Counseling Session 1

Posted on Tue Oct 14th, 2025 @ 10:36am by Desmond Greene & Jean Grey-Summers

3,169 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Episode 7: Pathogens and Contagions
Location: Headmaster's Office
Timeline: TBD

For weeks now, Desmond had been feeling homesick. He had been keeping up a brave face around his friends. He'd joke with Joey, flirt with Maeve, and help Alaric around the tent. He did everything he usually did, and tried not to be a downer or be a reason for concern. But he was coming to the end of his rope. Every morning and every evening he had been crying under the shower. His desire to eat was minimal. He needed some help.

In the Before-Times he'd have gone to talk with Professor Xavier. The man had filled something of paternal role in Desmond's life, one his actual father had been too absent to fill before Desmond's transformation. But he had helped Miss Summers carry Professor Xavier down to the cryo-tubes, so he wasn't exactly available.

He knocked on the office door. "Miss Summers?" Desmond called, his voice strangely quiet.

With a phone to her ear, Jean looked up from her position behind Xavier’s desk and gestured for Desmond to enter while she continued to listen to someone on the line. “Yes, I can get you funding…” She said as she began to flip through a planner on her desk.

As Desmond entered the office, he was surrounded by a handful of telekinetic tasks being performed throughout the spacious room. Notes were taken by a floating pen and pad of paper to the side of Jean while two cups of tea were being poured in the back, as corner, flashy colored junk mail was being discarded from the important letters, and another log was thrown into the slow rolling fire.

“I can get you a check by the fifteen, will that keep your doors open?... Okay… good…yes, we’ll touch base at the end of next month. Can you have a better list of financial needs for the year by then?... Perfect… You too… Speak to you soon.” Jean hung up the phone and as she did so all the activity in the room stopped. The items stilled as her attention became focused on Desmond and Desmond alone.

“Hello Mr. Greene.” Jean responded with the same formality as he had provided. Despite her efforts to have them all call her by her first name, the title lingered out of respect. She looked up at him as he approached, her gaze was knowing and introspective in that way that only a telepath could provide. “Would you like to sit down and talk for a bit?”

"Yes ma'am." Desmond agreed. His voice was laced with doubt and worry. He was hesitant to move in, even after having requested the meeting and walking down to the office himself. Desmond wasn't a shy boy by any means, but being vulnerable was not something that came easy.

With a final click, he closed the door behind himself and found his way to the sofa. He perched himself upon it, just on the edge. His knees poked up awkwardly while Desmond folded his hands on his sloped lap. His eyes were roaming the floating objects all around the room. His gaze everywhere but on the woman he was there to talk. "Whenever I see powers like yours, or Maeve's, or Al, I always get a little jealous. You guys can make things float, and do all kinds of cool stuff."

“I love my mutant abilities but they aren’t without their limitations. Most people are afraid of me and I have to be careful not to get too emotional.” She offered him a small, reassuring smile as Jean watched him sit down on the couch. “You have your own strengths and assets, Desmond, that are both commendable and astonishing, don’t ever forget that.”

“But I don’t think you came here so I could remind you not to compare yourself to others.” Jean reached behind herself and picked up the two cups of tea that she had poured. She offered one to Desmond while keeping the other for herself. “What can I do for you today?”

Desmond couldn't match Jean's gaze as she praised his own talents. He had no trouble accepting praise for his accomplishments. His father always expressed his satisfaction whenever Desmond had won a football match, and his mother complimented him on his hard practice with the violin. But those were deeds, and not anything truly innate to Desmond.

He looked into the accepted tea cup, stiring it delicately with thumb and index finger. He was contemplating his words. He stalled a little longer as he took a sip of the hot tea before gently putting the cup down. "I want to go home." Desmond blurted out, deciding that he was done stalling. "I miss my family a lot, and it's getting hard to not be upset about it."

“Of course,” Jean replied with a sympathetic nod of her head. “All of you are free to go home whenever you would like to. Will it be just a visit or do you want to withdraw from Xavier’s and return to Connecticut permanently?"

"I don't think I can really go home though." Desmond disagreed. He reached out to a pillow on the sofa and wrapped his arms around it. His eyes had only left the cup for a moment to find the soft object to squeeze. "I'm a big walking, talking tree. Only way I'd be more obviously a mutant would be if I had a neon sign pointing at me. I freak people out, and we both know it's not getting better out there." His right arm vaguely gestured to the window, and beyond to the world beyond.

“It can be hard, I know a few others cannot go home either.” Jean said with a frown, it broke her heart when families abandon their children simply for being born different or because they could no longer provide care and safety for their child’s mutant needs. “But I wouldn’t deny you at least attempting to try if that’s what you really wanted to do and our door is always open no matter what happens.” She took a sip from her own tea cup as she considered how to help Desmond with his homesickness. “What are the things you are missing the most?”

