put in an order. Lemonade, I think." The wide brim of her beloved Derby-worth hat tilts back with a nudge to the brim, and the usual braids bear a trellis of dahlias tucked into them. Gloved hands clasped on the table, she smiles at Gabriel. "Too long. I think we all ended up a little preoccupied in our own thoughts. How are you and Jean?" Coping might be added to the sentence; she doesn't say it. Those wide green eyes track every move and impression of his expression with a knowing clarity. "I do not hold what happened against you. Truth be told, I've always wanted to see the stars. Not quite like that, but nonetheless, I would not renounce the experience if I had the choice. I'm sorry that you both endured so much." The torments to her and Pietro… less easily measured.
*
Gabriel is quiet for a moment before he sips his tea, contemplating it for awhile and then speaking softly. "We are… struggling a bit to be honest. I think we're both uncertain to fully share what happened. How things changed." Gabriel looks at Rogue and his voice lowers. "I remember. A lot more than I used to. Not everything but quite a bit more. It is why I've been trying to focus on, well focus on normal. Being a normal person. Working at the construction site, the apartment and doing laundry and dishes, learning to cook. I need to feel normal." He sighs, then looks up as the waitress arrives. "I'll have a big salad please," a pause, "Big."
*
When the waitress makes an appearance, the request for a big salad is matched by a flick of her fingers to two, not entirely rude. "Another, please. Any dressing on the side." Let the chef figure out what kind of 'big' salad a yoga maestra and construction worker might prefer. Chances are good hers will be half the size of Gabe's. "Maintaining a normal routine and purpose in life matters. You know, the more people I meet, those who seem best adjusted."
*
Gabriel chuckles but shakes his head. "Scarlett. It's a sham though. A normal life, for me… for her, for us. You know full well it's a sham. The degree probably not but…" The man bites his lower lip, his voice softening. "You know what Jean is capable of. What's within her. Well, that part of her is afraid of what I am capable of and I know why now. I'm starting to see. I think the struggle, and I can't talk to her about this really, the struggle is what do I do?"
*
"Normalcy is what we define it to be. None of us stands to be white picket fence, two children, and a dog, unless we happen to have Kerberos," points out the redhead. Her mouth curves deeper into a smile, and she pauses when her lemonade is brought. She takes the glass and pulls it towards her, a straw dropped among the ice cubes. "I do not have every answer you might want, Gabriel. Here is what I can recommend, based on experience. One, confide in the professor. Charles has a deep capacity for empathy and understanding exceeding most of our own. Sometimes, yes, I daresay his positive outlook is unbearably bright even for me." There, the sunshine girl said it. "Two, do not keep this to yourself. Find a confidante otherwise. I certainly harbour no ambitions against you or her, whom I love as a sister, even when subjected by the bird to rather interesting mental exercises." Scarlett and psychological torture have a tormented history, one defined by their broken and cracked sides. "Why is that side frightened of you? Is it that you can reach out and take it away from her, or that she has a stake in being her, not subjected to it? Is there something wrong about taking it one step at a time, and discovering how you can maintain a connection to Jean? I might be missing a layer or two here." It's an open invitation.
*
"She is afraid of me, I believe, because I can destroy her." Gabriel admits softly, almost sadly. "The whole reason I was taken, the reason you all were taken, is because I am wanted as a weapon. Was turned into one, I'm not sure how I ended up here honestly, but they want me back. Some of those memories have been coming back to me ever since we were in that prison ship." He trails off after a moment, looking up as the salad arrives and nodding his head politely to the server, starting to eat quietly. "How do I confide in someone I don't know, much less don't trust? The number of people I can trust is so small. I'm always afraid that whoever I encounter, that I open to, will see me for what I am and either try to use me to some end or destroy me."
