xp_logs | Nathan, Haroun, and Saul, Tuesday evening (Reply)

Haroun convinces Nathan to head into the city with him for dinner for a real Moroccan meal. It's a very good meal, until Nathan looks up and sees his father sitting across the room. (Yes, the restaurant is still standing when they leave.)

Haroun laughed as he climbed out of the car. "You can unclench now." he said with a grin. "It wasn't that bad." He was flaunting the weather again - it was fairly cold for January, and Haroun was in shirtsleeves and jeans. "Hope you're hungry."

Nathan raised an eyebrow, closing the passenger door behind him. "You still drive like a maniac," he muttered, looking around a bit furtively. It was the first time he'd been in New York since... well, since. He was feeling edgy.

"Does this surprise you?" he laughed. "And I want real Moroccan food, dammit. I'm entitled to a taste of home." he pronounced with admirable gravity, but spoiled it with a grin. "And you - you need to stop stewing. Enjoy yourself, eat some good food, watch the pretty dancers, and just relax."

"I am not stewing," Nathan said quietly, mustering a little bit of dignity and even managing a faint smile. "And you're unhealthily persistent. I can't promise the relaxing and enjoying, but I'll try not to stew too loudly."

Haroun grinned at that. "I'll take it." he said with a smile. "Unhealthy persistence in the face of insurmountable odds is what I'm all about." he laughed. "That, and a reckless disregard for my own safety. Now come on, old man, I'm hungry." He opened the door to the restaurant and nearly wept with joy at the familiar scent of Moroccan cooking that wafted past his nostrils. "Now that is what I am talking about."

Spices, on the warm air. Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and then letting it out, listening to the soft music. "Very nice."

Haroun nodded, not trusting his voice for a second. The maitre'd was a Moroccan, and Haroun lapsed into the patois of his home to get everything arranged - the meal, the dancers, all of it. "Be just a few moments." he said to Nate as the man scurried off to make sure everything was ready.

Nathan leaned up against the nearest wall with a sigh. He was still so tired. He wasn't sleeping well at all. "I think you made it into Moira's good books, taking me out of the house," he offered quietly.

Haroun grinned. "Good, because I'm also getting a head start on trying to solve my problems instead of just coping with them." he said. "So I'll be bothering your wife quite a bit." he grinned. "Ah, table's ready." he said, spotting the maitre'd approaching. He followed the man back to their table, and took his seat. "You smell that? I wish I could bottle it and save it for the next time I get homesick." he mused.

Nathan sank down into his seat, smiling still. "Could always give you a telepathic suggestion to remember the sensory moment whenever you get homesick," he teased lightly.

"Defeats the point. If I'm homesick I'm hardly gonna want to go find the big white boy to get my scent-of-home fix." he said with a grin. "Tea?" he asked, holding up the kettle.

"Sure. And who said you'd have to come find me? I know how to make suggestions stick, now..." Nathan picked up the teacup as Haroun finished pouring, and sipped at it. "GW would have liked this," he said more softly, meaning the tea.

Haroun grinned. "Tea-drinker, was he? Good. Nice civilized drink. We can thank the Chinese for it." he said, drinking from his own cup. "Oh, this is good." he said with a sigh of sheer pleasure. "Just like I remember it."

"Loved tea. Was always trying different kinds, in all the places we traveled." Nathan's voice was soft, yet oddly distant. He took another sip of the tea, his eyes slightly unfocused as they roamed the dim confines of the restaurant.

"He have any favorites?" he asked quietly as he sipped his tea. As far as he was concerned, Moroccan mint tea was the pinnacle of the tea world and everyone else's pale imitations could just go the fuck home.

"There was this weird little blend in northern India. Forget what it was called... he'd buy tons of it, whenever we were passing through, and then ration it out..."

Haroun quirked an eyebrow. "You remember what it was called?" he said. "I mean, this right here is the King of Teas, but maybe the Indians put together a brew that doesn't taste like engine-cleaner."

