2013.05.25 - Apologies in Central Park

The best time to go to Central Park is just after it's rained. Most folks have fled the raindrops and for a short time after the storms stop, the park is silent, clean, and in this season, green. It's actually Warren's favorite time to go wander about. It helps that his penthouse overlooks the park and he can just fly down from the balcony; it saves a good deal of time.
Having landed by one of the footbridges, he has actually slowly strolled to the center and is leaning against the edge, looking over into the path below. This was the footbridge where he met Fern and his cell phone got smashed. Damned sentimentality.
Jean has her own sentimental streak, though a bridge in Central Park doesn't necessarily trigger it. Still, she's out alone in the park for reasons of her own, dry in spite of the recent rain, thanks to the advantages of being a spectacular TK. She noticed Warren's winging down from his penthouse and... with the flash of a Phoenix-born memory, decided she needs to risk bumping into him. 
Thus, as he stands looking over the pathway, she steps out onto it from beneath the trees and walks slowly towards him. 
Angel's vision is excellent. His other senses are fairly 'normal', but his vision is pretty incredible. Catching movement out of the corner of his eyes, he straightens, his wings flicking once before he turns to fully face the one approaching. Blue eyes just watch her approach in silence for a moment before he offers a simple, "Hello." 
He doesn't look terribly thrilled to see her, however.
"Did I do something wrong that you've come to tell me about?"
Jean actually has the grace to wince at Warren's words. "Hi," she says, now within easy conversational distance with him, though she doesn't go too far into his personal space. "No. No, actually. I've come to apologize." A beat. The redhead offers a rueful, unsettled smile. "If you'll hear it."
Angel inclines his chin some to look down his nose some at Jean. He's still wounded, it seems. "I'll hear it. Whether or not I approve or accept it remains to be seen." His expression is schooled even though he knows that she could easily look right past that.
Jean can't say she's surprised by the response. She can feel the man's hostility and, to some degree, understand it. In many ways, it reflects her own frustration. "I know the last time you and... well... I, I guess, parted it wasn't on friendly terms. I'll be honest, I don't remember everything that was said." If Warren knows anything about Jean, he should know that her telepathy gives her a virtually photographic memory. So gaps in it are very rare. 
"I know, though, it has a lot to do with why we don't see you around any more. And... well, I'm sorry. Those things shouldn't have been said to you. And I want to... try to explain what happened."
There's a moment of silence before Warren offers, "I know that you were...deal with other stuff at the time. I know that you weren't exactly -you-. However, I'm fairly certain that you weren't entirely consumed and what you said to me wasn't coming from nowhere. It was too specific. To personal." His lips press briefly before he adds, "I'm not around much anymore because I'm not needed. I'm there to teach my class and run my seminar, but other than that, you don't need me there. I don't really like feeling that I'm in the way or superfluous. You know that." He always liked getting attention and that hasn't really changed.
Jean gives a wry smile. "None of us like feeling superfluous," she notes. But, yes. He always was an attention hound. "Look, Warren. The only thing I can tell you is that the Phoenix wasn't me. Yeah, it had my memories and a small piece of my consciousness -- enough that I remember... things. Pieces. But, it wasn't me. Not really. It feeds on emotion and it doesn't know how to handle it. Especially fear. I do know how to deal with my fear -- and it's not... by lashing out like that. So, I just want you to know I'm sorry. And that I'd like to see you around more often. I think there are things you can teach the kids that the rest of us can't. You see things differently." 
She shakes her head, now. "The fact is, we need all hands on deck, these days. There are more and more kids coming in and more and more threats coming up against us. Scott's all over the map, I'm still getting my bearings, Nightcrawler's up to his fuzzy ears in God knows what, Ororo's gone and shaved her head, thanks to a stint in a Genoshan prison, and Bobby's hiding.... well, I'm not yet sure what but something that's putting him at risk. We need help, Warren. You're still one of us, as far as I'm concerned, anyway, whatever Phoenix may have made you believe be damned. We do need you." 
