xp_logs | Trinity: Future and Past

Their last night with the nomads, Haroun finally eats something besides MREs. He and Nathan snipe at each other on a number of subjects, but also touch on a couple of more productive topics (at least potentially). Nathan indulges just a wee bit too much in fermented mare's milk, and his precognition chooses a singularly bad time to kick in.

"Would you please eat something?" Nathan growled, sotto voce. His sense of satisfaction at how the meeting with the Interior Minister had gone was somewhat dulled by Haroun's 'How To Show Disrespect To My Host, Part Six'. "The noodles have no horsemeat in them. Eat the noodles." He drained the cup of kumis in one aggressive swallow, the fermented mare's milk making his eyes water briefly.

Haroun eyed the noodles with profound suspicion. "I've got MREs back in my pack. They're ass-tastic but they don't offend God." he said piously. "Besides, I'm not sure these are entirely dead yet."

Damira, Baurzhan's wife, promptly refilled Nathan's cup with a smile. Nathan smiled back at her, and then gave Haroun an evil look once her back was turned. "Eat some bread. Or some cheese. Or some of the dried fruit. Eat something, before I take you back behind the yurt and beat you for being this disrespectful."

Haroun, to humor his friend, picked up a piece of flatbread and nibbled it. He resolved to keep his consumption to a minimum - he'd already violated too many of his precepts already on this trip and he was going to draw the line somewhere.

Nathan subsided, simmering. He picked up the bowl of sorpa, sipping at the broth. He was starved, he realized suddenly. For all that he was nagging at Haroun for not eating, he had been skipping meals since he'd been here, with everything he'd had on his mind. Farkhan's wife, Ksenia, would have been scolding him.

Haroun didn't care much for the flatbread, so he made an impromptu sandwich from the cheeses and the flatbread. It didn't taste very good, but he wasn't expecting much from this little feast.

Damira looked back at them, raising an eyebrow. "~The two of you are at odds?~" she asked Nathan, who grumbled. "~You should make amends,~" she said, coming over with a platter of fried vegetables and flat cakes. "~You are older and wiser, no?~"

"~Older, yes.~" Nathan gave Haroun a sideways look. "No meat of any sort in those," he pointed out.

"I'm not a vegetarian." he pointed out, but added some of the vegetables - fried and tasteless, no doubt - to his cheese sandwich. "It's the preparation and how the animal is killed that matter."

"Mmph," was Nathan's sour response as he took another long sip of the mare's milk. At this rate, he was going to make himself more than slightly tipsy. Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, he supposed. "Well, there are no animals in that, so I imagine they're not quite as objectionable."

He didn't know why he felt so aggressively... irked. Well, yes he did. Haroun had called him his father's son. But it was more than that. He'd wanted all three of them to see these people as he'd seen them, understand... oh, to hell with it. Wanda and Angelo had.

Haroun took more of the vegetables, and popped one into his mouth while he worked on creating his sandwich. Surprisingly, the vegetables hadn't been drained completely of all of their taste and flavor. And ... whatever it was he just ate had some kick to it. His eyes were watering, but the only beverage within easy reach was that fermented mare's milk. He'd just have to tough it out.

Damira moved over smoothly, setting a cup of tea down in front of him, then smiling as she moved away again. Nathan rolled his eyes. "So did you and Baurzhan's nephew get the stories of those last few parents recorded?" The nephew spoke fluent English and had helped Haroun with getting the details of some of the apparent kidnappings down on paper. Most of the records, he and Angelo had given to Aliayev already today, but there had been a few sets of parents coming from farther away. He'd make sure they dropped off the additional files at the Ministry before they left the country.

Haroun smiled at Damira before downing the entire cup of tea. It was hot, but it did a marvelous job of cutting through the heat of whatever it was he'd just eaten. Horseradish, perhaps? Something like that. "We got it." he said, patting his satchel. "It's all right here. Seems to me like it's just a bunch of greedy yak-herders looking for their slice of some good times, but I don't know these people like you do." he admitted. Pagan horsemen who drank blood and ate their meat nearly raw on the inside. Disgusting, really.

