10020/Peace And Quiet At Last

Peace And Quiet At Last
Date of Scene:	12 November 2019
Location:	Wellness Office - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Chris and Shannon talk about the day her healing mutation manifested. Courage, life, nightmares, and other possible uses of her gift are discussed.
Cast of Characters:	Nightingale, Triage

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Nightingale has posed:
     It's quiet in the mansion for once. Too quiet. But that's just the way a certain winged healer likes it right about now. Armed only with a notepad, pencil, a pad of music staff paper, and her wits, she slips into the wellness office, figuring it's pretty well empty by this time, and a change of scenery from a day cooped up in her room would do her some good. She's in her red tartan sweatpants, her baggy gray tank top, and her goofy sheepdog slippers. She curls up on one of the visitor's chairs in a corner somewhere, out of the way, scribbling away at the notepad in her hand.

Triage has posed:
Chris pauses at the door to the office and slides the panel on the sign upward, so that it hides the text reading 'Open' and reveals the text below, which reads, 'Closed - Please knock'. Then he steps inside and closes the door. He shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on a coat-tree beside the door. He removes his boots and places them under the tree, and in stocking feet, he heads to a smaller room, formerly a large storage closet. After Kitty agreed that he should work here, he commandeered the closet and converted it to a small bedroom with a twin bed and a filing cabinet serving as dresser. After a few minutes, he emerges, unaware that a visitor has claimed one of the chairs. He wears dark gray sweat pants, a maroon tee-shirt emblazoned with the name of a local jazz club, and stylized images of various musical instruments, and a pair of leather slippers with good traction to prevent skidding.

Nightingale has posed:
     For that visitor, it's a little bit late to knock. There's a light humming just barely audible in her general direction, followed by light scratching as pencil is set to paper. No, that note wasn't right. Nor was that turn of phrase. She glances up as Chris enters, smiling briefly and moving to stand. Maybe it was time to skedaddle--after all, he needed his rest, and this was his home she'd just invaded! Shuffling towards the door, Shannon tries to make her way out quietly before she's seen....

Triage has posed:
Chris emerges in time to see the back and ragged wings. Before she can reach the closed door to complete her polite exit, he clears his throat lightly, enough for her to hear without also startling her. "Shanon? Where are you going?" he asks. "It's after hours but you should know that you're welcome."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon cracks a little bit of a smile, stopping dead in her tracks. "Maybe, but still..." Her wings, while still missing some feathers, don't seen entirely so ragged as before, and there is no droop to them. Well, much, anyways. "How's it going, Chris?" she murmured softly.

Triage has posed:
Chris tilts his head. "But still /what/?" he asks. Her next words are normal but not the tone. "I've had a busy day, but I'm fine. Now, unless you insist on leaving without an explanation, please, tell me what's bothering you. You're welcome here, especially if you need to talk." He waves to the chair where she was sitting. "I should open the door. It's only proper."

Nightingale has posed:
     "You're not the only one that's had a busy day," Shannon murmurs, despite it being unlikely she's been seen anywhere around the mansion at all tha day. She flops back down in the chair that had been commandeered for her refuge, keeping her voice down as he is going to open the door all over again. "It's nothing that can't wait till office hours, really."

Triage has posed:
Chris pauses, his hand on the lever that would open the door. He looks to Shannon when she tries to dismiss the problem. "Do you want me to keep it closed?" he asks. "If so, the office just opened again for very special patient. If you want coffee, tea, or cocoa, I'll be glad to fix it."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods slowly in reply to the offer of keeping the door closed. Her notebook is closed, the pencil tucked away behind her right ear, and the offer of something hot to drink is far from refused. "Maybe some coffee," she mused. "Since I really can't have anything stronger just yet."

Triage has posed:
"Make yourself comfortable, then," Chris invites. "I'll be back soon." He goes to the kitchen station and drops a coffee pod into a new single-cup brewer, part of his allowance for an office that also serves as home. While he waits, he places a pitcher of cream, a bowl of sugar, and a spoon on the tray. He sets the tray on the low table near the chairs and then he switches one cup for another and starts the process again. He carries the large cup to Shannon, holding it so that she can hook her fingers through the handle before returning to bring his cup to the table. "There," he says. "Now, if you want to talk, I'm here to listen."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon raises her cup in grateful salute before taking a slow, careful sip of the bitter brew, taking a moment to appreciate the nuances of its flavor before adding a little bit of cream and sugar to the mix. "Gwendolyn stopped by my dorm earlier today," she offers. "Helped a little getting my wings sort of in order, so at least they don't look like total crap during molting season. A lot more came out than I thought would." She pauses, letting this sink in for a few moments. "I don't know if you know about her abilities, but when she touches objects, she can see into their past... pick up things about them, sometimes about their owner, just by touch."

For a moment or two more, Shannon drinks a little bit of the restorative in her cup. "I was telling her about the day of my change. But... not only did she hear me telling her, but when she was getting rid of some of the loose feathers, she actually saw and /felt/ it. I didn't expect that to happen, and hope it didn't hurt her. But it made me realize how badly that day's affected me since, and still does."

Triage has posed:
Chris tilts his head when Shannon talks about her day. He smiles warmly. "I know that you worry about your wings. I understand, but please don't. It's temporary, and both of us know that anxiety is a factor. If you try to avoid worrying, you might molt less." He sips some of his coffee before adding a touch of sugar and cream to the cup. "I didn't know that about Gwendolyn. It's quite a talent, although I can see how it could be a problem. When you talk to her again, you might want to tell her that I know, for honesty's sake. If you do, tell her that it's our secret and deserve guarding." He eyes Shannon, and asks, "How do you feel now that you've opened that bottle?"

