Dear Jean

Note: This short story is a letter written from thief Emil Lapin to his friend Jean Summers. The background to this is that a few months ago, Jean and Scott moved to Alaska, and since then, the Guilds have only seen Jean once. This is the plot PJ and I ended our RPGs with. The secondary idea I've been working on lately is Emil's newfound powers. He has inherited Tante Mattie's emphatic abilities, as well as his own special visionary powers that allow him to see the future in dreams. Yeah it's weird, but I'm bored. Gotta do something with my time, right? Also please keep in mind that this is fiction and I really have no way of knowing what could happen in the future.

Dear Jeannie,

I know dis is a little weird...but somehow dis is all I can bring myself to do. I promised myself de last time I saw you dat I wouldn' do anythin' like dis 'gain, because de last t'ing I wan' do is bother you in your new life. It's been hard t'ough, b'cause it seems like every time one of us turns around, somethin' happens dat makes us want to get in touch wit' you. But like me, de others have all made de same promise not to bother you. Guess I'm de first one to break it. I guess it figures, huh.

As you prob'ly know, I'm in Westchester right now...bein' cared for by Dr. McCoy. Somehow I managed to get bronchitis, so I literally can' stop coughin'. It hasn' been a pleasant few days, to say de least. Theoren, Mercy, Claude an' Genard are here wit' me but everyone else, includin' Jean-Pierre, who is doin' fine in case you wanted to know, is home in New Orleans. But I'm not writin' to you to tell you 'bout havin' bronchitis. Seems I get sick every few months, it's nothin' new anymore.

I know everyone' gettin' frustrated wit' me, but I can' help it. I know Candra's determined to try an' help me, God love her, but I almost feel like I don' wan' any help...I don' know what to' I can' talk 'bout it.

I had a few visions de other night, while I also had a fever. Dey were really vivid, an' really hard for me to deal wit'. Dey were horrible images of de future, an' de emotional influx dat accompanied dem was so powerful, wit' so many different minds attatched to it, dat all de mental blocks I have couldn' stop de pain. I was in such emotional shock an' trauma dat I did de only t'ing I could t'ink of to get away from it. I started to put myself into a coma. I almost succeeded, but de others, Professor Xavier an' Dr. McCoy stopped me. Of course, me being the stubborn Cajun I am, I've been refusin' to talk to anyone since I woke up de next day. I've been successful in keepin' de professor out of my mind, an' I won' talk to anyone. Theo said in his journal he got de feelin' my own consciousness has been replaced by a haunted shell of a person. In a sense I guess dat's true, but I'm still here. I'm jus' not communicatin'.

Jean...I...I don' know what to do 'bout dis. What I saw in my visions, I mean. What I saw was so vivid, so' what's worse is, I know it's gon' happen if somethin' isn' done. Dis is more real an' effects more people dan any other visions I've ever had. It effects de whole country an' maybe de whole world. I can' really tell you what it is, but I know if somethin' isn' done to stop it, we're gon' see a lot more t'ings like what happened on 9-11.

It's horrible dat I can' talk 'bout it, but I really can'. I guess dat's why I stopped talkin'. I have a feelin' de professor knows what I saw, but I don' know how much he can do to help stop de events from happenin'.

If I wasn' me...if I was some normal person...I could go to de government an' warn dem. Tell dem to be careful. Go on international television an' warn everyone to be careful. But if I do dat, I'll get arrested an' de whole Guild, Remy included, will get arrested too. Possibly even Tante Mattie for her involvement wit' us. Cheryl an' Jean-Pierre would be placed in foster care an' we'd never see dem 'gain. B'cause after all we've done in our lives in de Guilds, we'd be locked away for life, or worse, put on death row an' eventually killed. I don' wan' risk dat happenin', not when we're finally startin' to be happy for de first time ever.

I almost feel kinda bad dat I'm puttin' de lives of a few criminals above de lives of hundreds, thousands...maybe even millions...of people around de country an' de world but I can' help it. I'm loyal to my fam'ly first an' everyone else second. Maybe dat makes me a bad person, but part of me don' care.

I'm sorry...Dieu...I shouldn' have written dis. Dis will only worry you...burden you...I didn' mean to do dat...but in spite of not bein' able to talk 'bout it an' not wantin' to talk to anyone here, period, I jus' felt like you should know 'bout it. Jus' for de sake of it, I suppose. I am sorry. I wouldn' blame you if you ignored dis letter or threw it out or somethin'. I'd prob'ly do dat in your place. It's not really worth much. I guess I jus' had to get it off my chest.

I hope you an' Scott are enjoyin' yourself in Alaska. Take care of yourselves, okay? An' don' worry 'bout'll work out somehow. Tante Mattie says everythin' always does.

Love Emil

In spite of his misgivings about actually sending the letter, Emil Lapin addressed the envelope and put the letter inside it, making a face at it after he licked the seal and closed it up. He then put the letter on the table beside his bed in the MedLab and waited. He still wasn't talking to anyone, but somehow he had managed to convey to Dr. McCoy that he wanted paper, a pen and an envelope, which the furry blue doctor had readily given him.

Ten minutes after the letter was finished, Dr. McCoy returned to the room to check on his patient. He saw the letter on the desk and picked it up. Emil looked at him thoughtfully, wondering if the doctor would mail it for him.

"My assumptions were correct, I see." Dr. McCoy smiled to Emil, who tilted his head in confusion, unsure what the doctor was talking about. Seeing Emil's confusion, the doctor laughed. "I had a feeling you wanted to write to Jean. I'm happy to see I was correct."

Emil merely sighed and looked away, downcast. Dr. McCoy smiled at his patient sympathetically. "I know you miss her, Emil. You shouldn't feel bad about that. It's perfectly natural."

Emil coughed a few times, which prompted Dr. McCoy to give him more medicine. Before the doctor left the room again, he assured Emil the letter would be sent that afternoon.

Giving the doctor a half-hearted smile as he watched him leave, Emil sighed again. He knew nothing would come of the letter, and at that point he didn't even know why he'd written it. He knew Jean would want to know what was going on, but there was really nothing she could, or would, do about it. She had her own life now. Emil sighed one last time before stretching out and getting as comfortable as he could in the bed and closing his eyes.