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=XS= The Xavier Woods - Xavier's School
Into the woods. Wesley's wandered off the beaten path, farther than he's ever gone at least. It's chilly out; his coat is zipped high. There's the occasional echo of a rock bouncing off a tree trunk, but otherwise he walks along in silence.
A search of the mansion with all its hidden rooms and secret tunnels has unearthed nothing. A search of the grounds immediately around the school, the same. It is a trip down to the comsys room that reveals that Wesley has ventured into the woods rather than attempting to escape the bounds of the school altogether and so Piotr follows him in. Though he is some way behind, the woods are familiar territory to him and he does, slowly, catch up with his mark. He makes more noise as Wesley comes into view, giving him plenty of opportunity to realise he is being followed and send his pursuer away.
Wesley is oblivious for probably longer than is safe, caught up in his own little world of rocks, trees and memories. Still, the sounds of a couple hundred pound plus russian eventually break through, and he glances over his shoulder, catching sight of the man. He looks long enough to be seen doing so, slows his pace a bit but doesn't say anything.
Piotr, in turn, speeds up just a little, picking his way though the foliage with practised ease and the considerable advantage of long limbs. As he comes up closer to Wesley, he pushes his hands into his pockets to leave his posture companionable and open and falls into step with the younger man, glancing briefly at him before turning his attention back ahead of him. "How are you doing?" he asks.
Wesley snorts at the question. "Well, despite the fact that I beat up my roommate, blew up my apartment, cheated on my girlfriend and made a complete idiot of myself in front of Jean..." he trails off, a faint "I'm just great," concluding the thought.
A nod of his dark head and a press of his lips together into a vaguely sympathetic line marks Piotr's understanding, quiet but complete. He does not say anything, simply walking on and allowing Wesley the opportunity to speak without prompting if there is something he needs to say.
Wesley doesn't say anything for some time, just crunching along through the leaves and occasional patch of snow still not quite melted away. "Did you..." he finally starts, hesitant, "Did you have any trouble...sorting through what was you and what was...not?"
There is a moment of tentative thought, and then Piotr drops his head in a slow nod. "Yes," he says, despite the complete inaccuracy of this statement. "I am still not completely certain of when it began. As far as I can remember, I started acting strangely about a week after I met the telepath, but perhaps I was before and simply did not notice. You feel as if you do not quite know who you are?"
"I feel...It felt...good," Wesley's last word is barely audible, and he doesn't continue until several paces later. "I mean, not the last few days, but before. It was like I could do /anything/. It was nice to be the guy that gets the girl's number, not just makes her laugh. Gawd, I've got to have forty numbers on my dresser. But no, I don't know when it started. After I took my tests. Maybe before. Maybe it wasn't even /me/ that passed everything."
"You would not have passed in any case if you had not been capable of doing this on your own," Piotr assures his friend, this much at least something he is sure of. "But..." he trails off, his lips pulling sideways into a tiny shrug as something of a pensive look crosses his expression. "Well, perhaps... perhaps you can even gain something from this, then."
Wesley snorts derisively. "I've screwed up with Bobby, Jubilee, Rogue. Insulted them. Pushed them away. /Punched/ them. /Touched/...I acted like a total jerk. I've lost like everyone that's important to me. I'll /never/ be able to look Jean in the eye again. What could I possibly gain from this?"
Piotr gives an allowing tilt of his head, eyes closing in brief apology for the timing of the suggestion, if not the words themselves. "I attacked Scott," he says tone measured and quiet. "I would have killed him if he had not been able to stop me. You know what I tried to do to Jubilee. I did not lose either of them as friends, not forever. It may take time for things to mend, but you have not lost them."
"I...don't even know what to say to her," Wesley mutters, reaching down to dig a rock out of the mud and hurl it at a nearby tree with a satisfying thunk. "'I know I was a jerk. I said stuff, I tried stuff, but hey, it's worse than you know. I was cheating on you the whole time too'? Yeah, that'll go over real well."
