xp_logs | Nathan and Haroun, Sunday afternoon (Reply)

Having been cleared for light sparring, Nathan meets Haroun in the gym to see just how badly out of shape he is. And he is, but there's a deeper problem as well.

He wasn't looking forward to this.

It would be tempting to blame it on his generally unsettled state of mind these last few days, the still unmade decision about What To Do about his no-longer-long-lost father, but that would be dishonest. He knew better. The butterflies in his stomach had taken up residence sometime around breakfast time, worsening the more he'd thought about coming down here and meeting Haroun for his first sparring session since before the Youra mission. Even his hands were unsteady. If he didn't know better, he would have said he was nervous.

But nervous? About a little hand-to-hand? Most likely painfully slow hand-to-hand, because he doubted Haroun was going to come at him full-speed the first morning back.

This made no sense.

Haroun was in the Gym well before Nathan was scheduled to arrive. He was warming up with a little shadowboxing, some quick one-two-three action against an imaginary foe. When Nathan walked into the room, he looked up and grinned. "Hey. Welcome back to sparring. Go ahead and get warmed up, let me know when you're ready."

"Okay," Nathan said neutrally. Stretching properly had become even more of a critical necessity since his injury - no more shorting on that part if at all humanly possibly. The warm-up should help settle him down.

Or not.

Haroun watched Nate go through the end of his stretching routine with concern. This was not a good sign. "You ready?" he asked, determined to keep things extra-light. "Point-sparring only. Light contact." he said, droppng into an easy guard position. He would let Nathan take the first strike.

Nathan nodded, but didn't otherwise respond as he stepped onto the mats with Haroun. Focus, damn it. Like riding a bike. These skills had been drilled into him so hard, there was no way he could have lost them in a couple of months. Really.

Slow. He was so damned slow, still. He could gauge Haroun's defensive posture, knew precisely what sort of attack to counter with - that part was no problem. It was just... doing it, and even as he did, he knew Haroun had to have noticed the hesitation.

The hesitation was just painful. Haroun would have expected this from a trainee, but not Nathan. Within a few minutes, he had easily scored a half-dozen touches to Nathan's none, and he wasn't even trying all that hard. "Come on, man, you're better than this. Even as rusty as you are." He stepped back to give Nathan a little bit of room. "You sure you've been medically cleared for this?"

"For light sparring, yes," Nathan said, a little frustration creeping into his voice as he backed off for a moment, trying to regroup. He couldn't seem to move right - it was like his body knew where and how he ought to move, but ran into resistance when he tried. "I'm just... rusty. Let's try it again."

Faster, this time. His jaw clenched and he pushed harder, forcing past the resistance, making himself get in closer. His heart was hammering in his chest, not at all justified by the minimal exertion so far.

Haroun blocked all of Nathan's strikes easily, and just to test his reactions, snuck in a quick and not-quite-as-light-as-the-others kick to Nathan's floating ribs. The he pulled back to gauge Nate's reaction.

The kick landed, and Nathan stumbled back out of range, trying futilely to clamp down on the momentary surge of panic. Hoping it didn't reflect on his face, because Haroun was watching him like a hawk. He straightened, swallowing, clenching his hands into fists to hide their unsteadiness.

"All right, tell me what's wrong. You're flinching. You never used to flinch." Haroun said flatly. "You're not fooling me, so stop trying."

Nathan opened his mouth to snap at him - but then stopped, swallowing again and taking a deep breath before he answered. "I don't know," he said, tightly but more calmly than not. "I don't flinch. I mean, I shouldn't be flinching... it's not rational. I've been doing this for too long. This shouldn't be happening."

"Fair enough. For the interim, though, I think continued sparring is a Bad Idea for you. At least until you can go get yourself checked out. Take your Earl Grey like a man, go talk to Charles." he said flatly. "Because right now you're a mess. Heart rate is way up, unless I miss my guess, and your hands are shaking."