*
She listens, the lessons of silence very well learned. Experience gives her a boost on one, and the murmurs in the psychic prison of the bohemienne's mind caution lasting quiescence. Thus has Gabriel a forum uninterrupted, and the redhead continues with her meal preparations. A bit of oil sprinkled over the bed of lettuce leaves the vegetables glistening, and she holds his gaze. If encouragement is needed in that brief silence, he may have it in that she is utterly unrushed. The cafe continues to thrive around them, people coming and going, just a natural flood of souls. "How would you respond if Jean said the same? If she was afraid that you would see her as she was, and despise that, or feel tempted to use it?" Her words are soft and conversational, not much to interest eavesdroppers. Animation and gestures help maintain that. "It's common to hold ourselves to impossible standards, but of course never hold our friends, loved ones, and acquaintances to the same. If you look in the mirror and see a monster, but would recoil if a friend did that, it's possibly a good sign that you are using an unfair standard. Could it be you're protecting yourself against the very best remedy and pushing away support who might stand by your shoulder when some punks come sailing across the sky to take you? You'd be surprised how many of us are inclined to say no on principle. Then those who actually have personal connections? Why, you might even convince me to kick someone."
*
"It's easy to say. But have you ever had the person you love look at you with abject horror, fear and disgust?" Gabriel says quietly around the salad, eyes looking down. "Because I have, many times. Even Jean has. When she first began to discover. How do you look at someone the same way knowing that they killed thousands, tens of thousands, in the time it takes for you to finish that bite of food and swallow it?" A swallow, somber fills his throat. "Even if against my will, it was still me. And it is only the surface. My memories were erased Scarlett to protect everyone from what I am. I do not want to run, but if I do it keeps others safe. This is my struggle. This is what I cannot cope with. I know what is best, but it is not what I want."
*
The young woman smiles faintly, though no warmth lies in those verdant eyes, flames gutted and leaving the hollow shell of the nebula-green plasma behind. Suns when they die are often violent, the gaping void in the cosmos they occupied all the more profound. "I have only fragmented memories of my past, Gabriel. I choose not to speak about it often." Almost never. Walking amnesiacs are common enough in the Institute, Mutant Town, every corner of the city. "I cannot speak with certainty, but someone I cared for deeply is as good as dead. And will always be. I have some memory of the look. A few brief moments. No more. And anyone who knows what I am runs the risk. After all, some have the power to bring fire to humanity and I steal their soul." Lay it out on the table, then. She spears a fork full of her salad, contemplating him from across the table. "You know what defines much? Intent. Do you want to do that now? If you do not wish to harm people now, you can't be held accountable for past actions."
*
"Sure I can. Be held accountable that is. Isn't that exactly what the purpose of laws and the like are? I'm not …" Gabriel sighs, leans back for a moment and rubs his temple. "I haven't talked to Jean about what I saw, what was shown to me in those Dreamscapes.. which is what they're called. I've seen what I could be and I won't be that. Which means I have to be held to account Scarlett."
*
"Let me try another way, Gabriel. The man you were many years ago, you were then," Scarlett murmurs, thoughtful on her words. "You may have committed acts of atrocity you may regret now. The rite of passage, realising the effects of your actions, is one of the more unkind initiations into adulthood. And it happens as we learn more about the world and the consequences of our actions. Can you assume something you committed under the control of another prohibits you from being happy now? From choosing the right course?" Her fork lies among the salad, forgotten for the time being. "You can be held accountable in the sense that, yes, you mustn't repeat the things that caused grief, pain or harm. There is a reason I choose a path of nonviolence when I can. Because I hurt people. You choose to stay here and do the best you can for the people you cherish, that is a respectable course that shows you have learned and grown from the errors in the past. None of us is perfect, not a one. We're all flawed. We make choices that hurt others. The difference is how you act now, what you do. We're saying the same thing, I suspect. Learn from the past. Be better. Charles has an infinitely better way of expressing all this than I do, but the sentiments are the same. Forgiveness, acceptance, and changing a pattern through learning and effort are all steps on the same path to enlightenment. So says my guru, anyways." A wink, then.