Crossing his arms as he listens, Warren just remains still after that. His eyes blink, the feathers of his wings ruffle in the breeze, but otherwise he doesn't move. It's quite possibly something he's learned from all those Big-Wig Business types he's worked with and met over the years. Finally though, he asks, "So this Phoenix not being 'you' is an excuse for saying what you did to me? Jean, in case you don't remember what was said, you told me not to go to the one place. The One. Place. that ever totally accepted me. The One Place where I spent a good deal of my formative years and where I learned that I wasn't the only freak of nature in the world. Can you even fathom how that made me feel? Do you want me to let you into my head and show you?"
As she mentions needing him, he tilts his head to the side some, "I don't think that you do. You want to know what I was told I could teach those kids? How to dress, how to balance a bank account, and that they need to pay off their credit cards in a timely manner. Are the students of the Xavier Institute having financial crises?"
Jean presses a pair of fingers to an eyebrow at his words, wincing. "Would you like me to share my memories with you, Warren?" she counters. "I was wrapped in a cocoon at the bottom of fifty tons of water while my friends went one with their lives -- while some alien life force went on with mine. Yeah. Believe it or not, I think I get it! Because the Xaviers I've come back to? Not the one I left. Not the one where I felt like I finally belonged." She doesn't intimidate easily. She's stood in front of too many review boards for a little corporate maneuvering to throw her off. But, his pain... Yes. She feels it, and it's reflected in her face. 
"But you're Jean Grey. THE Jean Grey. You'll always belong there because of who you are and what you can do. We know that you can pretty much make everyone there do whatever you want so why would they even think of trying to dismiss you? You are dangerous." There's a humorless bit of a smile then as Warren uncrosses his arms, "I, however, am not. Unless you're allergic to feathers."
"You're an X-Man," Jean retorts, snirking at his self-deprecation. "You've had the same training as the rest of us. That makes you dangerous, too. And it makes you something those kids can look up to." She throws up her hands, now. "But, hey, if you don't want to see that, that's fine. I won't actually force you to change your mind. You're free to think whatever you want to think, and I won't stop you." She gestures sharply towards the building from which he sailed down. "Go on back to your penthouse roost and hide and brood. You and Scott, you're a matched pair for that, aren't you? Easier to go and sulk than it is to go after what you really want." She's not talking about mutant rights, here, either. "Fine. Whatever. I'm telling you, if you want a place at Xaviers, it's there waiting for you. Take it or don't. It's not on my head any more. I've apologized. I'm sorry. I truly am. I don't expect it to get better overnight. I get it. You're still hurting. Okay. The offer stands. Make of it what you will."
"And what is it I really want, Jean? You're the mind-reader. What is it that I want that I can actually get by going to the Institute? By doing what there? I don't have a teaching certificate...I don't really want one. I don't need to be 'Professor Worthington'." Warren shakes his head, "Do you really think that this is sulking and running away to avoid something? All right, yes. I'm avoiding feeling like a fool. I'm avoiding feelingg unnecessary. Is that so wrong then? You all say that you want me there, but for what? Cheerleading?"
Jean closes her eyes for a moment and tries to count to ten. She doesn't make it much past three. "You know what, Warren?" she says, putting a sharp smile on her lips. "You always sucked as a cheerleader. And, you want to know the truth? I don't really care if you take up a permanent position at the institute or not. What I'm telling you is that the doors are open and you don't need to avoid the place because some flame-haired bitch told you to go away. What? Did she put some sort of compulsion on you I'm not aware of so you're suddenly doing what she or anyone else tells you to? I don't remember you ever being a yes-man, Warren." 
She snirks again, her frustration showing, flame in her eyes. "You know what I think you want? I'll tell you: I think you want to fly. I don't think you want to be in your father's boardroom any more than you want to be in the Professor's classroom. You never did. You were always taking to the sky whenever you could, no matter what anyone else said. And you what else? I always envied you -- that fact that you could." 