"Fuck. This is stupid." Nathan shook his head and went over to sit down on the bench against the wall. His hands were shaking, Haroun was right, and he couldn't seem to stop them. He stared down at them, half in bewilderment, half-angrily. "This has got to be just getting-back-on-the-horse nerves."

"It's not stupid. I've seen strong men break trying to come back from the kind of beating you took." he said sympathetically. "Let's face it - you have been through a hell of a lot lately. Maybe this is your mind's way of telling you to ease down, get your feet back underneath you. Catch your breath."

Oh, Jack was going to have a field day with this... "Walk before I run? I thought I was doing that." Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, running over a meditative pattern in his mind until his breathing and his heartrate slowed back down. "Two different problems, I think," he said, keeping his eyes closed. "The hesitation's maybe just rustiness, and I know I'm not properly in shape yet." Although a proper fitness regimen like the one Jean was drawing up for him would take care of that quickly enough. "But I... flinched," he said, opting for Haroun's word rather than the less dignified but more accurate 'panicked', "when you went on the attack."

"You did." Haround said flatly. "And you know that I'm not out to hurt you delibrately, not when you're so new coming off injured reserve. So I have to conclude that hand-to-hand bothers you. Want to try weapons instead?"

Nathan looked up at him, the idea drawing him back out of his troubled bewilderment. "Staffs, maybe?" he said, getting up. Would give him a little more distance. Maybe that was the problem.

Haroun shrugged. "I was going to suggest knives, but you're addicted to your big wooden shaft. I can tell." he said with a smirk. "So let's try that."

Nathan actually cracked a smile as he fetched two of the practice staffs. "Let's not get off on that again," he said, tossing one to Haroun. The Askani murmured softly - almost soothingly - in the back of his mind, and he felt himself relaxing a little at the feel of the staff in his hands. It wasn't his psimitar, but, close enough.

Haroun winced. "You just had to phrase it that way, didn't you?" In his mind, poorly-shielded, he felt a hot stab of regret that he'd never know what that felt like. Twirling his staff, he grinned ferally at Nathan. "I'll even gve you the first shot."

Nathan's smile turned a little rueful, and he gave Haroun a quick look of apology before he took him up on his offer. A little better, he noticed immediately. He still wasn't moving like he should, but it felt more natural. Less of the resistance.

Haroun blocked, and then counterattacked with a fast foot-sweep with his stick. He wanted to see how Nathan would react to having his legs swept out from under him.

Nathan tried to sidestep it, but his reaction was too slow and he had to content himself with falling properly, rather than crashing awkwardly to the mats. He managed the former, but the impact was hard enough to leave him fighting to catch his breath for a moment, and as Haroun came back into his field of vision he froze.

Haroun held his stick at the attack position, then snapped it down at Nathan's head. He stopped the stick just before it got to Nathan's forehead. "Bang. You're dead." he said with a sadistic grin.

Nathan gritted his teeth and hauled himself back to his feet, wincing. He'd kept his grip on his staff, at least. That was something. "Uh-huh," he said, and launched himself at Haroun again, doggedly. Keep him on the defensive and he wouldn't be able to do that again. I am NOT getting knocked down again.

Haroun blocked, feinted a strike at Nathan's head, and then swept the legs. Again.

He didn't fall as well this time, and he hit the mats hard enough that he didn't have the breath to curse. "Are you having," he wheezed, pushing himself up to his hands and knees, "a good time?"

Haroun shrugged. "Not really, considering usually when I try that you beat me senseless." he said. "Something is definitely wrong with your reactions."

"I'm just... rusty." Nathan hauled himself upright, bringing his staff back to a guard position. "Slow. Only way to fix that is to work on it."

Haroun shrugged. "I don't think it'll be that simple, but I'd be happy to be proven wrong." he said, then attacked again. Slowly. To try to gauge Nathan's reflexes - and how shot they were in actuality.

The sustained pressure, however slow in pace, had him badly on edge again almost immediately. Slow, he told himself - Haroun was taking it slow. He could keep up. But the blocking moves came harder than they should have, even at a snail's pace, and his heart was racing again as he had to give ground. Can't give ground, part of him snarled almost desperately, you know that...

