2013.08.16 - How's Your Head?

How does a person sort out thoughts and memories that shouldn't make sense? Time... and patience.

It's not the first time that Kwabena hasn't numbed his tough thoughts with liquor, or something else, and it certainly won't be the last. You see, there are things that bourbon will repair, and there are things it won't. Well into the afternoon of his second day back on the mansion grounds, he has spent the entire time in the War Room. He hasn't touched the computers, nor has he used any of the technology the place provides. He simply needed the solitude. Sitting before him on the large conference table there is nothing more than a glass of water and a pad of paper.

The paper has been scribbled with all sorts of messages, both long and short, and all written in Dangme.

Jean has spent much, though not all, of her time in the science lab, giving the African mutant his space. As the day begins to wind down, however, she decides it's best to come check in on him. Just in case?

Well, that, and she needs to use the war room computers for some analysis. Situational analysis, that is. Not scientific.

Her steps are clipped, but soft as the door whooshes open. She pauses a moment, regarding him for a moment. Then, she enters properly. "Hey," she greets lightly, giving him a small smile. "How's your head?"

She doesn't really need to ask the question, given she's been sensing it through the walls all day. But, sometimes it's better to let people vocalize such things on their own.

Looking up, Kwabena doesn't seem to mind Jean's entrance. "Feels like new," he quips.

Which, clearly, couldn't be further from the truth.

Scooting the pad of paper away and over toward Jean, he leans back into the chair with a long-suffered sigh. "It's like trying to pull apaht a bowl of spaghetti without tearing any of de pasta." He gestures toward the paper; in addition to the scribbling of words, there are also sketches of things pulled from his memory. Mostly of actions he was none too proud of.

"I'm coming to realize dat I should not hold mahself responsible for dese actions." He turns to Jean with a frown. "But dere are some who will."

Jean nods to him, giving a wry smile. "There are. However, it's as much my fault as yours." Not, mind, that she wants to play the blame game anytime soon. "And, at the end of the day, you can't control what other people think." She'd say 'no one can', but that's not true, as she's so amply shown over the past few weeks. "You can only do the best you can with what you've got in the moment."

Truer words?

She moves, now, toward one of the consoles, booting up the main screen as she starts inputting some cross-reference searches into the local machine.

"The bigger problem, frankly, is how to deal with Magneto moving forward." A beat. "You can't really go see him again. Certainly not until I have a chance to find a psi-inhibitor for you." Preferably one that doesn't use any metal parts.

"And yet," notes Kwabena, "I am seeing something in myself. That I have de potential to become dis, and so much more. Pahaps if I hadn't made some of de choices I made, de good choices?" He nods toward the notepad. "Dat could have been de natural outcome."

There is a tone of acceptance and finality in his voice, and he rises from the chair to join Jean at the compute console.

"He'll be looking for me," points out Kwabena. He turns an eye toward Jean with the conspiratory lift of an eyebrow. "He came all de way to San Diego simply to collect me, even when de eyes of de world were on him."

Turning to face her fully, Kwabena leans up against a nearby wall, folding his arms. "You've got something in mind. Don't you?"

"There, but by the grace of God..." Jean says with a rueful smile in response to Kwabena's self-analysis. "That reminds me." She shoves her hand into her pocket and pulls out the rosary Kurt gave him so long ago. "It's time I returned this to you." She crosses over to the Ghanian and takes his hand gently, placing the warm wooden beads and small crucifix against his palm. "He'd never forgive me, if I didn't."

Once that's out of the way, however, she returns to business. "But, yeah. I do." An image of Genosha appears on screen just about that moment and she turns to glance at it. "As near as I can tell," she says, "this is roughly the lay of the political landscape on the island." She lets out a sharp breath. "At least, it is according to the most recent news reports." Which may or may not, she knows, reflect reality. Certainly there are some errors in the map, but the overall scope is good enough. "The Human-Mutant Alliance is going to have an election sometime soon. The UN, through SHIELD, has put observers on the ground to monitor the process," and the display shows a US carrier group in international waters just beyond the island, "but you and I both know how easy it'll be to snowball them. Too, there's a huge chance one of Magneto's sympathizers may end up with the lion's share of the vote -- if he doesn't throw his own hat into the ring." She wrinkles her nose. "Any way you look at it, it's shaping up to be another bloody civil war. But, if left unopposed by those of us with the actual power to counter him, Magneto will win simply by sheer weight of power." She looks at Shift, now, and gives a small smile. "The Alliance needs a Millenium Falcon crew to stop the Emperor from activating his Death Star..." If she can be forgiven the pop culture reference.

A freshly sobered expression comes to Kwabena when she gives him the rosary. His hand curls around the object carefully, and while he doesn't look Jean in the eye to acknowledge the act, there's no shortage of gratitude in his heart. "No," is his simple answer. Kurt would never forgive her.

"De news media has nevah been honest," he points out, mirroring her thoughts. He nods along to Jean's assessment, his brow drawn in thought.

