9458/Free At Last!

Free At Last!
Date of Scene:	07 October 2019
Location:	Garage - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Bean and Shannon work on restoring his bike, talking about life, family, and everything.
Cast of Characters:	Nightingale, Samuel Morgan

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Nightingale has posed:
     Weekends were not meant to be spent in the medbay. However, true to form, a familiar winged healer is just getting out of there. Again. With the proviso, of course, that she be on light activity for the next couple days while her healing factor did its job and nature took its course! So she is quick to head to the kitchen, grab a few apples, and head out on her way towards the peace and quiet of the barn. Not to work, but just enjoy the simplicity and quiet of the animals, and maybe give Brightwind an apple or two.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    As has become the custom over the past week, with the exception of the last few days, there is music in the garage, coming from a certain booth where a bike is being lovingly restored. This time, however, Bean isn't there, instead making a few tweaks to what... once /was/ the arc welder, but has now somehow grown. Or, at least, been enlarged with a mobile articulated frame that very much appears home built.

Nightingale has posed:
     The music draws Shannon like a moth to a flame, a smile appearing on her face. The sight of the modified arc welder, however, has her raising her eyebrows. Perhaps it's just as well she's moving pretty slowly, and isn't quite so quick to get in the way of the unusual-looking contraption. She stays on the outside of the bay, smiling as she looks on. It takes her several minutes before she speaks up.

     "Hey, Bean... how's the bike coming along?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    The welder, luckily, wasn't to be found in Bean's booth. It's an expensive piece of equipment that was to be shared with the garage in general, and the technopath nearby smiles when he sees Shannon, wiping his hands on a rag as he walks over. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better. Bike's going to be fine once I get the right parts, I was just helping Alek with his. You've just missed him."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon rolls her eyes and laughs a little. "Sheesh. Don't tell me it's made the rounds of the school that I was in the medbay again?" She smiles some, and cants her head to one side, leaning on the wall. "Only met Alek once. It wasn around the time of his and Mr. Parker's birthday. Couldn't figure out what sort of cake he wanted." She looks over the bike, still trying to figure out which part is which, shaking her head. "I think this whole mechanics thing is going to take me a while to pick up."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "It's strange. Every time I see him, I feel like we have so much in common. And at the same time, I want to make sure he never finds out about the things I'm pretty sure we don't have in common." At some point, it seems, what they have in common included building the welder monstrosity, but Bean walks back to his bike, still in pieces, although all the rusted metal has by now been treated and nickel plated. Except the frame, which is still having work done to it. "I'll ask him about his favorite cake next time."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon smiles and pushes herself away from the wall, hunting for a little sandpaper. Hey, if she was going to be here shooting the breeze, she might as well help out a little, right? This qualified as light activity, yes? "I don't know what to say on that one. To some people, those things might matter. To some, they might not. I can't speak for everyone else." Her wings flutter with delight as she finds a bit of sandpaper; it was going to be nice just helping with something simple, no healing involved. "There's a favorite quote of mine, or at least as close as I can get. 'The ones who mind don't matter, and the ones who matter, don't mind'."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Bean finds a stool he'd been using to hold up the re-finished oil pan, moves that to the work table and places the stool next to the frame, motioning for Shannon to sit. If she's going to help, she might as well be comfortable doing it. By now he must have found out that his friend has spend another weekend in the med bay, but he's studiously ignoring that topic, instead finding some sandpaper for himself and getting to work on the frame. "Some things, some knowledge... it's like... like rust on metal. It doesn't look like it matters much when there's just a little spot, but that spot always grows. Soon you can't tell what the metal looked like, it's just all rust. And you can take the rust off, but that takes work, a lot of work... and the metal is never the same again."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon flashes Bean a grateful smile, and slides onto the stool, starting to apply herself to the task of sanding rust away from the frame. "Yeah, that's true, the metal's never the same again. But think about it for a second. It can become something beautiful, and cherished again." She motions to the frame, and sands away another piece of rust. "Just like you're doing to this bike. Yeah, okay, the metal's going to change. The rust spots are going to take a lot of work to remove, and the metal is going to be changed. But you're restoring it. Just like you're being restored."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "The best you can do, in this case, is the plate the metal." And yes, Bean has been doing just that, judging by the sight of the neatly organised nuts and bolts and sundry metal bits laid out for re-assembly. Some of them are a duller, more practical nickel finish, others have that bright, glossy look that is only rivaled by chrome. The renewed whole is likely to look quite spectacular, utterly unlike the bike it was even before it was left to rust over, and yet in some ways... "The metal is still the same underneath, with all its flaws. You can make it look nice, you can even strengthen it a bit, but the metal doesn't change. It's forever weaker for having rusted. It's the same with some memories."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods, and smiles some. She sets the sandpaper down, and reaches over to wrap her right arm around him in a hug. Her left arm is a bit slower to join in, but she just holds him for a moment. "We're all flawed. We all have memories. Some more than some. Eventually we all need a little work, and a little strengthening. But if we're lucky, we find friends and others who care about us enough to make sure we can become something truly wonderful."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
Samuel kneels next to Shannon, both hands still on the bike's frame, but stopping what he's doing. After a moment, he leans sideways into the hug, eyes closed. "I'm trying my best. But fighting those holograms felt so... real. Seeing those uniforms, those tactics. Seeing them shoot at you... It... wasn't that bad until yesterday. But I can't get them out of my head, and the rest of the stuff is coming through with it."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods, and just holds Bean for as long as he will allow, wrapping her wing around him as well. "When I saw you take on that flak tank alone, and you took the fall for all of us, part of me wanted to just curl up and die right there. Yeah, okay, I know it was just a simulation, but one of these days that could be very real." She hums a light, unfamiliar melody, rocking him gently for a few minutes. "But just like then, we face it together." She smiles warmly, continuing to hum that strange but somehow light and beautiful tune, and cants her head towards him. "What stuff is coming through?"