"Mm. It had ginger in it, I think... had a bit of a kick." Nathan looked vaguely distressed, in a faraway sort of way. "I honestly can't remember. Dammit. Ginger, and fennel, I think..."

Haroun blinked. "Weird. Well, if you do happen to remember, or better yet come across some, I'd like to try it." he offered. "Ah, good. First course." he said, as the servers brought salad and soup for the two men. He stuck his nose over his bowl and inhaled. "My God, call the preacher - I'm in love again." he said with a laugh.

Nathan shook his head a little, setting his teacup back down. He wanted to let go, he thought a little wistfully. Just let himself feed off Haroun's good mood in a sense. His friend's thoughts had such a... sparkle about them, tonight.

But he couldn't. It was like someone had an iron grip around his throat, and every time he tried to relax, it tightened, threatened to choke off his air. Strange image. Really, probably not a healthy image...

Haroun set to at his food with a vengeance. "This is so good." he said between bites. "Almost as good as Mom's." Half his salad was gone before he realized Nate was only picking at his food. "Hey," he said, quieter now. "Eat your soup before it gets cold."

Nathan blinked at him, then applied himself to his soup. He'd been forgetting to eat, but then feeling the lack of eating, unlike the days when the Askani's presence had allowed him to do that repeatedly. He'd actually blacked out briefly at his desk yesterday, something he was glad Moira hadn't seen.

"It's good soup." He was still studying the restaurant. Looking at details, he tried to convince himself. Just his customary habit.

Then he saw Saul sitting at a table in the far corner.

He stopped, spoon freezing halfway between his mouth and the bowl. Sleep deprivation, he told himself. His father was not sitting right... no, he was, because he was nodding at him.

Haroun was bucking for a promotion from Captain Oblivious to Admiral Oblivious, as he completely missed Saul's presence in favor of a Deep and Meaningful Relationship with his soup.

"I'm... going to find the little boys' room," Nathan said after a moment, lowering his spoon back to the bowl. His hands were shaking, and he slid them beneath the edge of the table. "Back in a minute, okay?"

Haroun blinked and then nodded. "Over there." he said, gesturing in the vague direction of Saul's table - and the men's room. "Don't take too long, next course should be ready soon."

"Right." Nathan got up and headed over there as casually as he could, walking right past Saul's table and into the men's room, which was thankfully unoccupied.

He didn't have long to wait. The door opened and his father stepped in, watching him with a calm sort of wariness in the mirror as Nathan bent over the sink to splash some water on his face.

"Hello, Nathan."

"If he's somewhere around here, I'm killing you both and dealing with the consequences later."

"He's not." Saul said softly, eyes locked on Nathan's reflection. "You look terrible."

"How am I supposed to look? Your brother murdered my best friend. With my telekinesis." Nathan swallowed, his hands shaking violently as he splashed more water on his face. He felt sick, shaken. But he had to keep it together, make sure Haroun didn't notice anyway. His mind was ranging outwards, trying to find any sign of Gideon. "You're sure he's not here? Not trying to kill another one of my friends?" The thought took root in his mind and wouldn't go away, and Nathan gripped at the edge of the counter, breathing heavily.

Haroun shook his head as he caught the ragged edge of a panicked thought in his mind. Something was wrong, and he got up to make his way back towards the men's room. His eyes swept the restaurant, looking for assailants in every dark booth, every quiet nook. Finding nothing, he stepped into the men's room to check up on Nate.

"Listen to me," Saul was saying very quietly, moving slowly, deliberately towards Nathan. "There's more going on here than you realize, Nathan-"

"Oh?" Nathan gave a cracked laugh. The partitions in the bathroom rattled, and Saul stopped. "So if I understand, it'll make it all right? Explain cold-blooded murder away, make it make sense..." The same words he'd used to Gideon in Namibia. The irony.

"We don't," Saul murmured, "try to make our actions 'all right'. But understanding would help, Nathan. I don't..." He hesitated briefly. "I don't like to see you in such pain."