"I miss just being at home, spending time with the family." Desmond answered with a sigh. "I miss my mom's cooking, my own bedroom, I miss my sisters." If forlorn had a name, in that moment it would have been Desmond. His tall frame had folded in on itself, just the hint of colour from the pillow he was still hugging. "But I also miss being able to play the violin, being able to play football. I miss all of it, my old life."

“The Welsh have a word for what you are feeling, they call it hiraeth.” Jean said with compassion in her voice. “It describes a profound, often melancholic, longing for a home, a place, a time, or a feeling that no longer exists or may never have existed. Hiraeth is more than simple homesickness or nostalgia; it's a deep, almost painful yearning, a sense of grief for lost places, and an intense emotional bond to a past that is gone or out of reach. I understand it too…” She idly placed a hand on the flat plane of her stomach, a husband now gone and a baby that never arrived. A home and a family that had been so close to reality for Jean before being ripped from her heart. “It hurts so much that it consumes you.”

Jean looked up at him with sadness in her eyes, the young man’s heart was breaking because he longed for the people who loved him. “I’m so sorry you’re away from them and fate gave you this struggle.”

She sighed softly and sat up straight, her own moment of sorrow leaving as she focused on Desmond and his pain. “You’ve already started taking steps in the right direction though… acknowledging and feeling your pain is the first step towards coping with it and hopefully easing it. And now we’re talking about it, which is the next thing you should do.” Jean weakly smiled at him in an attempt to cut through the gravity that filled the room. “So you’ve got good instincts and a good head on your shoulders.”

“If you can’t go home then let’s try to bring some of your home here and let’s try to find the things at Xavier’s that do make you feel safe and loved…” Jean leaned forward and rested her head on her hand so that it looked like she was sharing some big secret with Desmond. “You know that you’re Rahne’s favorite person, right? She absolutely adores you and thinks the world of you. She has a hard time trusting people, letting them in… but not you.”

Desmond was quiet for a long time. He was taking in Jean's words, processing them. He couldn't go back to what he had been, as much as he had wanted to. That truth hurt, deeply. But acknowledging that truth did take away its power, just a little.

Then Rahne was brought up. The little red headed, red blooded wolf girl of his nightmares and dreams. He rembered when they first met, how she'd taken to him like a duck to water. And he wasn't much different. She reminded him of all three of his sisters, obnoxious little squirts that they were. So Desmond sighed and righted himself. "Rahne's a good kid, bit crazy but that's what makes it fun right?" And Desmond's face had a small smile as he spoke about her. "Unless you're Kennedy and in a snowball fight."

“Rahne is one of the worst cases of neglect and abuse that I have ever seen at Xavier’s. Her mutation and being able to care for herself as an animal probably saved her life but at the same time it prolonged her time in that terrible situation… I wish we could have found her sooner.” Jean said with a remorseful sigh before she continued, “But the connection you have with her is special and one that wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t a mutant, if you could have stayed at home and continued with your previous life you never would have helped her heal.”

Jean paused for a moment as she thought about everyone at Xavier’s and the paths that brought them here, and in her own situation, back to the mansion. “I know fate can feel cruel sometimes, that the cards we’ve been dealt in life are terrible and unfair. But in those moments, I try to remember the good that comes from these situations. You’re making a difference in other people’s lives, you are helping them grow and understand who they are. You’re living proof that your mutation might change your physical appearance but it doesn’t change your heart.”

“It’s okay to be sad about the past, to mourn the loss of what was, but I encourage you to turn your face to the present and the future and focus on the new and special things that are before you. You do great and powerful things as an X-Men and you do great and powerful things as Desmond Greene, I am so happy and proud of you and the young man you are.” Jean smiled at him with warmth in her verdant green eyes. “I know we can never replace your home and your family… and we shouldn’t. But I do want you to know that you are wanted and appreciated here, not just by me but by everyone.”

Jean's words filled the room, and seemed to echo in Desmond's mind. On the one hand it filled him with warmth and pride. Someone he looked up to and looked to for guidance expressed praise for who he was, what he was, and what he did. Praise was a rare commodity in Desmond's life these days, and here it was given freely. It made him want to sit straight, square his shoulders. It made him feel strong.

But that same praise, that same warmth, also made him want to shove his feelings of loneliness away. To hide his anxieties. To bury his pain. He was strong, he had to be for his team, for Rahne, maybe even for Miss Summers. If you're wanted, it is because you are bringing something important. If you're bringing something important you can't be seen as weak.