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Even with Shannon's arms around him, wings and all, Bean finds a large rusty spot on the frame and starts to sand, with slow and deliberate effort. "Directives, standing orders, radio codes, the right way to polish boots, the correct way to make your bed for inspection... Little things. Things I haven't though about in a long time."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods slowly as she listens, a small smile curling the corners of her lips upwards as she watches him sanding away at that rusty spot. "I can't even begin to imagine what some of that is like. Directives? Standing orders?" A light laugh escapes her, and her eyes gleam with warmth. "And if you ever see my dorm, you'll find out pretty quickly I am lousy at remembering to make my bed."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
Samuel seems focused on that spot, worrying at it to make sure it's gone. It's a blemish... it doesn't belong there. "Standing order five, the mission is paramount. Standing order six, when captured, say nothing and attempt escape at any cost. First the stiff brush for the dirt and mud, then the soft cloth, apply polish, use the soft brush when dry, shine with soft cloth. Inspection at oh-six-hundred daily. Uniform requirement to be posted in the communal room at noon for the next day."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods, listening, and picking up her piece of sandpaper to start working on another spot of rust, sharing in the task with him. "What mission was that, though?" She does frown a little bit, and squeezes her left arm around his shoulder gently. "You're... not going to leave, are you? I'd really miss you if you went. A lot."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "Hmm? Mission?" Bean seems to be nudged from his course of thought for a short moment, blinking, still working at that spot of rust. "Standing orders apply to all day to day activities and mission profiles. Exceptions to be approved by the base commander only." With a long scrape, the technopath looks at Shannon, essaying a bit of a smile. "I don't plan on going anywhere."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon smiles, ruffling Bean's hair lightly. "Well, this isn't a base. It's a school. And it's home, too." A whisper of a sigh escapes her, the smile warm and gentle. "Good. I'm glad. This place wouldn't be the same without you. -I- wouldn't be the same."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    The last of that spot of rust is sanded away, just as Bean's hair is ruffled. Something seems to bring him back to the present, and he blinks a few times in rapid succession, first looking at his hands and then at the frame. "At first I wanted to treat this like another base. I figure that, if I just go back to what I know best, this would start making sense. But it didn't, until I stopped trying to hand on to what I knew. It's... not easy having to unlearn things. But I'm trying."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods, one hand resting on the metal frame for a moment, the rasping of sandpaper on metal falling silent for a few seconds. "It's difficult, letting go of old ideas and learning new ones. Sometimes you realize you were hanging onto things you didn't even know were there to begin with." A single tear falls down her face, and she tries to smile. "Cannonball would probably hang me by my wings for even saying this, but when he was visiting me in the medbay last evening, some things he said made a lot of sense. I went from having just me and my mom and dad, to a whole school full of friends and even family. And I'm scared of losing that. Somewhere in there, I'm scared if I don't live up to the things I'm seeing around me... to the things that are asked of me... I'll just be sent away, like I'm not good enough to be here. Stupid I know."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "It's not stupid if you're worried about it." For someone who was raised as he was, Bean nevertheless seems to come up with some remarkable insights from time to time. "Fears aren't rational, or we wouldn't be afraid of anything. You're a good person, so you're always afraid of losing what you have through some fault of your own. Because you care about everyone. Because you see the best in everyone."

    The next words come out slowly, hesitantly, almost in a whisper. "What's it... what's it like? Have a mother?"