Nathan bristled. Damira promptly gave him a warning look. "~No fighting at my table.~"

"~I wasn't going to fight!~"

"~Yes, you were. I remember that look.~"

Flushing, Nathan drank more of his mare's milk and reached out for some of the vegetables. "Good," he said to Haroun, a bit savagely. "I can dump copies of all the documentation in a few strategic directions when we get home, just to make sure the Interior Ministry here does indeed do something."

Haroun nodded and took a bite of his veggie-and-cheese sandwich. It was still fiery, but the cheese cut a great deal of the heat. And disturbingly tasty as well. He devoured it and then started to assemble another. He was -starving- and his MREs really did taste like week-old unwashed gym socks. He waved his teacup at Damira, hoping to get a refill - or to get her to just leave him the pot entirely.

She moved and refilled the cup, giving him another smile. Nathan watched her a bit pensively, then drained the rest of his mare's milk so that she could do the same with that.

"This has already been more productive than Kashmir was," he said to Haroun.

"Good." he said, mindful that Nathan's Kashmir trip had ended ... poorly. "Who knew that this cheese and these veggies would go so well together?" he mused. "Huh."

"~I'm glad he's found something he will eat,~" Damira said wisely from where she was slicing something into another pot. "~I was beginning to despair.~"

Nathan smiled suddenly, almost helplessly, at the lightly teasing tone. "There's plenty more," he pointed out to Haroun. "I'm sure part of the reason you've been in such a lousy mood the whole time has been that you've been eating MREs."

"I've got plenty of good reason to be in a lousy mood." he said, and then suddenly grinned. "And reason to be downright giddy." he added. "Suppose it all balances out in the end. But by Mohammed - peace be upon him - if I -ever- have another MRE it will be too soon!"

Nathan gave him a wary look. "Go with the giddy," he muttered, then picked up a piece of flatbread. "You're much nicer to be around when you're giddy."

He cheerfully flipped off Nathan with his free hand while taking another big bite of his cheese-and-veggie sandwich in his other. "Bite me."

"Isn't that usually my line?" He was definitely beginning to feel a little light-headed. He wasn't eating enough. Taking another sip of his broth before he continued, Nathan went on. "So we'll head back into Almaty tomorrow, if the weather holds."

"Sounds good. I presume Angelo and Wanda want to get back about as badly as I do." he said with a grin. Finally - FINALLY - he felt like he could relax. "Unless you've got some other charming ethnic activity for us to all take part in?"

Nathan glared at him. "Fine," he said, biting off the ends of his words. "I get the picture. You did not appreciate the Kazakh experience."

"Can't say that I did." he said in all honesty. "And I know it was important to you, how much they mean to you. I'm not taking anything away from that. But this - this is not me. I'm a faithful man, and these people are ... different." he said diplomatically. "They've warped the word of the Prophet until it's barely recognizable. They don't keep halal, they don't cover themselves like decent folk ... I'm having difficulty warming to them as a group."

"You're not particularly orthodox in a lot of ways," Nathan pointed out. "Why is it so important that good people - and they are good people - don't keep to arbitrary customs? When they are good and kind and hospitable..."

"They have their good parts..." he admitted, and then shook his head. "They shouldn't claim to be People of the Book if they're not going to -follow- the Book." he said stubbornly.

"They don't claim to be anything. They are what they are. Your take on your religion differs from that of certain mullahs, doesn't it?" Nathan asked a bit waspishly.

Haroun quirked an eyebrow at Nathan. "I'm not going to debate theology with you, unbeliever." he said between bites of sandwich. But he smiled at Nate to take the sting away. "And yes, it does."

Nathan shook his head, and took another gulp or two of the mare's milk. "I need to bring Moira and Rachel back here someday," he said.