Nightingale has posed:
     "Half relieved, and half like crap that she had to see and feel it like that. And entirely weak for knowing how badly it still affects me." To the admonition for honesty, she nods, hanging her head and peering into the shimmering mocha surface of the cup's contents. "Can't help this molting, though, it's the seasonal one."

     She swirls the cup around for a moment, watching the light play upon the surface of the drink, and taking a sip. "I hate admitting to how weak that day made me, and for being weak enough to still try to run from it, to hide it all over again, when I need to be strong for everyone I reach out to help. It's really mixed. I need to be strong for everyone, but in here..." She taps her heart. "...there's still that scared, lonely kid who had everyone she thought she could trust, with the exception of her immediate family, turn their backs on her. The kid who died a little bit inside each day she had to be alone, apart from the friends she loved. Sometimes it still feels like dying a little bit each day, even though I know I should be able to trust everyone here, that history isn't going to repeat itself. But I'm terrified it will all the same."

Triage has posed:
"In each moment, we have a choice, to live in fear of the past or to live in hope for the future," Chris says. "You left that little girl in the past. You're not her. With time, you've changed. You only need to look at yourself to see that. Don't see the wings as a stigma, they're part of the new, the part that can take flight."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon shakes her head. "The wings came in a few months /after/ that day. My former best friend never saw them. It was the healing gift that destroyed things." She takes something of a deeper breath, exhaling slowly. "I'll always be grateful for what time Josh was here, for the things he was able to teach me while he could, even if I don't understand why he left. Maybe he had his reasons, and I don't hate him for it. If he ever comes back, it'll be a good thing. But the reason it hurt so badly... I'd started to trust again, someone I'd barely met, with the very thing that destroyed the life I had, and then... just out of nowhere... he was gone. It was like that first day all over again."

Triage has posed:
"And that leaves me," Chris notes. "I told you that I came back to help. That includes helping you. I know that Josh was important to you, and I can't replace him. Still, I can help. So, tell me how I can help." He nods to Shannon.

Nightingale has posed:
     "You already are. Putting up with these stupid ramblings. Just... being you." Her frown deepens, as she realizes the effect that her opening up might have on Chris, and a few tears fall. "God, I'm sorry.. now I've probably made you feel like crap, like you're less important for it, when you came back to help... "

Triage has posed:
Snatching a tissue from the box on the table, Chris leans forward and daubs at Shannon's eyes and face. "You told me about your struggles before I decided that I should be here. Don't you remember?" he answers. "If I hadn't known about those things, I might have reason to regret, but I knew. Beside that, I was thinking about it before the field trip, and wondering if I was needed." He nods. "Clearly, I was. I saw that."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods slowly. "Yes, you were, and are. And you are helping, more than you realize." She smiles a little bit, sipping her coffee, and thinking for a moment. "Maybe sometime, those nightmares that should hit most normal people about the things I've seen and done will hit me. I don't know when or even if they will. But when I was trying to tell Jubilee that those weren't the things that terrified me... this is the beginning of what I meant, what I'd hoped to be able to tell her."

Triage has posed:
"If they haven't come already, those nightmares will come," Chris predicts. "When they do, don't try to hide from them, but don't allow them to control you either. Give yourself the freedom to cry, and the tears will help to wash away the pain. Just know that you'r never alone."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon shakes her head. "They haven't yet, and that's the part that worried Jubilee, I think. I'm not frightened of the violence, it hasn't given me nightmares yet, it's just... deadly calm, when all that stuff's happening. But it's not being desensitized, either. Knowing that there's senseless violence in the world like that, it gets me hopping mad. Going out there in the field, actually getting elbows-deep in it and /doing/ something about it, it's fighting back against the hate. So's healing. That's fighting back, too. But I won't shy away from /any/ of it, because if we don't stand up for what's right, how can we ask anyone else to do the same?"

Triage has posed:
Triage says, "That's why the school exists," Chris replies. "It's here to prepare students for life in the bigger world. It's also here to prepare a few with the courage to fight, so that they can defend those who can't. We're among that lot who need to be ready at any time.""

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods slowly. "Maybe as healers, yes. But my gift can be dangerous to me, so not only do I need to work on lessening that, but it just makes good sense to pick up other skills as well to back that up. Both healing in conventional ways... and fighting. It's not going to do anybody any good out there if the medic can't defend herself, or them."

Triage has posed:
"Exactly," Chris agrees. "At least you can fly, and that can serve as part of an attack. That's why I took up the staff and I'm looking into other training. At times, we'll need to defend team-mates, innocents, our patients, and ourselves. I've heard a few stories from past wars of medics who never fought, but those are rare and I don't want to depend on that notion."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods. "Exactly. And, if you remember, my flight /can/ be an attack sometimes. Especially if I decide to drop-kick someone. Next time I have to, though, it shouldn't bust my ankles and legs doing it. Not since I've been working on building those up." Tilting her head a little bit, she purses her lips. "There is that one idea Sam mentioned, I'm... not even quite sure how to try. The one about turning my healing around and reversing it. When should we test it? It's been niggling at the back of my mind, and it's probably going to bug the crap out of me till I even know if it's possible. In theory, it should be... if my gift works anything like yours. I just haven't figured out how to -project- life force, just -take in- the damaged stuff. But it should be possible to reverse that flow... in theory."