High Cost of Living - Justification (Nathan and Amanda, Wednesday evening)

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Nathan goes to get Amanda's side of the story. She doesn't have one - according to her, she did what she had to do and the whole situation is very simple. Nathan, obviously, doesn't see it that way.


The mansion was in an uproar. Amanda wasn't a psi, but still she could feel the anger, the shock, seething around her. Hypocrites, all of them, she thought, and took another calming breath. She was sitting in her room on the bed, legs folded up in lotus postion, hands resting on her knees. The light was off, but she preferred it that way - the darkness was comforting, soothing. She could think more clearly in the dark, see things for what they were.

Besides, it meant people thought she wasn't there. And that suited her just fine. Give them time to wear out their umbrage. Remy was alive, and that was all that mattered.

There was no knock at the door, before it opened. "So," Nathan said quietly, standing in the doorway. The light coming from behind him made his expression unreadable. "Let's consider the obligatory 'what the fuck did you think you were doing' part of the visit over. Saves time."

"Draw the short straw, did you?" she replied quietly, not opening her eyes. "I'm fine, by the way. In case anyone was wondering." Another breath in, and then she was done, ready for this. Opening her eyes she spoke a single word: "Light," and the switch flicked on, bathign the small room in cheery yellow. It was perhaps incongruous, considering the figure on the bed, hair and clothes entirely black, her skin milk-pale. The gauntness that had been worrying Manuel was gone, and her expression completely unreadable. "Come in, then. Let's get this done."

"Could you go through what happened, please." It wasn't a question. His voice was still very quiet, almost inaudible. In the light, his expression wasn't any more readable. Not flat, not bleak. Just empty. "We have the perspective of the other people who were there. We need yours."

"Remy was dying. I stopped it. Same as I did Alison." Amanda's words were matter-of-fact, no hint of defensiveness or apology. "Only I couldn't use Limbo again to power up. So I used what was handy. Magic's just energy transfer, after all. Forge and Charlie taught me that."

"You used people."

"There's always a price, Nate. Magic doesn't come free." There was a flicker in her eyes that might have been guilt, or something else entirely. "Or are miracles only allowed when it's me paying it? It's only fair when I'm lying here half-dead from overload?"

Nathan looked her right in the eyes. "Yes," he said. "Because you can choose, Amanda. You can trade yourself, your own welfare, to accomplish something, to save someone..." For a moment, his mind went back to that hallway on Youra before he wrenched it back to the moment at hand. "That's called sacrifice, Amanda. That's not what you did this afternoon."

"I would've died." But then again, he probably didn't care. It was only Remy, after all. Not one of his precious Clan. "Spreading the drain, using as many people as I could reach, it meant no-one had to die. If I'd been able to reach the whole house, no-one would have even felt a thing."

"Frank died," Nathan said very quietly. "What if one of the babies had been in the medlab?"

Another flicker, this one definitely alarm. "I didn't mean..." Then she regained her composure. "They weren't. That much uproar, they had to be with someone." Her hands were trambling slightly, and she folded them in her lap to control it. "I couldn't let him die, Nate. I'm sorry about Frank, but he was just a lizard. Remy's a human being, no matter what some people might think." And her friend, for want of a better word. Perhaps one of the few she had left.

Nathan stared at her, his expression absolutely blank. "You didn't know. You just assumed." Then the rest of her words sank in, and he took a deep, shaky breath. "Shall I fast-forward through the next few minutes of the conversation here? I tell you that I would have volunteered, virus or no virus, and that I wouldn't have been the only one. You do after all live in a house with over a dozen people who risk their lives on a regular basis for people who hate them, never mind one of their own. Then," he went on, his voice very slightly unsteady, "you'll tell me there wasn't enough time to stop and explain. Then I'll point out that you could have opened your mind, yelled for Charles, yelled for me, and half a dozen X-Men could have converged on the medlab instanteously, never mind the doctors, who might very well have agreed if you'd asked them and were right there. Then you'll tell me you did what you thought you had to do, and the conversation will go downhill from there. Sound about right?"

"About right, yeah." She met his eyes unflinchingly. "Remy was dead. No heartbeat, no breathing, no brain activity. I heard Moira say it. They were giving up. There wasn't time to ask for volunteers." Her face hardened a little. "You can't tell me there hasn't been times where you've had to make a decision without a debate and sort things out after. I did what had to be done, and I'm not going to let you lot make me feel bad about it. Fuck, you're the one who told me using Selene's power to get us out of the club last year was the right thing to do, and that was our own stupid fault."

"How did you use it?" Back to nothing in his voice. No unsteadiness, no emotion at all. "Who did you use it against? Your friends? The people who care about you?"

"Well, strangely enough there wasn't any handy cannon fodder for me to latch onto. Unless maybe I should have used the Jones kid by himself? Drained him dry?" Amanda's tone was scathing. "I made a judgement call Nate. Five for one. Fuck, I wouldn't have used Manuel at all except the link got in the way. I'm not that heartless." Emotion entered her voice, true regret. When she spoke again, it was replaced by a certain weariness. "So, what now? Should I start packing?"

Nathan stared at her for a long moment. "I can't speak for the others," he said finally, "but given what you've told me - I would think yes, most likely." He turned his hands palm-up, staring down at them for a moment, the gesture odd, unreadable. "You barely avoided disaster, and won't admit it. You can't bear to admit that you could have been wrong, that there might have been time to give people the chance to offer their help. You throw up straw horses, suggesting that we're only objecting because it was Remy..." He trailed off, his gaze moving to the wall for a moment, going unfocused and distant. "It might have worked, that. If someone else besides me had come to talk to you."

"Why did you come? Bit late to be pulling the paternal shite now, Nate." The news that she'd probably be asked to leave didn't seem to phase her. She'd known in her heart it would come to this, that they'd give up. That the only help she had was herself. "Not a word to me in a month and a half - what makes you think I'd listen to you after that?"

"Do you know how transparent you are?" His voice was empty, again. "You don't, do you. Because here you are again, frantically trying to shift the conversation away from the choices you made. But congratulations. Because I'm going to let you."

He looked away for a long, long moment. When he looked back, the expression on his face was as raw as it had been empty a moment ago. The gray eyes that had been cool were burning with pain and a wrenching sadness. His presence seemed to fill the whole room suddenly, all of the force of personality of a telepath who had always been much stronger than he appeared turned outwards instead of inward.

And he smiled. A slight, hopeless smile that wavered for just an instant, the desperate love showing through.

"If I thought it would make a difference, if it wouldn't just hurt you more... if I thought you'd believe me, I'd explain. But you've already given up, haven't you? So in the end, it doesn't matter. ~Words in the wind.~" The Askani phrase felt odd, foreign on his lips.

It hurt. Like a rusty blade turning in her gut, and all she could think was too fucking late now.. Because it was too late. She'd made her choice, and she wouldn't walk away from it. And he'd failed her, they all had, smacking her down when she'd reached out, only paying attention when they needed someone put back together, not seeing. "I'll send you a postcard," she replied, shrugging and looking away.

Nathan gazed at her for a long moment, taking in all the little ways she was giving herself away. Then he turned towards the door, opening it. "This is your price," he said, his voice low again. "The one thing about sacrifice is that it's clean, Amanda. It's hard, but it's right. And you'll never be able to feel that about this, because however much you're trying to convince yourself that the end justifies the means, there's part of you that knows better."

He paused, looking over his shoulder. "If I'm wrong, and you're allowed to stay... Moira, of course, will make her own decisions," he said softly. "But I don't want you anywhere near Rachel. Ever again."

And he walked out, closing the door behind him.