But that didn't feel right either. Something about Miss Summers' words, that it's okay to feel what he feels did not agree with his instinct. If he didn't feel what he felt, how could he face what he needed to face? How could he find the other side of these feelings, and be okay? Desmond was an articulate young man, fairly capable of giving voice to his thoughts. Except this time it came out as a surprised "Huh."

Jean couldn’t help but smile wider as the gears turned inside of Desmond’s head, everyone had to come to their own conclusions in their own time if they were to be genuine. “Huh, indeed.”

She sat back in her large office chair and seemed rather pleased with Desmond’s realization despite his lack of words to support it. “You’re doing something really important, Desmond. Learning to recognize and sit with your feelings, especially the tough ones, takes a lot of courage. It’s not always easy, especially if you've been taught to hide or ignore what’s going on inside. But emotions aren’t weaknesses, they’re signals. They tell you something about your needs, your boundaries, your experiences, and the way the world is affecting you.

Even the emotions that feel uncomfortable like sadness, anger, fear, or frustration, they aren’t bad. They may not feel good, but they serve a purpose. Sadness helps you grieve and let go. Anger shows you when something isn't right. Fear reminds you to pay attention. These feelings are part of your internal compass. Ignoring them doesn’t make them go away, it just buries them until they come out another way, often louder.

So give yourself permission to feel them. Sit with them without judgment. You don’t have to analyze or fix everything right away, just being present with your emotions is a powerful step. It’s how you build emotional resilience. It’s how you learn what truly matters to you.”

"I think I'm slowly getting that." Desmond said in ready agreement. His mind had made a connection, it had created some more work for him to do. It wasn't something he was particularly excited about doing, but Miss Summers was right that it's something he should work on.

"It sounds a lot easier to do when you just describe how to do it." Desmond said with a little chuckle in his words. The weight that had burdened him had not yet dissipated, but acknowledging the content of that weight did make it feel more manageable. "This isn't going to be an easy lesson to learn, is it though?"

“No, it isn’t,” Jean admitted with the same honesty she provided to all the students of Xavier’s. “But then again, most things that are worth doing require hard work to achieve.” She stood up and walked over to him as their conversation concluded and offered to take his tea cup back. “Spend some time with yourself Desmond, and when you’re ready to talk about it some more we can reconvene.”

She placed a hand on his broad shoulder, a gentle supportive touch to remind him he wasn’t alone in all of this. “What is a dinner that you miss from home?”

He handed her the still full cup of tea back. It had cooled down, completely forgotten by Desmond. "Yes ma'am. Thank you." He felt tired, exhausted even. He had peaked into the cauldron of his emotions, and it drained his reserves empty. He just wanted to get up when he felt her hand.

The touch reinforced him. he hadn't realized that he was not only tired, but perhaps a little adrift. It was just enough of an anchoring force to keep him here.

"Garlic pork chops with a baked potato? My mom always made that for Christmas, and I missed out this year." Desmond had a moderately goofy grin on his face as he admitted what he missed in that moment.

“Okay, I can do that.” Jean nodded her head in agreement with his meal of choice. While she was often busy she made the effort to feed the students dinner whenever possible and always on Sunday night. She had learned how to cook as a teenager and she had often fed the First Class during their formative years. It was an act of service Jean continued to provide as a way for her to show them that she cared. “I don’t think mine will hold a candle to your mom’s but I will try to make something that at least reminds you of home. And who knows, if it’s good enough maybe I can add it into the rotation?”

She ran her hand across his shoulders as she leaned in to find his eyes. “And don’t forget to be gentle with yourself, Desmond. You are a dynamic individual and despite your desire to remain strong it is okay to feel weak and lost sometimes. Even Scott struggled with these feelings and needed someone to confide in. I promise you it’s normal and you’ll be healthier for facing them but it’s okay to move at a pace that feels right for you. There’s no deadline, no predetermined expectations, okay?”

"Thank you. I'm looking forward to dinner even more." Desmond smiled more genuinely now. But there was also an effort to reestablish his facade, to reassert his confident exterior. He had taken in lessons today, lessons that needed to be integrated and absorbed. He needed some alone time to do that.

Then he was reminded of the mentor-figures that rested in stasis under their feet. During his time here in the Mansion and with the X-Men it was Scott that had quietly tried to teach him various skills. Ways to fight, ways to help protect his teammates. His facade chipped in that moment.

Desmond got up from the couch. Like most big movements, he did so carefully. His voice cracked as he spoke, "I'll try to keep this all in mind. I'm not as strong as Mister Summers, but I'll try my best to learn this lesson."

"I know you will Desmond," Jean agreed with him as she stood along with him and telekinetically opened the door to her office, "Because I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

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