milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

jean grey,
vic sage

(no subject)

The blinding white light on the other side vanished as The Door was closed.
Jean stood, looking at the bar. Silently. Then her lips curled into a smile.

"I have to admire your resiliency."

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Charlie peers down from the rafters, and overhears the woman talking to herself. He calls down.

"Whose resiliency? The bar's? Surely not mine."

"Yes," Jean said, glancing upward to the rafts.

"You were here during the Crisis?" He smiles down. And notices she's a fellow redhead.

Jean shook her head. "There was a crisis?"

So many endings and then beginnings here. Everywhere.

"Everything almost ended. Time came undone. Things went six or seven kinds of insane." Pause. "What were you referring to?"

"The same." Which was not the same as to say that she was there.

"You didn't know what happened. But you did." Great. She's being cryptic.

That's his job. Or at least his hobby.

"I didn't know exactly, no." Still doesn't completely. His explanation is only another shadow on the little proofs all before her. "But I can see what is still here to be seen of it."

All the cracks sealing themselves away. The echoes of such destruction and such creation. The minor force of it like a lesser strain to the melody that sings in all of her.

"Second sight? Or just intuition?" Which are not quite the same, right?

"Neither." It's really that simple. "I can just see it."

"It used to be a mess. And it mended itself."

Correction. "Is mending itself."

"You can see the fabric of reality. OK." He figures it's time to leap down. "Can you see, say, someone whose being was dead and is now alive?" He's curious.

What else is new?

She can cut away and make anew the fabric of reality. But she doesn't say this, watching as he lands. Thinking briefly of Henry. A world of images across so many years. Always from some height to below.

The question though, Jean's gazed focused on him, her head-tilting. "Yes."

Given Milliways that question actually went several different ways.

"Interesting.

"I'm Charlie." Time to pause the questions for a moment.

"Jean," she offered, in answer.

It was one of several true answers.

"So does your insight give you a clue as to what really happened here? I'm in still in the dark." Doesn't hurt to ask.

Jean took the moment to look around. Almost as thought in a arc from one side of her, up and over, to the over. Not quite as though she is looking at walls or rafter os ceiling at all. There's almost something bird-like to the movement.

"It should have all ended. All of it."

"But then it didn't." Beat. "And won't now."

At least not for a very long time outside of time.

"Meaning whatever protected the Bar from the entropy out there expired. And then got renewed?

"And that was enough to reverse my death for the moment?" He knows it wasn't about him. But it's hard not to feel like it wasn't.

"I wouldn't say it was 'out there,'" she corrected, without any malice, still looking at it. "It is like everything here, everything that could or should, and even shouldn't, found itself on countdown course."

Her green eyes came back to him, at his question about his life. "It did restart a whole world outside of time that should have died. There is much to be said that might have worn through with it."

"I can't say I understand any of that. But I was never much for cosmology." Even with his penchant for questions, science was not his thing.

"I never thought I would be when I was younger," Jean said, an amused smile turning her mouth. "I had a friend who was very interested in all of it, and it went right over my head every single time he talked."

It hadn't stopped her from loving Hank. But it did make telepathy a god send sometimes.

"I guess I am like that. Though not proud to admit it." Knowledge is good. Even the stuff that isn't easy to follow.

"I can do my best not to," Jean offered, uninsulated by the parallel. Thinking then of the few years at the school before this last passing.

[ooc: gonna have to drop the thread till I ascertain Charlie's status. Many apologies.]

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