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon smiles at the question, caught a bit off-guard. The rasp of sandpaper on metal, smoothing away the rust, is all that can be heard for a few moments, the sickly brownish-red of rust buffed away bit by bit to reveal the whole, gleaming metal beneath. "That's a question nobody's ever asked me. It's pretty wonderful. At least, it was on my end. Some people aren't as lucky as I was." Her fingers brush against the metal, flicking the reddish dust away, before she goes back to work on the spot. "I mean, my mother went through a lot. Only one I've told this was Cannonball. Haven't even told Jean or Scott, because I don't want pity, or to have them thinking it was a mistake to bring me here." She sighs softly, the rhythmic rasping of sandpaper slowing, and falling silent. "I almost had a lot of siblings. There was Heather and Chad... Bree and Kelly... mom miscarried them. They never even got a chance to live. Then there was Jacob. He was lost to crib death. I'm the only one of the kids to have survived. So, you have someone who you know has already gone through a lot, and will hold on to you even tighter for it. Someone who will always love you, and support you no matter what. I don't know if there's really the right words for it. It's hard to describe."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    The sanding stops for a moment, and this time it's Bean hugging Shannon. He understands the concept of siblings on an abstract level, understands loss and grief, and tries to imagine what it must be like to someone like the person Shannon has just described. "That's why you care so much."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods, and leans into the hug, trusting those hands she had seen wreak so much havoc in combat to not harm her now. "Guess she passed that on to me. Dad, too. He's a mortician, so he sees people at their worst possible times. And I've seen how it tears him up inside sometimes. There's times I actually caught him crying, and I'd just sing him some silly little song and hug him forever to try and make it all go away. But it doesn't always go away, sometimes not for a long time if ever. Sometimes things can stick with you. But you don't stop caring, or trying. And when you care about someone, you try that much harder."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    After a few seconds of hug, Bean pulls away, sitting next to the frame and looking at it. So much rust. So much work. And yet it needed doing. "See, I know everything I need to do to make this bike work. Everything's laid out, bolt by bolt, everything's been plated, everything that can be repaired has been repaired, I can get new parts whenever, but... none of it matters as long as the frame isn't ready."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon smiles a bit, letting out a little sigh of disappointment as he pulls away, but hides it by turning to look at the frame. "Well, if you like, maybe I can help you a bit with the frame? That's just basic sanding and stuff, right?" She giggles softly, looking down at her hands. "Let's face it, I'm no mechanic. Not yet."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "I mean..." and here Bean has to smile, figuring he probably took the entire simile too far. "Sometimes it's easy to focus on what comes next. The engine, the transmission, the brakes, the wiring, the furniture, the wheels... so easy, that it's also easy to forget the core of the bike, the frame. That needs doing first, or no matter how well you tune the engine, the bike will never drive."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods slowly. "Without a good frame, the rest isn't going to count for much." She smiles and sets to work on another spot of rust, buffing it away little by little. "It's nice to just be doing something -normal- for a change."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Joining in on the sanding and the buffing, Bean pipes up with a smile. "I thought that was my line?"

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon lets out a short laugh, and just continues to sand away the rust. "This time, I'm stealing it. I ummm, sort of had another visitor in the medbay. And let me tell you, when Logan's concerned about you, he's gonna roar like a hurricane. Sure didn't expect to see him in there at all." She cracks a bit of a smile, shaking her head. "It should've scared the shit out of me, hearing him sound off like that, but it didn't, even though it was aimed at me. It was out of concern, not anger. But he said some things that made sense, and so did Cannonball."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "I've heard a lot about Mister Logan." Bean admits, renewing his efforts to get the frame rust free. "I've never met him, but I believe they would like me to join his class. He sounds like someone just like you. Someone who cares deeply about their friends."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon nods. "I think in his way, he does. I'm actually in his class, believe it or not." She smiles, starting to hum that unfamiliar melody again, her sanding taking on a sort of counterpoint to it. "He's pretty no-nonsense. He sees a spade, he's gonna call it a spade. And I'd watch it, he knows German, too. Rough and tough on the outside, but I think somewhere under that, there's a heart of gold. Just... hidden really well, most of the time."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "No swearing and no nonsense, understood Ma'am." There's something satisfying about just having a physical problem in front of you, that can only be solved with time and effort. Sanding a dirty bike frame... who knew it would be so therapeutic. And what is he going to do when he runs out of bike to restore? "If he's half what people say he is, I can't wait to meet him."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon bursts out laughing, with that joyous abandon he had heard just once before, the night of the mac 'n cheese. "No swearing? Ha! Trying to censor yourself is pretty fucking useless around him. I wouldn't even bother trying to watch your language, he'll just call you out on it. He did to me." She smiles, and nods. "If I see him before you do, I'll pass that along. Usually have class with him on Friday evenings." Indeed, when they ran out of bike to restore, what would be next? There was always something more they could take on, and it would be together. That was a nice thought. "By the way," she adds, her eyes twinkling. "I like science fiction movies, and I'm a sucker for musicals."