She spreads her arms and her body lifts off the rain-soaked pavement. There is, despite everything, a hint of the flame aura around her body as she does. It's inevitable. The Phoenix is tied to her, now, even if she is no longer possessed by or of the Entity. "There was a time I couldn't do this. There was a time all my powers were bound just like your wings. But you could take off your straps and fly. You're not powerless, Warren. But, you sure sound like you are. If that's your choice, fine. But, you can't blame me for that."
As Jean lifts off the ground, Warren gestures to that, "See? That's exactly what I mean. Maybe I haven't been expressing it clearly, but I'm no longer the only one who can fly. I'm not needed to be 'the one who flies' there now. I'm not the only one who can give air support." He's obviously not thrilled at some of her other words, but this he can address as it illustrates his point perfectly. "I'm not blaming you for that...that now you and others can fly. It was bound to happen. Just the fact that it was happening and then..." But they've been over this.
Lowering his hand, Warren then shakes his head, "Look. I don't like being somewhere just to be there. I have to be ornamental enough between my job and my family committments. What being an X-Man gave me was incredible but I understand if that's not needed anymore." There's a brief pursing of his lips, "I know that sounds sulky...maybe it is, some, but..." there's a pregnant pause, "...I don't like being reminded that I'm obsolete."
Jean's own ire relents and she floats gently back down to earth, with a soft sigh. "Warren, you're only obsolete if you let yourself become so. We're mutants. Change is in our blood -- quite literally. I should know." She's mapped half the mutant genome personally, after all. "Reinvent yourself. Find a new way to fight, to respond, to grow. If you don't, you'll never truly be happy." Again, though, that's out of her hands. 
She risks reaching out to touch his arm, now, half expecting him to flinch away. "I know nothing I say or do will truly make you happy. Or make up for the things I or the Phoenix may or may not have said in the past. There's to much water under the bridge, for that. But... seriously. Find something that does, okay?" She offers a small smile. "For your own sake."
He doesn't flinch at the touch. He's not that angry now, especially after she sought him out to have this discussion. "I tried. I thought that by coming clean about being a mutant might do something. It didn't. Maybe that's a good thing that it didn't...that I can walk down the street and just get a few stares, but people really just care more about who I'm dating or what clubs I'm going to than the fact that I have giant wings and fly about the city. I guess it means that people don't care as much about the mutant issue than we originally may have thought. Sucks for that idea, doesn't it." 
Warren looks to the hand on his arm, "What might make me happy isn't going to be useful to anyone or anything. I don't need to be just another Trust Fund kid who spends his money and gets into trouble...not that it would make me happy. I'd like to try and make some sort of impact with what I've been given in my life. Whether or not that 'truly makes me happy' is moot."
"Warren..." Jean says, her head canting to one side, "there are lots of ways to do that -- with or without your money. Maybe you don't get stared at the way someone like Kurt or Mercury do. But, trust me. I hear the thoughts in people's heads every day when they're confronted with a mutant whose mutation isn't as beautiful as yours. You call yourself Angel, and people will believe it because you're strong, tall, and handsome. It doesn't mean people don't care about the mutant issue. It means people like you and I are lucky to escape their notice." Most of the time, anyway. "Regardless, what I'm hearing, standing here, is that what will make you happy is making a difference. That doesn't surprise me at all. That's why I wanted to invite you back to the X-Men. But, ultimately, it's up to you to decide just what the difference is you want to make is. And that's okay. Just make sure you find somethting and then go out and do it, okay?"
"The name was better than 'Bird-Man'," Warren points out. He blinks a couple of times at Jean, "I was recently kidnapped, caged, and then put on display like something in a zoo. Were you aware of that?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, "I didn't think so." There's a wry sort of smile then, "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but...what would I do back with the X-Men? I can't even sit in the seats to fly the jet..." which is probaby why he never really learned. "Yes, I want to make a difference, but I don't quite know how that would happen going back there. I'm open to ideas, but the only things I've gotten are to teach kids how to dress well for job interviews and how not to throw away their money. Kurt even has his own keys to my boat there."