Nathan laughed again, a louder, almost hysterical noise before he bit his lip. No making a scene. No scene at all. His mind was still scanning the vicinity frantically, looking for any mind that was suspiciously mirrored. Anything that might be Gideon.

"Come with me," Saul went on quietly. "Just for a few hours, so that we can talk. Gideon's not here. It would be just you and I..."

Haroun walked into the men's room, and saw Nate talking to someone who had a disturbing resemblance to Saul. He didn't even hesitate - the elbow went out, aimed right for the back of Saul's head. Take him down hard and fast and pray to Allah that Gideon wasn't lurking in a stall or something.

And Haroun was suddenly frozen in mid-move, the elbow not going anywhere near Saul's head.

"Much as I don't really have problems with the idea of concussing my father," Nathan said, his voice cracking and his face ashen, alarmingly so, "I'd prefer not to escalate this just now, Haroun."

Saul turned slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, and regarded Haroun for a long moment. "I'm not here to cause a scene," he said. Very definitely to Haroun, not to Nathan.

Haroun thought vile thoughts at Saul, but he relaxed against the telekinetic grip he was in. "This man is out of sanction," he said stiffly.

Saul turned back to his son. "You want answers," he said, ignoring Haroun as if he'd never walked into the men's room and tried to assault him. "I know you do. I heard what you said to your uncle in Africa-"

"Before you shot me, you mean?"

"You were about to kill a member of your family," Saul said, almost gently. "That's something of an irrevocable step, Nathan."

"So is any murder." He was panicking. He couldn't stop panicking. Gideon had to be here somewhere. Didn't he? And if he was here, and Haroun was here, and... He grabbed harder at the edge of the counter, trying to stop his thoughts from running around in panicked circles. His telekinetic grip on Haroun started to slip and he didn't even notice.

"I never lied to you, Nathan," Saul said more firmly. "There was information I didn't volunteer, that I didn't think you were ready to hear at the time, but I never lied. If you have questions you want to ask me, you'll get honest answers."

Haroun felt the grip on his body start to slip, but he didn't push it - he waited for it to erode to the point where he could actually take a shot. Hopefully that would be before this little melodrama came to a close. ~Nate!~ Haroun thought loudly to his friend. ~Let me take the shot. Don't let him into your head, he'll just screw you up. He is out of sanction, we should be taking this opportunity to take him out!~

Haroun's thought glanced off the surface of Nathan's own wildly spinning thoughts. "Did my mother..." Nathan's voice broke. "Did my mother agree with what you and Gideon were doing? Did she... you said she did, I remember you said that..."

Saul, who'd been in the process of reaching out to lay a hand on Nathan's arm, froze again. "I... used to believe that she did," he said after a moment, sounding troubled. "There's been evidence that she didn't. I'm not certain." Saul tilted his head, regarding him for a long moment. "Did you want to talk about your mother?" His voice was low, soothing. "We could do that as well, son..."

"Don't c-call me that." He reeled away from Saul's hand, and lost his grip on Haroun.

Haroun felt the hold go, and he took his shot. At this range, Nate had maybe a quarter-second to a half-second to react. Haroun didn't do anything fancy - straight shot, right for the back of the head. Not only would he get impact, but if he was lucky he'd bounce Saul's cranium off the mirrors over the sink. That would do well. Hit him hard, hit him fast, keep him off-balance.

Saul moved with a speed that should have been impossible for a man of his age. Just out of the way, but it was enough time for him to reach into his jacket and pull something out, some small, compact device. He pressed one of the panels along the side and Nathan crumpled to the floor with a cry.

"Stop," Saul said warningly to Haroun when he would have tried for another shot. "This is a miniature EMP generator, targeted to the frequency that disrupts Nathan's powers. Right now it's enough to incapacitate him, nothing more." He looked down at Nathan for a moment, his expression twisting briefly. "At its upper settings, he'll lose control and destroy this restaurant."