Haroun blinked. "Are you sure that's wise?" he asked, and then shook his head. "Nevermind. Of course you're sure. I'd love to take Alison to Morocco with me, but ... that's not going to happen. She could go on her own, but ... it wouldn't be the same."

"There's no danger here," Nathan said. "Kazakhstan's doing the best of any of the former republics, thanks to the oil money. You didn't notice how many tourists were on that plane coming in with us, did you?"

Haroun snorted in amusement. "I saw." he said gruffly. "And oil money corrupts."

"And is it that surprising that I want so much to reconnect with one of the few good parts of my past?" Nathan asked a bit restlessly.

"No." he said simply. "Not at all." he said pensively, finding great meaning in the interplay of light on shadow.

"Touchstones," Nathan said, and pain crossed his face as he thought about having this same conversation with Amanda. "We need touchstones. Stable places, to keep us holding on..."

Haroun nibbled his sandwich, his appetite gone now. "A home." he said quietly. "I miss mine fiercely."

"Not necessarily even that, for me. That's not what this place was," Nathan said with a sigh. "It was just... stability. Human kindness. A glimpse of normality, maybe."

Haroun nodded. "You have different needs from someone like me. I have a family, parents, cousins..." he said. "I haven't seen them in years. I have letters, yes - thanks to the Pack - but no more."

"Have you ever thought of bringing your parents out, maybe? Just for a visit, I mean," Nathan said after a moment. "It could probably be done."

Haroun blinked. "It's not safe, and I don't think that they could afford to take the time away. My mother ... does not travel well." he said, but behind his eyes the wheels were turning. "But..."

"But?" Nathan prompted quietly, sipping at his drink. Sometimes, he really didn't know why he persisted with Haroun. Other times, he did.

"But ... Allah help me, I am tempted." he admitted. "Perhaps something could be arranged..." he mused.

"You should consider it," Nathan said. "Really, you should. Or something like it." Thought. He'd have to put some thought into this, talk to Alison. If the two of them couldn't come up with something... well, to hell with that. The two of them would come up with something. It was them, after all. "When you have loving family, it's wrong not to see them." He paused, then peered down into his glass. "I think I've had too much of this. That was kind of a redundant statement."

Haroun laughed. "Perhaps." he said. "But you have an excellent point. I should see them, and they me. They worry, although they try not to let me see it. And my father would die upon seeing the Blackbird." he laughed.

"Saul claims he worries too," Nathan volunteered. "But I don't buy that. I think there are different kinds of worry, if you know what I mean."

Haroun spat in disgust. "Your father lies with his every breath." he said. "He cares nothing for you save as a tool."

"No, see, it would be much simpler if he hadn't convinced himself otherwise," Nathan said helpfully, shaking his head. "Then I could, you know, just hate him. Instead of wanting him to show up one day and tell me that it was all a terrible mistake."

"He knows you too well." he said. "Either from stolen telepathy or from his own shrewdness. Do not love him, for love is wasted upon him. He is an ingrate and evil." he said, then spat again.

Damira turned around, raising an eyebrow, and Nathan shook his head at Haroun. "Don't spitting. Spitting is bad. Rude. You're supposed to go outside if you're going to spit," he said, rising to show Haroun how one went outside - and promptly falling back down onto the cushion. "Okaaaaay. Walking bad."

Haroun blinked, and then laughed at Nathan. "You're drunk, old man." he said accusingly.

Damira gave them both a patient look, then focused on Haroun. "Fresh... air?" she suggested in halting English, inclining her head at Nathan.

Haroun got to his feet gracefully then pulled Nathan to his own unsteady feet - an impressive feat, as Nathan was almost a foot taller than he was. "Come on, you big oaf. Time to go outside." he said, getting his legs underneath him and hoisting Nate up into a fireman's carry to go outside.