A frown, dark and uncomfortable, pulls Piotr's brows down in thought and he turns to watch the stone's flight, pursing his lips before beginning to speak. "Do not try to be too blunt for honesty's sake," he advises with heartfelt severity. "It is kinder to her if you try to break it to her gently. If you tell her-- If you tell her that you still care about her. If you do." Those last three words hold a hint of a question, former severity returned.
"I don't know!" Wesley says, his voice echoing off the trees. "I feel like I can't...trust anything I'm thinking or feeling. If it's me...or not me."
It takes a moment for Piotr to answer, and when he does it is quiet. "What you think now, what you feel now, that is you," he says, a tone of apology laid heavily over the words. "Perhaps you are not the same person you were before."
"Confused and selfloathing," Wesley says, wiping a bit of mud off on his jeans. "If I'm not the person I was last week, and not the person I was last year..." he breaks off that line of thought, stopping in his steps and turning to look at Peter. "I didn't understand why you tried...with Rogue. What could be that bad that you'd want to...give up. I do now. It's just such a long road back to...someplace I'm not sure I can even get."
"Do not try that, Wesley," Piotr says, his tone one of simple advice, closer to an instruction than a request or a plea. "That was perhaps the greatest mistake of my life that I cannot attribute to anyone but myself. You are not so lost that you cannot be found, I promise you, and we will help you. /I/ will help you, however I can."
"Eh, don't worry about that," Wesley shrugs. "I don't think I'd have the guts to go through with it. I just wish there was some way to not have to deal with everything. Not have to face everyone. Maybe I'll run away and join the army."
"It would be a waste," Piotr comments mildly, turning to look more fully at Wesley, "and I think that, in the end, staying away forever might be more difficult than facing it now. You have the strength and the courage to get through this."
"A week ago, I would have agreed," Wesley sighs slowly. He stamps his feet a bit at the cool air. "I guess we'll find out, huh?"
Piotr gives a simple nod, his lips pulling into something that hints at a smile, rueful and laden with pity and sympathy, but at the same time quietly trusting. "We will find out."
"Yeah, well, not all of us have quite as much meat on our bones," Wesley says, looking away from the sympathy in the direction of the mansion, "And I'm cold. So what say we head back?"
"That sounds like a good idea," Piotr agrees with a quirk of amusement at Wesley's choice of words and nod in a slightly different direction to tell him, "There is an easier way back than the way you came."
"I'll follow you then," Wesley nods, already starting to sink back into Deep Thought.
Pete hunts Wesley down. And is much more accepting and encouraging than Wesley was a few months back.
=XS= Back Patio and Swimming Pool - Xavier's School
Wesley isn't swimming, despite the brief bit of warmth, but he has pushed the pool cover back enough to stick his feet in, perched on the side, water up to mid calf. A pair of sneakers and socks are discarded nearby, without much concern to a couple puddles that have pooled up along the edges.
Letting herself out of the kitchen, a large glass of milk and her sketchbook in hand, Sophie quietly heads towards the hammock. Spotting Wesley she slows, trying to remain unseen - although the press of unhappyness flowing from her makes stealth quite impossible.
Well, Wesley's mood is already pretty bad, so sinking a bit further isn't obviously noticable. He does glance up, though, as something catches the corner of his vision, and he squints. "I know you. Don't I?"
"You..." Sophie blurts. The glass of milk drops from her hand, smashing on the Patio floor. Depression fades - dragged under in a flare of confusion, followed by the beginnings of guilt.
"Oh, geez," Wesley says, leaping up from the edge of the pool, water running down his legs. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." He hurries cross the patio to help. "Careful of the glass," he warns, oblivious to his own bare feet.
"Glass?" Sophie murmurs. "I don't know what you're talking about, is there a fire? I mean you're a fireman right?"
"I...well, eventually," Wesley nods, stopping out of range of the glass. "Went to school here, though. Still come by. It's a good place to...think. I'm Wes. Sorry, I know we've met, but I can't remember your name," he says, apologetically.