"S-Son of a..." Nathan choked out, trying to sit up. He couldn't, and sagged back to the floor, trying to think past the waves of pain that swept over him. The patterns in his mind were falling apart, fraying.

Saul sighed regretfully. "I'm optimistic, son, but I'm not an idiot. As I said, my brother is nowhere to be found at the moment, and I didn't entirely want to chance your mood."

Haroun shrugged. "Fine. Enjoy Hell." he said, and took another shot. The man was fast, so Haroun stepped it up another notch. He wasn't looking to just do damage this time - he wanted to destroy the arm holding onto the supposed "EMP generator". Funny how Nate crumpled but the lights in the restaurant stayed on, the fan with its unshielded motor kept running.

They didn't, a moment later, as Saul dodged Haroun's next shot. The lights flickered and went out, and the fan fell silent as Nathan convulsed on the floor. The partitions between the stalls uprooted themselves from their bolts and fell with a crash.

#Stop--# Nathan projected weakly at Haroun and Saul both, the thought splintering even as he pushed it outwards. He could feel it, far more focused than the rig Pete had used, a stiletto instead of a sledgehammer. But they hadn't known... Pete had lied to them. How the hell did Saul know? It didn't make sense, but it hurt, and Nathan curled in on himself, a noise close to a moan wrenching itself free of his throat.

Haroun was starting to feel a bit fuzzy himself, so he stopped his assault. "Fine." he said harshly. "We'll play this your way. For now." he said, already beginning to make plans on how he could end this waste of cellular material. Nate didn't want to end it, but Haroun had no such problems. For all the pain he'd caused, the misery, the bent lives, the people put at risk - there was only one possible solution.

Saul Morrow needed to die.

Saul immediately made some sort of adjustment to the device. "I've known for years," he said, looking down at Nathan, who slumped, shaking badly as the pain eased but didn't quite let up. There was still something disrupting the psionic patterns around him, as if the device was still on but set on low. "Known, and didn't tell Gideon. What does that tell you?"

He was lying on the floor and his father was standing over him. Lecturing him. Nathan was slipping badly, back into memories that his adult mind knew were fabrications but that still hadn't faded. "Don't... please... don't leave me in the woods..."

Haroun heard his friend beg and his heart broke all over again for him. He used to to fuel his desire, his need to put this man to an end. He couldn't do it now - before he could land the killing blow he'd kill Nathan and everyone in this restaurant. And since he was in civvies he didn't even have so much as a knife on him. Damn. He's gone soft since he came to America. Soft and weak. Once there was a time when he'd have dropped the old man no matter the cost. Haroun did, however, step between Saul and Nathan. "Get out." he said, voice flat and promising a messy death if Saul disobeyed. "Get out now before I forget about your little toy and crush your throat like an egg."

Saul was staring down at Nathan, his expression a complex mixture of emotions that an empath would have had difficulty sorting out. But there was a realization there, a shocked realization edged with something close to pain.

And he took a step back. His eyes stayed locked on Nathan until he had backed up to the door. Then he turned and left, without a word.

Haroun watched Saul leave, and once he was out the door he turned to Nathan. "Come on, let's go." he said, offering a hand to help his friend up. "We have to report this, mount up. We know he's in the area, we can get one of the other telepaths to pinpoint him. Time to swing the hammer and hammer him down once and for all."

There was no answer, and Nathan didn't move, let alone take his hand. The only response as Haroun leaned closer was a disjointed series of images and impressions, the bitter Alaska winter and a voice that was Saul's and wasn't raised in angry contempt, a shape with no face standing over him...

Haroun shook his head like a bulldog. "Don't make me hit you, old man. Come on, on your feet, soldier!" he barked, trying to get Nate's remaining discipline to bypass his brain and follow orders. "We have to move out. Now. It's not safe to stay here." In fact, he could never come back here again.

A damned shame, the soup was fabulous here.