*
Gabriel eats and listens while she speaks, contemplating before he stops and sets his fork aside as well. "She wants me to join her, to help her help people. And while I do not oppose doing that… it's also one of these things of should I?" He shrugs his shoulders a bit and wonders out loud more than anything. "I am not a scalpel. I am a sledgehammer. But…" He trails, eyes lifting. "But I love her completely. How do you express that to someone? That you love them completely, that you're willing to be something you're not ready for, because they need you to be?"
*
The question calls for lemonade. A lot of lemonade, and the same grappling with titanic philosophies that have scorched her heart, destroyed her, and allowed her to rise anew. "If not you, then whom? Are you going to be happy on the sidelines watching her try so hard, and will you be able to offer her advice when she needs to hear it? Not all ideas are the best ones, and trusted advisors do serve that kind of role. Equally it helps that you might be able to staunch trouble before the other side gets involved." Another sip and Scarlett curls her fingers around the straw, idly turning it. "You tell someone you love them frequently. You show them by demonstrative actions. Standing by her side, listening to her, being shelter when she is doubtful, sharing in your joys, telling her your doubts. Love isn't all Roses and rainbows, but a partnership and willingness to express your dreams, doubts, goals, and hopes within the space of your relationship. You don't require beautiful poetry to make it honest. Tell her what you are afraid of. That you will try. That is so much what life is, what love is. You admit to her what you said to me and go from there. If it fails spectacularly, you can come yell at me. I doubt it will. Her heart is true. "
*
"I doubt I'd yell. I'm not really a yeller." Gabriel admits with a soft chuckle, toying with the last remnants of his salad. "I don't think she should do what she wants to. Not alone. But do I have the right to offer my thoughts when I do not walk the same path, carry the same burdens?" He shakes his head a bit and sighs further. "It is complicated. What of you? Do you have the same complications?" He glances up, smirking a bit, "Finding and understanding love?"
*
"Such is the burden." Scarlett pauses, her gloved hand extended, a bit cool from the glass. "I promise everyone else has the same difficulties figuring out such matters. In this we are all human. You have the right to speak, and she will tell you if you cross a line she is uncomfortable with. Another of those growing pains, you know? We all need someone to be our sounding board, our support, and the voice of wisdom and conscience when our path is not a good one. Or a decision is outright terrible, like 'let me see how much I can drink' or 'can I push myself to fly to Siberia over the pole at night.'" Mirth flickers through her words, a firebath elevating every sound on a buoyant sheen of her golden soprano. "It is complicated. I found love and lost it, something about a terrestrial traitor and such. And found it. Felled by the scythe blow, raised on that slightest breeze, and left utterly aching this very moment in the absence of its source. It's uncomplicated. It is primal, enlightened, glorious, impossible. And I have to be patient to see if it's mutual."
*
Gabe glances at the woman, tilting his head with a look that is very deeply rooted in confusion. A poet he is not, since English is well formed his second language. "I guess I was asking if you are happy."
*
The softness of the laughter from her lips is gentle. "Yes. More than I've ever remembered being, I think. Though I do need to reconnect with the other students more. They seem…" Her hand sways slightly. "You and I and Jean have a different perspective."
*
"I don't fit in there… with the rest. At least I don't feel such. I don't want to … I'm ok being different." Gabriel waffles back and forth before he reaches to his pocket and produces some bills to cover both of their orders and leaving it on the table. "Thank you Scarlett, for sitting with me. I just need someone to talk to."
*
There's a song lyric for this: "Whenever you need me, I'll be there. And I know. The school is something very different, and I think I am drifting to a different echelon. Visit a few different worlds and suddenly it looks very different. Will you let Jean know I'd love to chat about whatever holds her nowadays?" Scarlett scoops her arm around the strap of her bag and pulls it closer, clearly prepared to take her leave. "Someone has to admire you two in flight, after all." A grin flashes, and then she glances at her concealed books. "Better than trying to chart the outcome of western civilization."
*
The second part has him completely baffled, western civilization? Gabriel however is polite enough to nod to her and then moves to depart as well. "I'll let her know."
*