An odd look is granted given the pop culture reference, but the African keeps his commentary to himself. "Magneto loves chess," he points out. "He will use a pawn to claim what is not his, and dere is a strong chance dis pahson will show sympathies to Homo Sapien. Gain dere trust, den turn dat trust to de oddah side, from de inside out." He gestures meaningfully. "Adolf Hitlah."

Jean nods to that. "Yes. That's assuming he doesn't just send Mystique in to masquerade as the perfect candidate." It wouldn't be the first time. "And that's the problem. We accurate intel of what's going on over there. You can provide some of that, I believe, but not everything. The Brotherhood has, unless I miss my guess, a whole network of mutants effectively acting as psi-cops. His very own SS, for lack of a better term. We need to counter that. We need to shore up the resistance, reinforce the people trying to maintain their independence, and run interference between them and anyone looking to manipulate them."

Now, she meets Kwabena's eyes. "In short, we need to foster the Maquis to the Brotherhood's SS. We need a team there, working with the humans and the free mutants against Bastion."

Kwabena's lip curls a bit at the mention of Mystique. "I don't know if dat woman is a telepath, but I could swear she can smell when I'm nearby. It's too bad Sex Panthah isn't a real fragrance."

Leaving the terminal for a moment, he grabs a chair and brings it over, flopping it onto the floor before taking a seat. "SHIELD may be a problem," he notes. "Directah Fury will be prepared for a snowballing. And he'll let it happen. He's not intahrested in doing de UN's job for him. Dat's lip sahvice to de NSA and de intahnational community. He only wants to be dere so dat SHIELD can gathah intelligence. I have contacts in SHIELD, but if we ah going to use dem, dere may be some compromises we would need to make. Dey could be a strong ally, Doctah, but I am not sure how touching Fury would find it to know dat de X-Men exist. Unless I am mistaken, our very existence is quite illegal."

Catching the metaphor, Kwabena nods his head slowly. "And if an end game happens, we must be prepared to deal with de worst possible repercussions." A dark expression crosses his eye. "Weapons will be useless. If Magneto brings war, if he brings massacre, den de theatre will burst beyond Genosha. De world will need to know de truth, and we have to be prepared to expose dat." He pauses. "It's not an easy contingency to prepah for, but if we don't, all of dis could be useless."

"She's no telepath," Jean says with certainty. She's tangled with her too recently to not be sure. Doesn't make the woman any less formidable, however. Especially since it took all Jean had plus a boost from Axiom to allow her to break through the metamorph's natural psychic defenses.

"And I have no intention of revealing ourselves to SHIELD," she tells him firmly. "But, there's no harm in presenting as resistance fighters and 'concerned citizens'. SHIELD won't like it, but now is not the time for the X-Men to go public."

"But, you're right. We're going to need a few big guns in place. That's why I want you to take Rachel and Jocelyn with you, for sure. Frankly, I want you and Rachel to act as the leaders of this squad. She has powers that very nearly rival my own." The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all. And that predator in her head is freakin' scary, though Jean doesn't say it. Still, if the beast can be tamed enough to work for them rather than against them? So much the better.

"Rachel and I had a long time to talk when we came to get you in Connecticut," she tells him. "She's smart. She's still settling in to this timeline, and some of her memories do skew her current perceptions, but I think the pair of you can keep each other grounded -- not to mention keep the others on track." She smiles sharply, now. "Too, there's something to be said for bringing along your own telepathic heavy hitter. The psi cops will be hard pressed to breach her defenses. Between that and the new ceramic-polymer based inhibitor models I've been working on, you may have at least a ghost of a chance."

She returns her gaze to him. "Participation in this, Kwabena, is entirely voluntary -- for you, for her, for Jocelyn, and for whomever else you want to recruit into it. Frankly, I'd like to come with you, but it's smarter for me to remain here to coordinate." Not to mention the fact she's got the juice to pull their asses out of the fire, if things get too hot, and can pull in back up of her own to solidify that reality.

A dutiful nod is given when Jean acknowledges that this is not the time to expose the X-Men to the public.

And now, the real mission is laid out before him. Kwabena looks back to the computer console for a moment, chewing on his lip as he considers the task at hand.

"She is," he acknowledges, agreeing that Rachel is smart. Beyond that, he's come to trust her quickly, which is certainly saying something for a man that holds his trust very close. She followed his lead with Isaac's cohorts, and she saw through the melodrama in mutant town enough to contact Jean and pull Kwabena out; a move that may have saved his life and given them another shot at hampering Magneto's efforts.

"We seem to be cut from similah roots," he acknowledges. "And if she can help to block our enemies from reading my thoughts, den pahaps dis has a chance of working." He says nothing directly of whether or not they could keep each other grounded, but there's something to be said about similar people working together for a common goal. The same could be said of Jocelyn.

A new respect is formed in Kwabena for Jean Grey. The woman clearly knows what she is doing.

"Let me speak with Rachel. Find out where she is on dis. Jocelyn trusts me. She'd follow me to hell and back, I believe, if she felt it was de right thing to do."