Freakout Time!

[Jane]

Mystique would probably be in her quarters. Probably. Unless she was already back to banging Pyro. Not that Jane was one, of course, to judge another's taste in men.

God this was an awkward situation.

National public radio! He had to bring it up on NPR! Why couldn't he be normal and just drunk-dial her randomly and that be the end of it?

But, of course, Isaac had never been normal. That was where the trouble had all sprung from. They were both too abnormal in opposite directions. Future senators didn't date current freaks of nature. She hadn't even lasted long enough at the Fosters' to turn white again. Not that it would have mattered.

She pulled at her hair roughly, frustrated, pulling out a few strands with a wince and remembering that it was probably a bad idea.

And oh shit, there was Mystique. She'd been thinking too much and had been hoping she'd be able to get to the door in time to have thought of something to say that would disguise for brief seconds the fact that she wanted, essentially, to whine and freak out. And ask for advice, of course. But, if she was honest, mostly whine and freak out. Probably heaviest on the latter.

Aagh. It had been a long time since she'd had any sort of female support, though. It was always just Jane, and maybe someone who needed her on a semi-regular basis; but Jane tried not to need anyone. (Look how well that had worked out.)

Resolving not to be ridiculous, Jane smiled at Mystique and stopped walking pointedly, twisting her wrist, and tried to postpone the freaking out until she could do it in a controlled environment.

"Hi," she said. "Can I - can I talk to you?"

[mystique]

Mystique half smiled, that same empathetic look on her face. "Certainly. Care for a drink?" She turned and sauntered down the hallway- it really was impossible, built as she was and nearly naked- not to saunter wherever she went.

Opening her bedroom door by hitting the code on the wall, she waited for Jane to enter before following and shutting the door behind her. The room was sparse, looking like an office, but for a few interesting objects here and there- a house plant under a spectrum light, a few pictures in matching steel frames magnetically held to a wall, her bed twice the size of the standard sets with a beautiful blue and black velvet squared comforter laying half crumpled over it.

She sat at the desk and nudged the arm chair toward Jane. "Have a seat."

[Jane]

"Yes," Jane said firmly. "I care very much for a drink."

But only one. Alcohol poisoning was no laughing matter; she didn't process things at quite the same rate as most people did.

Well, under the circumstances, maybe two. She could handle a little liver failure.

She did not saunter down the hallway. With the first brimmings of carnal rage drifting away after a furious pillow-punching in her room just after the meetings, she was wandering down the path to another freakout, and was barely able to schlump. She barely noticed the courtesy of entering first, though she mumbled the thankyou that was expected of her everywhere else purely from habit, sitting as she was instructed in the armchair before the desk, crossing her legs on the seat, slumping over, and looking generally miserable.

"You said to come see you if I wanted to talk about what to do next," she said. "So. I have no clue what to do next."

[mystique]

Turning to the cabinet next to her desk and pulling out an already opened bottle of blush wine, she poured them both a glass and handed one over to Jane. She loved this particular Reisling, it almost tasted like buttered spring apples. Taking a sip herself, she shook her head.

"Start at the beginning. Who is he?"

[Jane]

Jane had never had Reisling in any form. Her drinking was usually limited to local beer and Mad Dog. (Blueberry Razzmatazz tasted like drinking a jolly rancher, oddly.)

"Start at the beginning. Who is he?"

"The beginning," Jane murmured, with a wry smile. "I was sixteen and I ran away from home. Stayed at one place until the guy's wife kicked me out, and then I got to Kentucky, to the Fosters', and the chef kept me on to help. And then Isaac came home from Stanford."

She sipped the wine, too distracted to notice the sweetness or smoothness. Even the small amount dulled her stress just the tiniest fraction, though, so she took a longer pull before continuing. "And we just became friends. He wanted to be a senator, so eventually I left. I didn't want to get his family in trouble."

Jane played with the glass. "And that's all there ever was. That's everything. And now he's on NPR and I'm out here and I don't know what to do."

[mystique]

"Then you were more than friends," She pointed out, with the sort of detached warmth that neither pried nor tossed out disinterest. Mystique was a woman who kept her secrets, and occasionally needed to let them spill out before she burst from inside. She suspected Jane was having one of those moments.

"If you had to leave, then there was something else. How far did it go?"

[Jane]

"But we weren't," Jane said. Her tone was only a little miserable. "I mean, I always... and I guess he... but nothing. I was always scared he wouldn't - I mean, I was bright green the first time we ever met, and he was some sort of star law student and way older than me, and all this stuff. Senators are supposed to get Jackies. Not... I don't know. Me."

