Nathan and Charles, Monday morning
Jul. 25th, 2005 12:21 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsNathan gets an invitation to tea. Telepaths need a specific kind of debriefing at times, especially when the telepath in question isn't used to being psi-on-the-spot to the extent that Nathan was on Saturday night.
The fatigue was being slower to fade than Nathan had expected, especially given that he had spent most of the time since Saturday night more or less stationary, leaving the suite only to do the occasional walk-past Alison's door, as well as check on his teammates from Saturday night and the girls. He had been half-tempted to call it a psionic hangover the morning after, but the headache had gone away fairly quickly, and there'd been nothing else that really classed as hangover symptoms, so the rather amusing designation wasn't really appropriate. Pity.
What had lingered was a strange lightheadedness, and an awareness of the minds around him that was subtly altered from what it had been three days ago. Thoughts had more... definition than they'd had before. Sharper-edged, more vivid, easier to distinguish. The background roar was still there, would always be there, but it was noticeably easier to find and focus on a single mind, pick it out of the noise. He would have tried to push his range a little, but he suspected very strongly that doing so wouldn't help him feel less tired. Maybe in a couple of days.
The invitation from Charles had come earlier this morning, when he'd been entertaining himself by painting a few more stencils on the nursery ceiling. Nathan had responded in the affirmative, finished the one stencil - of a sailboat; Moira had had a few specific requests - and then made his somewhat slow way downstairs to the sunroom, grabbing the stack of stencils on a whim as he left. Conversational piece, if nothing else. By the time he got there, tea was waiting. Of course.
"Good afternoon," was the calm greeting. Charles had wheeled his chair by the window, smiling faintly at the antics of the children outside, who had somehow procured a water hose and a bevy of water guns and were putting them to good use. "I trust the rest is doing you good?"
Nathan settled into one of the chair, unable to quite help a faint sigh. "I think so. I'm a little out of it, still, but I'm assuming that'll pass." He gave the tea a mildly suspicious look, then swiped one of the cookies off the plate. "I've been out to check on people a few times. Otherwise, just reading and doing a little painting." He extended the stencils to Charles. "Moira likes the idea of plenty of visual stimulation."
Accepting the stencils, Charles flipped through them carefully, giving each one equal attention. "That is indeed a very good idea." If his lips quirked slightly at some passing thought, he didn't elaborate. "I rather like the lighthouse one myself, I must say." The color staining the sides gave away the details, and Charles nodded approvingly.
"I suppose I could have asked one of the more artistically inclined around here to do it for me, but, well..." He'd wanted to do them himself. Nathan shifted a little in the chair. "You're all right?" he thought to ask, remembering how exhausted Charles had been after the events of the weekend.
A knowing look was directed at him over the stencil of the lighthouse, before the whole stack was handed back to him gravely. "I'm doing better. Rest is a telepath's friend and a simple screening of Alison's mind to keep things manageable for the empaths in the mansion isn't a strain for me, just yet." He sipped his tea, for a moment, looking grave.
Nathan set the stencils aside, then wondered if he shouldn't maybe just bow to the inevitable. The teapot levitated smoothly, filling the other cup, which floated over to his hand, and all before he'd quite finished making the decision. "I could... help, if it gets to be," he said a bit vaguely. "I think. If I understand the technique right..."
"Of course you could." The reply was matter of fact, Charles seemingly taking the offer and all it implied entirely in stride. "But not just yet and I think perhaps in a few days it won't be needed at all, at least during the day." Pensively, Charles considered the offer further nonetheless. "Perhaps tomorrow, depending on how sensitive you're still feeling, I might be inclined to take you up on that for a few hours, though. Should you insist." He smiled a bit at that.
"All right," Nathan said, making a mental note to insist. "And sensitive? Is that what this is?" That made sense. He was oversensitized. He sipped at his tea, silent for a long moment. Then: "How precisely did I do all of that?" It was the question that part of him had been asking ever since, and all of him had gotten a good smack upside the head from Moira when she'd heard him wondering about it on the link. Not that she'd known precisely what he'd done, just that he'd exhausted himself doing it...
"In the most simplest of terms... your hesitancy and unease with your telepathic abilities became overshadowed by your need to make use of them." Motion outside caught their attention, briefly, children racing by, screeching happily. When Nathan looked back at Charles, a slight smile was still present. "You always were capable of all that, Nathan. You were just... uninclined to attempt it."