Jean laughs lightly, if a little dryly. "Last I heard, Kurt bought his own boat. Don't ask me where he got the money. I haven't peeked to find out." She gives a small shrug, her hand having fallen away from him during his words. "If you don't want to come back to the X-Men, Warren," she says quietly, "I won't chase you. It's okay. I just wanted you to know the option is there. It's up to you what you do." 
"I'm sorry to hear you were captured. I didn't find out about any of that until well after it had happened." Seems like everyone's getting captured or kidnapped these days. They're going to have to be more vigilant. But, to be fair, he was the one that said he doesn't get stared at on the streets as much as expected. So, her point still stands.
"If I think of something... something you might try, I'll let you know." But, the way she sees it, the ball's really in his court. She's been gone too long to really say she knows any of her friends, any more. It is what it is.
Angel's humor fades when he hears that Kurt bought his own boat. "Oh. I...didn't know that." And here he was considering Kurt one of his closest friends. It might not even take a telepath to realize that hurt him too. "I'll...make arrangements to have my boat moved then. The lake really can't handle two of them. It's not big enough. I should really keep it at the Hamptons anyhow." He's trying to hide that hurt behind his 'business' mask but it doesn't stay on for very long.
"Why should I come back, Jean? People who I thought were friends...apparently aren't. Why should I go where I'm not really wanted? Where I'm 'out of sight' and thus 'out of mind', it seems? Even people I -thought- were my friends..." he shakes his head then. "I have to deal with two-faced, fake people all the time outside of the Institute. Why would I want to go back and deal with it there now too?"
Jean frowns. "Don't move your boat, Warren," she tells him. "Not unless you want to. If you're going to use it in the Hamptons, fine, but otherwise? Well, it's up to you, but Kurt keeps his at the marina. God knows I haven't seen it, either." She grimaces. "I'm sorry. I guess I just put my foot in that one." Even mind readers make mistakes... especially when they're not reading minds. 
"Look," she sighs, too tired of fighting to raise any more ire. "I'm a mind-reader. This is true. However, I've been trying really, really hard not to read people's minds. It's rude. But, here's what I can tell you. Most of the other people at the mansion -- the Professor, myself, and... Nate, aside --" she emphasizes his name simply because his existence still unsettles her, "can't read minds. At all. Hell, most hardly know their own minds, never mind anyone else's. And most of them are fighting their own battles that even I can only guess at." Mainly because she's not reading minds. It's a circular argument, she knows. "The point is: before you go jumping to conclusions about what your friends think or don't think about you, why don't you ask them outright? Instead of getting all jealous or hurt at Kurt for getting his own boat, why don't you invite him over for dinner? Or beers? Or something. Hang out with him. Talk to him. I don't know what's going on with him. These days, he's hardly at the mansion any more than you are." 
She runs her hand through her hair and shakes her head. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd swear there was an evil telepath out there trying to turn us all against each other by cutting off our ties with each other all because we've forgotten how to talk." She pauses. And, for just a moment, wonders if maybe that's true... 
Nah. The individuals that make up the X-Men have always been pigheaded and stubborn with each other. It's part of their... charm.
"I'll move it," Warren offers quietly, "I only kept it there for Kurt...and now he has his own." He takes a moment to compose some thoughts before he looks up and over at Jean, "It was easier when there was just five of us. The more there are...the worse the communication is going to be. That's just the way of the world. Too many cooks and all that. But when there was just five of us, we all had our jobs. We knew what we should be doing within the group. Now...some of us no longer have those jobs. Other people are doing them. Not everyone gets to keep their job forever."