Sophie shrugs, taking a step backwards. "Sophie," she replies. "My name I mean, you come back to your old school to sit by the pool?"
"Well, good to meet you again. Come here to hang out with people. When I need to get away from the city." Wesley drops to his knees, reaching for the glass pieces, glad for the excuse to study the ground. "I...didn't do anything...weird when we met, did I?"
Sophie shakes her head. "Why would you think you did?" she asks cautiously. "I mean all we did was chat about stuff, just a random thing."
"I...no reason," he shakes his head, reaching for another glass shard. "That's good. I mean...sorry, I'm not making any sense, I guess. "Just not really been myself lately. Pissed a lot of people off," he says, by way of vague explanation."
The sense of guilt radiating from Sophie begins to grow. "Well, I'm sure it wasn't your fault right?"
Wesley shrugs, collecting the last of the pieces and standing, still not looking at her. "No, it kinda was. I just...didn't realize it." His own guilt is there to match hers, try as he might to not recall the specifics.
"You shouldn't feel bad about it," Sophie says quietly. Barely controlled empathy pulls at the guilt, adding it to her own before radiating it stronger than ever. "It's all my fault, if you'd never met me you'd be fine."
Wesley dumps the shards in a can, setting the lid back down with a thud. "Your fault? How the heck could it be your fault. You don't have to try to cheer me up."
"Look where we are and say it's not possible for it to be my fault," Sophie replies bitterly. "I'm the worst kind of monster there is."
"C'mon. What could you have done that's so bad?" Wesley asks. "At least you haven't done...anything like what I've done," he says, smacking the trashcan with the back of his hand, a satisfying clang ringing thorugh the air. "Or half the people around here," he adds, weakly trying to be encouraging despite how he's feeling. "It's crazy around here but...you wouldn't be here if you were a bad person."
Sophie sighs. "Why does everyone try say that?" she replies bitterly. "Can't you feel it? The way I'm ripping the joy out of you, all 'coz I have no clue how to control my own misery!"
"Eh, I'm miserable enough on my own," Wesley admits. "Didn't really notice much difference. What are you, though. Some empath?"
"So I'm told," Sophie agrees, turning to face the kitchen door. "Ask Peter to explain what I am if you want, he knows better than anyone else. Sounds like you have something new in common."
"Peter?" Wesley blinks, finally making the connection, however slow the realization finally is. "You?" he asks, incredulous. "It was...you?"
Sophie lowers her head in shame, taking a step towards the door. "Like I said, a monster."
"I..." Having the person to blame for everything standing in front of him. And nothing like he imagined it, the desire for revenge not quite how Wesley pictured it. "I..." he tries again, finally managing to get out a tight, "Did you know?"
"Does it make it any worse that I didn't?" Sophie says quietly, taking another few steps. "I just wish I was brave enough to make sure I'll /never/ hurt anyone again."
Perhaps that's just too close to Wesley's own thoughts that he immediately makes the connection. "No! You don't mean that. I mean, gawd, I know how you feel but...it'll get better. I mean, I have to believe that, or else...I'd be saying the same. Have said it," he admits, one tiny bit of hope fighting through the other emotions filling the area.
Sophie shakes her head. "I was born to feel things," she informs. "So however bad you think I feel it's a thousand times worse. I have every right to feel that bad, because nothing will change what I've done to people."
The next words don't come easily, but Wesley forces them out, reluctantly admitting it with each word. "If you couldn't help it...it's not really...your fault. You just need to...somehow go on. At least that's what I keep hearing."
Sophie rushes towards the safety of the kitchen. "You can't just fix things with words," she sobs. "So stop pretending it's possible okay? Just leave me alone."
Wesley stands there, a split moment considering following but he finally just spins and heads back to retrieve his shoes instead.
Wesley meets Sophie, the source of his troubles, and can't quite bring himself to hate her.
=XS= Gymnasium - Lv B2 - Xavier's School
It's later in the day, and getting periously close to the time classes let out and the gym taken over by the scrawny and not-so with dreams of big beefy muscles or improbable svelte proportions. Jubilee cross the room toward the door, a hooded jacket thrown over her still damp suit top, though water has stopped dripping from the tips of her pigtails.