Haroun sighed, and sped up enough to disarm Nathan entirely. "OK, this is just sad. I know you've been out for a while and you want to get back in the saddle. Good idea, I approve. But this is _not the way_. For God's sake, Nathan, a month or two ago you were a stone-cold merc, now you shake like a schoolgirl! Something is not right here."

"Then what is the way?" Nathan snapped at him. He shook his hands, willing the sting away. "Beginners get over their twitchiness by doing." And that's what he'd have to do. That simple. Get back on the horse.

"You sit down with Charles. You drink your damned tea, and you talk to the man. Get yourself checked out body and mind. Something's not right, man. Something hasn't mended, and I don't want to see you break yourself by trying to push too hard too fast!" he barked.

"For fuck's sake," Nathan swore, more at himself than Haroun as he bent, a bit awkwardly, to pick up his staff where it had landed. "My powers check out as fine. I'm acing the damned tactical reviews... I know I'm not in shape, but I'll get there!"

And none of it meant a damn if he couldn't handle hand-to-hand combat. Frustration surged up inside him and for a moment he was seriously tempted to throw the staff. Probably through the wall. But he squelched the urge brutally, trying to blank his expression as he turned back to Haroun.

"If you'll permit me to drop into Tyler Durden, you are not your powers. You are not your tactical skill. You are not a delicate and unique snowflake," Haroun quoted. "Don't make me make it official, Cable." he said. "I want to help you - I'll do whatever I have to - but I'm not convinced that this is the right thing to be doing right now."

"Shit." The curse was quieter, but no less vehement this time. Nathan moved back to the weapons rack a bit stiffly - the second fall was going to leave bruises - to replace the staff. "I suppose it's the predictable thing," he said, almost bitterly. "That hallway on Youra. I guess I should be glad I'm not having flashbacks and trying to put you through the wall telekinetically. Must be improving, huh?"

"I'm very glad for that." he said, running his hand over his scalp. Crap. Stubble. He needed to shave. Dismissing the thought, he returned his attention to Nathan. "Look, man, I'm not trying to bust your stones or piss on your recovery parade. But I want you to be smart about it."

"Because learning how to fake it, but then freezing out in the field, would be bad," Nathan said almost by rote. "Yeah. I know." He rubbed at his shoulder, unable to help a sigh. "I hope to hell Charles has some suggestions, because I don't know how to deal with this. I've been hurt before. Never wound up this nervous afterwards."

"Well, judging by your file you've been chewed up that badly once before, and it took you, what, years to recover from that fully? Give it time, man. Most mere mortals would be in traction still, not up and around and contemplating sparring against an old pro like me." he grinned.

Nathan muttered something vaguely uncomplimentary under his breath, rotating the sore shoulder. "I've never been taken down hand-to-hand like that," he said quietly. "Like I was back on Youra, I mean. Not by sheer weight of numbers, when I couldn't fight back with everything I had..."

"First time for everything." he said softly. "Come on, let's get out of the Gym for once and go do something out there. Spot you the first game of pool at Harry's?" he offered with a smile. "Better yet, invite Alison and make an outing of it?"

Out for a while. Sounded like a plan. "I think I could manage that," Nathan said, using a flicker of telekinesis to tug lightly at Haroun's staff. Haroun let it go and it floated back over to join the other on the rack. "Need to go get showered, though, first..."

"Let's go get cleaned up, meet up at the front door in, say, a half-hour? Better make it an hour, Alison's been complaining of turning into a candidate for Goodyear Blimp-dom lately."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Goodyear... Blimp. Uh-huh." He made a mental note not to ask her about that. "An hour, then." He looked back over his shoulder at the weapons rack, shaking his head. Later, he told himself.

"It's not pretty." he groaned. "You have not known true fear until you've known Alison Blaire on the warpath." he shuddered. "Catch you in an hour."