As far as talking to Kurt, he shrugs, "I don't know. I don't necessarily feel that I should always have to confront people I thought were my friends to find out why they are no longer treating me as a friend. It's not a very fun thing to do, finding out that you're being tossed over for something newer and shinier." There's another pause, "I appreciate you trying. I just...I'm tired of being accused of being whiny or sulking because I try to get involved."
Jean regards him for a long moment. "So, don't confront him," she says with a shrug. "Just hang out with him and be friends. The rest... well, who knows, right? It might take care of itself." She can dream.
Perhaps Jean hasn't always been the optimist of the group. But, lately... well, it's how she's coping. She's just choosing to fiercely believe that the future won't be as horrible as everything she's seen lately suggest it will be. 
She smiles, now, and inhales a deep breath, tasting the dampness of the park after the rain. "I should probably let you get back to whatever you were doing. I'm sorry if all I've done is made things worse for you. I didn't mean to... Really." 
"Jean, I'm so tired of finding out that the people I was closest to for how many years really don't give a crap about me," Warren finally offers. "I'm so tired of trying. I am so tired of being let down by people I felt so close to. People I let in. And I'm so tired of being made to feel like crap because I get defensive when I'm let down." Warren doesn't smile back. In fact, there's more of a frown, "I'm so tired of being the punching bag. When you hang around with shallow people, you know that they won't disappoint you. You know exactly what they're after and what they want out of you. But dare to open up, even a little, and people will just walk all over you and laugh while they're doing it." It might be about a bit more than just the X-Men at this point.
"I wasn't doing anything. Just...remembering, which probably isn't good for me to do. I just wanted to do it while the park was mostly empty."
And the chances are Jean senses it may be about more than just the X-Men. She looks about at the bridge and the park, senses the turmoil rolling off of him and lets out a soft breath. "I wish I had a good answer for you, Warren," she says genuinely, now. "I really do. I know just how shallow people can be. I can tell you, because I've seen it in their thoughts as they pass me on the street or in the corridors of the school; I know that, ultimately, almost every person on this planet -- human, mutant, or otherwise -- is focussed on themselves: their own betterment, their own lives. Even you. Even me. And, I'd be lying if I said I thought that would ever really change." 
"What I do know, though, is that most of the selfish, petty people I meet are capable of acts of tremendous courage, self-sacrifice, self-denial, and compassion towards other people. People they love, and people they don't know at all. So, I know that people can surprise you, if give half a chance. Yes, they'll hurt you, and they'll disappoint you, too. And you know what? You'll do the same to them. It doesn't make them bad people any more than it makes you a bad person. It doesn't mean they don't care. It means they're human. And you and I both know, being human isn't truly about what genes you carry. We're human, too..." 
She lets out another soft breath. "I'm preaching. I'm sorry. I've been spending too much time with Liam, lately." Her brother. The one in seminary. "I don't know who hurt you, so badly, most recently -- but, I'm betting it's not Kurt, or even me. I'm sorry they did. But, I gotta tell you, Warren. Despite our differences, I think you're worth fighting for. So, um... Unless you run me off... I'll see you again, okay?"
"I think you're the only one who thinks so right now, but thank you, Jean. I appreciate you saying that." Warren steps back though, giving her space to leave. "You know where I am and I'll still come by the school for my classes as long as kids still want to come to them. I'll be there to supervise moving my boat, too. I'll let you all know when that will be." If anyone cares to see him then, of course.
"If you need me for anything, you know I'll be there to help in a heartbeat. I just can't hang out there and wait to be needed." There's another pause as he shifts his weight briefly, "Thank you for seeking me out and for the apology. It's...accepted." There's another pause but he decides against saying what popped into his head. "I'm sorry if I was sulky. I'm trying."
Jean smiles, now. And, maybe it seems like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders with his acceptance. And she doesn't pry into his unspoken thought. Instead, she reaches briefly for his hand. "It's okay," she assures him. "We're good now. I'll see you around." She gives his hand a light squeeze and lets it go. "So, don't be a stranger." Her green eyes sparkle just a little and she turns to head back down the path the way she came, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more.
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