Thump, thump, thump. The halls echo as a basketball bounces off the floors, Wesley making his way toward the gym, just looking for some way to pass a bit of time. It catches the side of his hand as he enters, sending it veering away bouncing and rolling across the room...as fate would have it right toward Jubilee. Wesley freezes as he catches sight of her, the ball rolling out of reach as he swallows hard. "Hi," is the most he can manage to get out.
Jubilee hitches her duffle bag higher on her shoulder and almost stumbles across the ball. "Hey--" She follows its path back across the floor and up (scrawny is an uncharitable and untrue descriptor) legs to Wesley's face, then stops in a hitching step-slide-stop motion. Oh. The widening of her eyes in surprise and narrowing under whatever emotion (it's hard to tell) kind of cancel each other out and leave her frowning slightly and glancing to the side of him. "Hi." She wraps her other hand around the shoulder strap too.
"Uh...hi," Wesley repeats, apparently unaware that he's already said that. "How...uh...been swimming? I was...uh...just going to play some ball."
Jubilee looks down and behind her, then retraces a few steps to reach the boll that had tripped her up. She kicks it back toward him. "Sat in the staff tub for a bit."
"That's...cool," he says, carefully watching her move toward the ball. "So...how've you been?" he asks, chewing at his bottom lip, at a loss for anything intelligent to say.
Jubilee watches the ball roll back to him, then looks up at him in mild bafflement at the question. "I'm fine." Hello, broken record. "You're fixed?" she asks bluntly.
"I...yeah," he nods. "Jean did it. It's...gone." There's a long pause, as he studies his shoelaces. "I...I'm not sure what I can say. I know it's...like doesn't mean anything, but...I'm still sorry," he says, all the time not looking up.
Jubilee opens her mouth to ask something, then evidently thinks better of it. Or she's too cowardly to want to hear the answer. Instead she looks down at her sneakers and kicks the fraying hem of her jeans out from under her heel. "Ok." Her hands twist on the shoulder strap.
Wesley swallows, head half lifting to try to get some idea of her reaction. "I--" he starts, then stops, wanting to say something to fill the silent, but unsure what or how. "I wish there was something I could say to make it better, but..."
"Make what better? There's nothin' wrong," Jubilee answers. Denial, thou art a chinese firecracker. "Nothin' at all." She starts forward, apparently intending on edging past him.
"Oh. Okay," Wesley says slowly, wavering between getting out of her way and stopping her from leaving. "Jubi--" he interrupts himself with a sigh. "Nevermind. Just...I'm really, really sorry. For everything. And I hope...maybe someday you...won't hate me for it."
Jubilee stops herself a foot or so away from him and half-turns to look at him, her face inscrutable. "Just one question. Was it like with Pete? That everything there... was already /there/?"
"I...," Wesley looks away, his head drops, and when he finally responds, his voice is barely audible. "I don't know. Probably."
"Oh." The sound is breathed, then inhaled in a quick sharp sound, and she faces forward again, staring at the door for a long minute.
"I'm...still trying to figure it all out," Wesley offers hesitantly. "It's...it's like a bad dream I can't quite wake up from."
"What'd ya need ta figure out? I mean, if it's all how you really feel, then seems like-- Seems like it was a /good/ thing. Lots of people kind of never really figure out what they want."
"You think I /wanted/ to...say all that stuff to you? Act like that?" Wesley stares. He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't even know. It was...like a dream. You know it's you, but you do stuff you'd never do when you're awake. I don't even know when it started. When I really /was/ last me." The words gush out, almost without realizing he's talking aloud, then he stops short, shocked that they were.
"No! Not wanted to /say/, but you thought it!" she accuses, still refusing to look at him. A hot tear burns as it rolls down her cheek and she rubs it away, prepared to deny it's existence as firmly as she does their problems. Her problems. "If you don't remember... If /you/ don't know, how'm I supposed to?"