Jane had never been proactive, though. In fact, most of her time had been devoted to making sure he had no inkling that she was anything but amused and even slightly annoyed by his presence. She was that kind of girl.

"If you had to leave, then there was something else. How far did it go?"

"We thought his parents might find out I was at the house," she said. "They never knew. Just Isaac and the cook. They never spent much time below stairs. And then there was his career and everything, and I didn't think he needed any scandals hanging around, especially since it was Kentucky. And I was afraid he might figure me out. Just a lot of little things."

She curled further into herself, her free arm tucked around her stomach and her head down. She played with the glass with one hand, then stopped as it almost fell.

"He was supposed to just disappear," she said quietly. "Except for CNN or whatever. I never wanted to hear from him again. This was never supposed to happen."

[mystique]

"Are you concerned that he'll try to seek you out? Or perhaps that you'll want him to."

"Or just wanting to keep him out of your mind." She nodded, sipping her wine and shifting in her chair.

Mystique didn't need to pry, but the girl had to get it out and if she had to ask pointed questions to get her to talk, she would.

[Jane]

"Are you concerned that he'll try to seek you out? Or perhaps that you'll want him to."

Jane shook her head, her elbow moving to the arm of the chair so she could hold up her forehead, pressing in at her temple and the center of her brow. No, she wanted to say. Just make him go away. Just make it all go away.

That might not be purely truthful, though.

"Or just wanting to keep him out of your mind."

The heel of her hand pushed briefly at her eyesocket, willing away the headache she knew was coming, and then she drained the rest of the Reisling. It stung on the way down. Jane was no heavyweight drinker.

"I don't know," she said, her throat still stung and hoarse with the liquor to which it was unaccustomed. "I really, really don't. I just... I just want to know what to do next. I don't think he'll try to find me. He's not - not like that. I've spent the last ten years trying to get him out of my head, and obviously that's not working so well..."

She sighed, feeling near tears for the first time in a long time.

"What would you do?"

[mystique]

For one reason or another, she hadn't expected that question. Taking another sip, she looked about the room, considering it.

She's definitely had ex-lovers show up at inopportune moments- Baltimore being a classic example. But she wasn't sure Jane was the sort that would have ended up in a near-lethal fight as a result.

But if she were to run into a long-ago potential love... someone she'd become close to, perhaps had feelings for... the sort of teenage love they made movies about. What would she do?

A face showed up in her mind, and she smiled faintly, not letting a drop of that sadness rise to the surface.

"I would have it out on the table. Let him know of my presence, perhaps speak. Figure things out. What is there to fear?"

And it had been just what she had done, with that one. Even now her heart surged to think about it.

"If you fear your broken heart, well... there are ways beyond that." She nodded.

[Jane]

"Speak?"

So not the answer she was looking for. And nothing to fear? How could she say there was nothing to fear? Jane had everything to fear. Despite the fact that he'd confessed on NPR (freaking NPR!) that he'd had a crush on her when he was young, that she was the reason behind his major campaign platform, despite all that... how could she not be afraid?

Jane had always lived on fear. Fear in proportionate amounts kept you alive. It was good to fear dark alleys in the middle of the night, good to fear guns and knives and anything that lurked outside your apartment after sunset.

Was it good to fear this? It might be efficient; but was it good?

What was she even supposed to say? 'Hey, how's the campaign going, by the way I heard you liked me when I was like 17 on NPR. What's up with that?'

"If you fear your broken heart, well... there are ways beyond that."

"Ways beyond a broken heart?" Jane looked up at the other woman with disbelief. "That don't involve a huge amount of substance abuse? Or just 'not letting it get to me'? I mean, not that it would break, even... but how are you supposed to keep peppy after getting shot down? I always thought that was one of those completely unavoidable life experience things."

[mystique]

"It -is- one of those completely unavoidable life experience things," she countered. "And I didn't say you were always happy. But you do survive."

Mystique's heart had taken such abuse throughout the years she hardly knew the difference between a barb and a soft caress. And while it might have been easy to shut down and be hard- and it couldn't be denied she could evade love like the best of them- when she saw a chance to take, she usually did. For better or worse. Usually worse.

At least so far.

"Avoiding love because you might get hurt is a lot like avoiding life because you might die. You know all the cliches I'm sure. You have nothing to lose... unless of course you're concerned about any potential criminal record."