"Well, someone's definitely moving better," Nathan said cheerfully, then stopped talking, because he felt odd. They were outside, all at once. "Let me... down," Nathan said vaguely, something about the moonlight off the snow, reflections... mirrors?

Haroun dumped Nate into a convenient snowdrift outside the dining hall - a nice thick one. "What's wrong with you now?" he asked, looking into his friend's eyes. "Drunkenness, or something else?"

Nathan didn't quite meet Haroun's eyes, his gaze unfocused, troubled, his expression strangely lost as his hands moved in an unfamiliar, repetitive motion. "Pictures," he said faintly. "On the table. Mirrors, minds like mirrors..."

Haroun blinked and then reached into his pocket for a notepad and a pen. He started writing down this latest bout of prophecy, on the off chance that doing so could be important. "Minds like mirrors?" he asked promptingly. "What about the mirrors?"

"I..." His hands were shaking violently, and he started to shake his head, back and forth, denying... whatever that was, just beyond his reach. It was wrong, whatever it was. "No more," he said pleadingly, then swallowed against a surge of nausea - and grief, following hard on its heels, no less strong for all its sourcelessness. "Please? No more people she'll never know..."

Haroun blinked as the onslaught of images bloomed in his own mind. He fought against it, pushed back with everything he could muster, but in the area of the mind he was a rank amateur. Haroun didn't know how to take Nate out of a precognitive state, so he fell back onto the old standby. Violence. He slapped Nate, hard enough to rock the older man's head back. "Knock it off!"

Nathan caught himself on an elbow before he could wind up prone in the snow again. His head was spinning, images fracturing and fading before he could grasp them, and all he could hear then were the normal evening sounds of the camp and his own labored breathing. "You keep hitting me," he muttered dazedly.

"You keep asking for it." he said with a grin. "Better now?"

"I--ask me again in a minute," Nathan said faintly and shifted to his hands and knees just in time to throw up everything he'd just eaten. Once his stomach finally settled, he wiped his mouth and looked up at Haroun. "I don't know whether to thank you or tell you that you shouldn't have hit me," he said bleakly, shakily. "That was... I don't know what that was, but it hurt. Part of me didn't want to see it."

Haroun just stood by and waited for Nate to resolve his own internal distress. "Sorry I had to hit you again, but you were trying to share your little revelation." he said.

"Loss. I just felt... loss." Nathan staggered back to his feet, swaying dangerously. His jaw trembled. "I don't want to see," he said, sounding exhausted and frightened, his hands going to his temples, rubbing doggedly. "I see too much. I don't want to see anymore."

Haroun nodded. "Come on, old man. Time to put you to bed. You look like shit." he told him cheerfully. "Give yourself time to process whatever it was you just saw."

"Okay..." Nathan staggered again, but Haroun steadied him. "I think you're right sometimes," he said. "Pushy futures are bad."

Haroun held his tongue - now was not the time to remind Nate how he felt about precognition. "I'm sure ol' what's-her-face will have a nice warm spot for you to bed down." he said. "It's been a long day."

"I convinced a cabinet minister to play Eliot Ness," Nathan said, leaning a bit heavily on Haroun and brightening at the memory. "It was fun."

Haroun rolled his eyes. "I spent a great deal of time avoiding a fourteen-year-old girl who smelled of horseshit who decided she was going to be my new best friend." he said with a sigh.

"Did you meet Meruert?" Nathan asked. "Meruert was nineteen when I was nineteen. I liked Meruert," he said tiredly. "Her father wasn't so crazy about me."

Haroun thought about it for a second. "Wait, yes, I did." he said. "And I think she still likes you, you old goat." he teased.

"She's happily married now. Lots of kids. But you always remember the first time..." He paused, then shook his head again. "Nevermind. Reminiscing again. I think Moira would like her, though. They have certain things in common."

"Get inside. You're shivering." he said with a laugh. The cold wasn't even bothering him at all.