"I don't /know/!" Wesley counters, walking past and banging his head against the wall. "You think I asked for this to happen? That I wanted to chase all my friends away?"
Jubilee's face hardens and she looks after him. "Did I /say/ that? No fair, Wes. You don't get to play the martyr to /me/."
"No, but you're /thinking/ it," he says, turning to look at her, fighting to keep his face from twisting up. Not here. "Everyone is. Like I should have the answers. I don't. Was it me, wasn't it? You want the truth? Yeah, it felt good not to be second guessing myself. To feel like I wasn't in b..anyone's shadow. But it was out of control, like because I could, I had to do everything. And it makes me sick just to think about it."
"I think you should know if you want /me/, yeah, Wesley. I think that's kinda important. I think that's somethin' you oughta know... Oughta not be wonderin' if /those/ feelin's are just figments of this influence." Another tear is scrubbed away from her cheek and she drops the bag from her shoulder, still holding the strap. "I don't know who's shadow you think you've been in, but you haven't been with /me/."
"I...don't trust myself," he says quietly. "/Anything/ I'm feeling. How can I, after...everything. I was crazy about you. But I was plain crazy too. For I don't know how long. And...as good as Jean is, maybe she made a mistake. Especially afte-- how do I know it's not going to come back?"
Jubilee exhales a breathe that might have been a laugh, under different circumstances. "I don't know, Wes. She says they found the people who were doin' this. She said they made sure it's not ever gonna happen again. But maybe... maybe you just needed their excuse. Maybe they just let you do what-- what you've been too afraid o' doin'. I dunno. Maybe you /have/ been crazy longer'n any of us realized." The bag's strap falls atop it with a soft rustle of fabric on canvas as she releases it and steps toward him, closing the distance so that she doesn't have to lift her voice to add, "But /I/ wasn't crazy."
"I...didn't think of it that way," he says, tensing a bit as she steps nearer. "I...the things I said about...you not wanting to be with me," he swallows hard before finishing. "I...knew it wasn't true. But...the other me...needed an excuse so it wouldn't be...my fault. I'm sorry."
Jubilee snorts a hard breath out and shakes her head. "You gotta make up your mind, Wes. I... I can't keep playin' guessin' games. I mean. I don't know... See? I don't know and I can't-- I mean." She stumbles and slides around the words stuck like boulders in the stream of her meaning. She clutches at her elbows and takes a step back.
"Jubilee, this is the first time I've /had/ my own mind in...months." Wesley's feet seem rooted to the spot, unable to move closer or draw away. "Maybe I should be able to just shake this off and move on, but I can't. I need...time to figure out who I am. Make sure I'm /me/."
"I'm not asking you to just shake it off. I'm just... askin'..." Her voice trails off and she backs up another step. "Ok. Time. Yeah. I guess... I guess if you don't know if ya feel anythin' about me, then you probably don't, so... Okay," she mutters, her breathing accelerating and the angle of her backing up changing.
"That's not," Wesley starts hastily, "That's not what I'm saying. But how can expect /you/ to even believe me if I say I like you?" His voice drops lower. "Especially when /I'm/ afraid to trust me."
"Because that's what I fucking /do/, Wesley. I believe in people. I forgive 'em. I'm the person that /has/ ta keep a candy stick in my pocket and a smile on my face," Jubilee blurts out, almost tripping as she stumbles backwards toward the door. "So cut me some slack and--" The doors open behind her.
"If I could take it back, I would," Wesley says, his voice wavering. "I never meant-- It tears me up to think I hurt you. Still am. But I don't know what to do."
"You've hurt me more right now than ya ever did while crazy." She stops and stares at him a long moment, then turns around and storms through the doors before she can crumble, pride driving her down the hall and into the nearest unoccupied room.
Wesley does crumple, against the wall, where he slides to the floor, arms wrapping around his knees as he stares across the gym at the forsaken basketball.
Wesley meets Jubilee sans-Crazy. It does not go well.