Nathan thought about it for a few moments. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he said slowly. "Things have been... heading in that direction for a while now." The link he'd formed with the other telepaths, four of them unwilling, on Youra. Fighting the telepath in
the tunnels, successfully blurring the minds of the soldiers at the camp in Chad... even mastering that switchboard trick. Everything he had done with his telepathy recently - everything he had been training to do, if he was going to be scrupulously honest here - had been leading towards him working actively as a telepath in the field.
But the thought made him uneasy, even so. "It's funny," he said almost absently. "All that talk about psionics and ethics last week, and I think what's nagging at me the most is how to adjust my own thinking, if this is really the sort of thing I can do." So much more than just having an alternate means of communication and an early warning system. So much more complex.
"That will come on its own way, Nathan, given time. You're not required to adapt to every single change on the spot." The word anymore wasn't spoken, though it lingered briefly for a moment between them. "You have the knowledge. The rest will follow as it should, when it should."
"I was..." Nathan paused, grimacing. "It's getting easier. Maybe just because I do it when it needs to be done... and maybe that's not a bad thing? I shouldn't be at ease enough to be using it casually. Should I?" He could have slapped himself. Nothing like begging for reassurance.
"I think you already know the answer to that question, Nathan, from your own instinctive approach to the matter." If Charles' attention wavered then, slightly, it was only for a heartbeat and barely noticeable and he reached for his tea as though nothing had happened. "The chocolate chip cookies are underneath the raisin and oatmeal ones, I believe."
Nathan peered at the plate of cookies and they shifted, a chocolate chip cookie emerging. "I suppose I do," he said quietly, not missing Charles' momentary distraction. "Just like I know where all the unease comes from. I am... getting better about it, though." All he had to do to reassure himself of that was to remember himself a year ago, how terrified he had been of even speaking to Charles.
"You are indeed. And you're giving yourself the room to do so at your own pace far much so, these days. It's a nice thing to see," Charles said casually enough, reaching out to select a cookie for himself as well.
Something struck Nathan. "If..." He stopped, smiled. "I can help Rachel more," he said more quietly. "I hadn't thought of it that way."
"Indeed you can. And that is after all how you've progressed thus far, wouldn't you say?" The calm and serene smile that often followed moments where someone had made great progress lingered, for a moment, before the cup of tea obscured it as Charles took a near meditative sip of tea.
The fatigue was being slower to fade than Nathan had expected, especially given that he had spent most of the time since Saturday night more or less stationary, leaving the suite only to do the occasional walk-past Alison's door, as well as check on his teammates from Saturday night and the girls. He had been half-tempted to call it a psionic hangover the morning after, but the headache had gone away fairly quickly, and there'd been nothing else that really classed as hangover symptoms, so the rather amusing designation wasn't really appropriate. Pity.
What had lingered was a strange lightheadedness, and an awareness of the minds around him that was subtly altered from what it had been three days ago. Thoughts had more... definition than they'd had before. Sharper-edged, more vivid, easier to distinguish. The background roar was still there, would always be there, but it was noticeably easier to find and focus on a single mind, pick it out of the noise. He would have tried to push his range a little, but he suspected very strongly that doing so wouldn't help him feel less tired. Maybe in a couple of days.
The invitation from Charles had come earlier this morning, when he'd been entertaining himself by painting a few more stencils on the nursery ceiling. Nathan had responded in the affirmative, finished the one stencil - of a sailboat; Moira had had a few specific requests - and then made his somewhat slow way downstairs to the sunroom, grabbing the stack of stencils on a whim as he left. Conversational piece, if nothing else. By the time he got there, tea was waiting. Of course.
"Good afternoon," was the calm greeting. Charles had wheeled his chair by the window, smiling faintly at the antics of the children outside, who had somehow procured a water hose and a bevy of water guns and were putting them to good use. "I trust the rest is doing you good?"
Nathan settled into one of the chair, unable to quite help a faint sigh. "I think so. I'm a little out of it, still, but I'm assuming that'll pass." He gave the tea a mildly suspicious look, then swiped one of the cookies off the plate. "I've been out to check on people a few times. Otherwise, just reading and doing a little painting." He extended the stencils to Charles. "Moira likes the idea of plenty of visual stimulation."
Accepting the stencils, Charles flipped through them carefully, giving each one equal attention. "That is indeed a very good idea." If his lips quirked slightly at some passing thought, he didn't elaborate. "I rather like the lighthouse one myself, I must say." The color staining the sides gave away the details, and Charles nodded approvingly.