[Jane]

"Survive," Jane said. "I guess..."

Surviving was what she did best, after all. Mystique too, by the looks of it. It was just that surviving was so much easier when there was less threat of not surviving.

...whoa. Even in her head, that sentence hadn't made sense at all. Apparently the pangs of depis'd love plus alcohol made for a muddled Jane very quickly.

"Avoiding love because you might get hurt is a lot like avoiding life because you might die. You know all the cliches I'm sure. You have nothing to lose... unless of course you're concerned about any potential criminal record."

"I think he might be more concerned than I am about a criminal record."

Jane paused and thought about that.

"Oh jeez," he said. "What if his opposition finds out he had a crush on a mutant terrorist? Or, I mean, they'll play me up like a big scary terrorist. And the film from Baltimore and... oh, man. I think I just lost him the election."

Poor Kentuckian mutants.

"But besides," she said. "I mean - look at the two of us. Even if it turned out he still - and everything, what are we supposed to do about it? He's all up in government continents away."

But in spite of all her shooting-down of Mystique's suggestions, the seed had been planted, ha, in her mind already. She could talk to him, at least. She could do that much. It might be nice to catch up after so long.

Yeah. Nice.

[mystique]

Mystique crossed her arms and fixed Jane with a 'don't give me that line' expression.

"I didn't say you had to marry him. But I'm willing to bet there's an email address, and I can make it so that your IP can't be tracked to Genosha. It's pretty standard from our connections as it is."

"It's no more right for you to say you know how he'd feel if you contacted him than it is for him to assume you're beneath him because you're a mutant." She smirked. "And from what it sounds like, he doesn't think a thing of your mutation."

"You might have a chance to help mutants everywhere, Jane. More than you already have."

[Jane]

Jane responded with an 'I know, that was a totally lame line' expression and a smallish, abashed smile.

"I know," she said. "I know I'm not going to marry him, it's just... awkward."

She was right, too, about the mutant thing. If he was going to be bothered, he would've already been bothered. It was mostly that pesky criminal record she was worried about.

"You might have a chance to help mutants everywhere, Jane. More than you already have."

She looked up. "You think so? What could I do more than I've already done? I mean, as far as Isaac goes."

[mystique]

"Think of how much more you may be able to influence public perception of the Brotherhood if, by some chance, Isaac were to find you. What a romantic story." She finished her glass.

"It's just a thought. Aside, you can ignore it, think it over and do nothing, and the story will not likely come up again in the press. It's up to you."

She stood, putting the wine bottle away.

[Jane]

Wow. Good point. She could even handle doing that without being totally conniving and manipulative, which was lucky, because she wasn't very good at either.

In fact, reckless enthusiasm and emotional reunions would probably sell really well.

Wow. She was turning into a mediawhore. Or at least thinking like one. Got to lay off the late-night Fox.

"It's just a thought. Aside, you can ignore it, think it over and do nothing, and the story will not likely come up again in the press. It's up to you."

Jane thought as hard as possible, feeling the headache encroach with renewed vigor, but it had faded to a secondary concern. She didn't like being confused; it was so much easier when she only had one option into which to throw herself with abandon.

"I wonder," she said, "if - how hard would it be to find contact information?"

In an instant, she'd decided, at least on one thing: she was going to send an e-mail or call at some point. At some point. And say... she didn't know that yet. But she was going to say something.

It was a start.

[mystique]

"I'm willing to bet there's an office contact on his website. An initial contact can be made there, they'll pass it on to him without a doubt. Particularly if it effects his campaign. He took a risk, saying your name at all."

Mystique turned and looked at Jane. She was a strong woman, even if she was rattled by the surprise. She's handle the situation perfectly, Mystique had little doubt.

[Jane]

Jane nodded, her bottom lip held between her teeth, but not bitten. She'd go look up his site in Gill's office eventually. In the morning, when she felt more human. She always felt better after she slept.

Placing the glass on Mystique's desk, she rose from the chair, pausing for a moment, her resolve weakening for a split second. She didn't have to do anything, really; like Mystique said, the news probably wouldn't pick it up at all, she'd just disappear, a name attached to his more marketable face -

No. That was the coward's way out. She'd already decided what she was going to do, and now she had to stick to it.

"Thank you," she said to Mystique. "Really."

With a small smile and a nervous, awkward wave in lieu of handshake, Jane left, heading back to her own quarters with quite a bit to occupy her mind.

[exit Jane]