xp_logs | Nathan and Bridge, Wednesday night

Bridge heads to the hospital to deliver the promised riot-act-reading. It consists, among other things, of repetitive use of the word 'dumbass'. There's no yelling, though, and they manage to have a much-needed talk about what happened.

"Why are you taunting me with the coffee?" Nathan asked balefully, eyeing Bridge as he sprawled in the chair beside the bed, sipping at his Starbucks cup and occasionally making appreciative noises.

Bridge raised an eyebrow. "Because you deserve a little torment, dumbass," he said with perfect aplomb. "Did I mention you were a dumbass yet? Because I wouldn't want to not be clear on the fact that you have been pretty much a total dumbass this week."

"Are you getting paid for talking based on the number of times you use the word dumbass?" Nathan asked crankily, shifting on the bed. "Because that's about the twelfth time you've said it since you sat down."

"Fifteenth, thank you. When you're emphasizing something, best to be precise."

"Right." Nathan settled back against the bed with a ragged sigh. "Can we not do this?" he asked, and it came out as considerably more of a plea than he'd intended.

The eyebrow went a little higher. "Why?" Bridge asked, very seriously. "I've always found that repetition generally helps things get through that thick skull of yours. You might not process it the first time, or the fifth, but eventually-"

"GW, come on."

"Your wife was crying on me."

Nathan went silent, staring at his friend for a long moment. "Oh," he muttered, mingled shame and worry and regret tearing at him for a moment before he pushed it away, taking a judicious somewhat-deep breath. He had known she was getting frayed, he thought distantly. Even Moira's self-control wasn't perfect. Maybe it was good that Bridge had appeared so unexpectedly. Given her someone 'safe' to fall apart on.

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" Bridge gave him a long, narrow-eyed look, but then seemed to relax a little, as if he'd seen something that satisfied him. "All right," he said more amiably. "You're not wearing the 'kill me now for I am a sad piece of shit who doesn't deserve to live' look. Can I take this to mean that you aren't planning to indulge in the whole downwards spiral of guilt you do so well?"

Nathan smiled faintly, no real humor behind the expression. "Indulge... good word. Because it would be self-indulgent." And there were enough other levels to this situation that he needed to process and deal with - adding self-flagellating guilt over something he couldn't change wasn't going to help him do that. "I'd rather focus on getting out of here, making it up to her, and making sure I don't do this ever again." His tone was quietly vehement by the time that he finished speaking.

Bridge studied him for a moment, then leaned back in the chair. "Okay," he said, almost gently. "If you're not going to beat yourself up, I guess I don't need to, either. But you got played but good, Nate. You know that, right?"

"I know. I hate my family." The smile twisted. "I just couldn't not take the chance, GW..."

"I can get my own intel, Nathan. I've been doing it for years," Bridge said, quietly but firmly. "I don't need you running stupid risks just because you're frustrated that you can't be on the ground over there with us." He raised a hand as Nathan opened his mouth to protest. "Uh-uh. I know you too well, bro. Look me right in the eye and tell me that didn't play a role in you being willing to run straight into what you knew was some sort of trap."

Nathan shut his mouth, flustered. Had it? "I was frustrated," he finally admitted, unwillingly. "I didn't think that was part of it. Maybe you're right, though..."

"What did you think you were frustrated about, then?" Bridge asked reasonably. "Because if it's bugging you enough that you're being this reckless, you need to sort it out."

Nathan grumbled, closing his eyes. "I don't even know where to start. Too much." And he was too tired to sort through it all just now. His head was clearer - the nurse had pointed out cheerfully that his temperature was back down almost to normal again - but he was exhausted, and he hurt. Pretty much everywhere, or at least all the different aches and pains were blurring together into one all-encompassing 'ow'.

"Dump it all on Jack?"

"Planning to. I'll be sorting it out before I know it." Jack was big on the whole 'taking things one step at a time' thing. "And no more reacting when Gideon pokes me," Nathan said wearily. "That was such a dumbass thing to do. Should've hung up as soon as I recognized his voice."

"He knew just where to hit you," Bridge said quietly, real sympathy in his eyes as he studied Nathan. "Like I told Moira, it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. And that's even discounting Pete's involvement totally."

"Yeah. Let's not dwell on that, okay?"

"Dwell, no," Bridge murmured. "Talk about it, yeah. Because I think it needs talking about, don't you? And you're damned sure not going to be able to do it freely at the mansion." Not given the need to keep what had happened quiet.

"I started it, okay? He warned me to back off. I mean, he didn't tell me he was going to hit me with an EMP, but I should have had the sense to guess he might have something up his sleeve." Nathan raised the arm that wasn't in a class and picked up the cup of water sitting on the little table-thing. "I mean," he said, once he'd taken a sip, "it was Pete."

"So that's it? You're taking all the responsibility for this? Or at least sharing it with your uncle?"

"No." Nathan set the cup of water back down carefully. He was so tired of this conversation, he thought dully. What was the point of going over it all, again? "Or I don't know, maybe. For the fight, at least. Yeah. Because that was all me."

"Was it? Given that he was ready for you? You don't get customized EM weaponry off the shelf, Nate."

"It's Pete, GW. He's lived this long because he was paranoid," Nathan said, restless and a little angry. "If he was involved in something like this, he probably figured he might attract some interest from the X-Men, and specifically me, at some point. Especially if he knew that you and Dom and the others were running around in Africa trying to find these camps. Which he did," Nathan muttered. Why had he just remembered that?

Bridge was silent for a long moment. "If information on the camps was going from Eris to the Hellfire Club... I don't know, maybe Gideon's got people on the ground too, and we haven't been as discreet as I hope." He bit his lip. "I'm still trying to figure this out, Nate. What the hell's going on, I mean."

"Doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it?" Nathan asked wearily. "What the Inner Circle would want with a bunch of African mutant kids..."

"Depends on where the camps are, I guess. Destabilizing or strengthening certain regimes might be in the Club's interest, and private mutant armies could sure help do that." Bridge sighed and drained his coffee in one gulp. "You can't take this personally, you know," he said, shifting the topic quite deliberately. "Whatever Wisdom's doing. Just because he's chosen to be connected to something that reminds you of Mistra."

"Oh, I can take it personally," Nathan said after a moment, his voice very low. "I just can't pretend it's about me. But I stopped believing in 'just business' a while ago, GW."

"I know." Bridge grimaced down into his empty cup. "So very, very glad I didn't bring Dom with me."

"Me too."