"I suppose I could have asked one of the more artistically inclined around here to do it for me, but, well..." He'd wanted to do them himself. Nathan shifted a little in the chair. "You're all right?" he thought to ask, remembering how exhausted Charles had been after the events of the weekend.
A knowing look was directed at him over the stencil of the lighthouse, before the whole stack was handed back to him gravely. "I'm doing better. Rest is a telepath's friend and a simple screening of Alison's mind to keep things manageable for the empaths in the mansion isn't a strain for me, just yet." He sipped his tea, for a moment, looking grave.
Nathan set the stencils aside, then wondered if he shouldn't maybe just bow to the inevitable. The teapot levitated smoothly, filling the other cup, which floated over to his hand, and all before he'd quite finished making the decision. "I could... help, if it gets to be," he said a bit vaguely. "I think. If I understand the technique right..."
"Of course you could." The reply was matter of fact, Charles seemingly taking the offer and all it implied entirely in stride. "But not just yet and I think perhaps in a few days it won't be needed at all, at least during the day." Pensively, Charles considered the offer further nonetheless. "Perhaps tomorrow, depending on how sensitive you're still feeling, I might be inclined to take you up on that for a few hours, though. Should you insist." He smiled a bit at that.
"All right," Nathan said, making a mental note to insist. "And sensitive? Is that what this is?" That made sense. He was oversensitized. He sipped at his tea, silent for a long moment. Then: "How precisely did I do all of that?" It was the question that part of him had been asking ever since, and all of him had gotten a good smack upside the head from Moira when she'd heard him wondering about it on the link. Not that she'd known precisely what he'd done, just that he'd exhausted himself doing it...
"In the most simplest of terms... your hesitancy and unease with your telepathic abilities became overshadowed by your need to make use of them." Motion outside caught their attention, briefly, children racing by, screeching happily. When Nathan looked back at Charles, a slight smile was still present. "You always were capable of all that, Nathan. You were just... uninclined to attempt it."
Nathan thought about it for a few moments. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he said slowly. "Things have been... heading in that direction for a while now." The link he'd formed with the other telepaths, four of them unwilling, on Youra. Fighting the telepath in
the tunnels, successfully blurring the minds of the soldiers at the camp in Chad... even mastering that switchboard trick. Everything he had done with his telepathy recently - everything he had been training to do, if he was going to be scrupulously honest here - had been leading towards him working actively as a telepath in the field.
But the thought made him uneasy, even so. "It's funny," he said almost absently. "All that talk about psionics and ethics last week, and I think what's nagging at me the most is how to adjust my own thinking, if this is really the sort of thing I can do." So much more than just having an alternate means of communication and an early warning system. So much more complex.
"That will come on its own way, Nathan, given time. You're not required to adapt to every single change on the spot." The word anymore wasn't spoken, though it lingered briefly for a moment between them. "You have the knowledge. The rest will follow as it should, when it should."
"I was..." Nathan paused, grimacing. "It's getting easier. Maybe just because I do it when it needs to be done... and maybe that's not a bad thing? I shouldn't be at ease enough to be using it casually. Should I?" He could have slapped himself. Nothing like begging for reassurance.
"I think you already know the answer to that question, Nathan, from your own instinctive approach to the matter." If Charles' attention wavered then, slightly, it was only for a heartbeat and barely noticeable and he reached for his tea as though nothing had happened. "The chocolate chip cookies are underneath the raisin and oatmeal ones, I believe."
Nathan peered at the plate of cookies and they shifted, a chocolate chip cookie emerging. "I suppose I do," he said quietly, not missing Charles' momentary distraction. "Just like I know where all the unease comes from. I am... getting better about it, though." All he had to do to reassure himself of that was to remember himself a year ago, how terrified he had been of even speaking to Charles.
"You are indeed. And you're giving yourself the room to do so at your own pace far much so, these days. It's a nice thing to see," Charles said casually enough, reaching out to select a cookie for himself as well.
Something struck Nathan. "If..." He stopped, smiled. "I can help Rachel more," he said more quietly. "I hadn't thought of it that way."
"Indeed you can. And that is after all how you've progressed thus far, wouldn't you say?" The calm and serene smile that often followed moments where someone had made great progress lingered, for a moment, before the cup of tea obscured it as Charles took a near meditative sip of tea.
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