xp_logs | Out of the Ashes

Nathan wanders down to see Cain at the boathouse. They have a brief conversation about Gideon, Cain quotes 'The Untouchables', and then they head off to join Haller at Harry's. Lucky Jim, getting to drink with these two.

The boathouse door was open; Nathan gave it a token knock and then stepped inside, sensing Cain inside and not engrossed in anything that he'd mind being interrupted. "I was going to bring the spawn of Satan," he said, "but she threw Mr. Bunny at my head, rolled over, and went right back to sleep."

Cain looked up and chuckled, motioning towards the official-looking papers on the coffee table. "Hell, I'll bet I could even get her to pass the state standards for this History class."

"Are you kidding? My darling daughter is going to grow up and demonstrate a natural gift for history. Or genetics. Or possibly both." Nathan came over and sat down, covering a yawn with one hand. "Congratulations, by the way. I actually had a couple of side bets going that you would get them all passed."

"It ain't easy," Cain said, squaring up a few index cards for the week's lessons. "I'll give you that. But they make it worth it, you know? Course you do," he amended, "You only taught what, twelve classes here?"

Nathan gave him a wry look. "Technically taught twelve. Was the world's best absentee teacher."

"Huh," Cain replied without looking up. "Suppose that's one way to look at it. You've had enough to worry about, I figure. Busy few months, huh?"

"Busy is one way to put it." Nathan's fingers tapped out an idle rhythm on the arm of the couch. "I had one of the kids tell me I ought to start teaching again. And enough interest in these independent studies to make me think... well, I don't know." He shrugged. "Hard to balance it with everything else I'm trying to do, even if I'm on a four-month plus streak of staying out of the infirmary." He mustered up a dry smile. "Knock on wood."

"Hey, I'm coming up on a year now," the big man shot back, "Must be my good habits rubbing off on you. So," he said, casually looking at his knuckles. "When we going after your uncle?"

Nathan gazed at him for a long moment. "We're not," he finally said, his voice low. "At least, not in the way that would be most immediately satisfying. But," he went on, his tone still level but an alarming glitter in his gray suddenly, "if I manage to do half of what I have in mind? He's going to wish I had just showed up in Philadelphia intending to kill his ass."

Laughing out loud, Cain stood up to stand next to Nathan, nodding his head. "Now you're thinking. He wants to play games, you play 'em right back. He takes a low blow, you take one lower."

"I'm going to Muir on the weekend," Nathan said, his smile thin, "with a bank account number for MacInnis and the Pack. The only thing better than playing games is being married to a woman with enough disposable income to buy us all the best toys."

"About time," Cain answered. "You know as well as I do, comes to protecting your family, there ain't no line you can't be willing to cross. And rest assured, your family's resting up in that big house, not sitting somewhere trying to figure out how to fuck you over next. Like the man said, they put one of yours in the hospital, you put one of theirs in the morgue."

Cain mused on that for a while. "They put one of yours in the morgue," he concluded, "you send the bastards to Hell."

"I have to be careful," Nathan said. "I can't beat them just to turn into them." His smile was tighter, suddenly, but had more humor behind it. "Moira's doing more than writing cheques. I think she's as sick of him terrorizing her as I am. If he's got any business relationships left in the UK when she gets done with him, I'd be terribly surprised."

"Break the bastards," Cain insisted, "any way you can, but you make sure that when it's done, you're standing. They're not. It's that simple."

"It's not that simple. I don't want them dying proud of me," Nathan growled, and then sighed, covering his eyes with a hand for a moment. "Sorry. I can think, this week, but I'm still on edge. I have to shake that."

Cain smacked a fist into the wall, the thump reverberating through the building. "The hell it ain't!" he yelled."You need to stop giving a tinker's damn about what they think! Proud of you, ashamed of you, whatever. Far as you need to be concerned, those two are strangers to you. They ain't family to you, not like this."

Nathan let his hand fall. "Stop punching your wall," he said a little irritably. "Next thing you'll be knocking it down." He eyed Cain for a moment. "Maybe you're right, but I can't just toss everything aside and go for the jugular. Partly because I don't want it to be simple," he admitted. "I don't want him just dead. I want him ruined. I want him regretting every choice he made about me..." Nathan made a face. "Listen to me. Them. Not just Gideon. Saul, too."

"Y'ask me, dead's just as good. But so long as you're set on this." Cain shook his hand, then shoved both large mitts into his pockets. "You want to see this through all the way, I'm with you."

"Good. Because you do have an advantage," Nathan pointed out. "Uncle Fucker-" Cain had casually used the nickname to him, back before Christmas, and it had tickled him. "-can't synch to you."

Laughing, Cain rocked back on his heels. "Man, you got no idea how many times I've been replaying that moment in Chad in my head. And in the Danger Room. Next time, I'm dropping that damn bus on him. But hey," he quickly changed tone, nodding towards the door. "Whaddya say about a round at Harry's? Haller's buying."

"Sure," Nathan said with a chuckle, telling himself to relax. Couldn't stay on that particular edge 24/7 or he'd burn himself out before he got anything accomplished. "I appreciate being able to have a beer again without getting stupidly drunk, have I mentioned that lately?"

"Sounds good to me," Cain agreed, heading for the door. "Let's see how many it takes to get the new guy blitzed. Good times."

"You're very easily entertained," Nathan scoffed, following him.

~*~

Much later that night, after returning from Harry's, Nathan heads up to the flyer's platform with something very specific in mind. Haroun, who happens to be up there - enjoying the view? Mourning bad ring-wearing choices? - gets to witness something rather remarkable.

Nathan took a deep breath of the cold air, then let it out again -then smiled as he stepped outside and got visual confirmation of what he'd sensed. The flyer's platform was indeed occupied. "I hear you might be using this on a regular basis again," he said to Haroun, pulling the door closed behind him.

Haroun grinned. "Maybe." he said. "Got horizontal down, still not quite ready to try vertical." he said with a nervous chuckle. "That's one leap of faith I plan to make in the light of day. Although the darkness would hide the splat quite nicely ..." he said, thinking of Sam and furrows into the ground.

Nathan stared out at the snowy grounds. It was snowing, just very lightly, little glitters of silver dancing through the air around them. "It's pretty out tonight," he said quietly. He felt calmer tonight. Catching up on his sleep was definitely helping; the grief was still there, but muted. No longer overwhelming. Relaxing down at Harry's had helped even more. Maybe it was the beer that was making him willing to try this tonight, after weeks of thinking about it?

"Yes. Yes, it is," Haroun said, watching the snowflakes fall.

Nathan took off his gloves, one at a time, slowly. "Didn't expect anyone to be up here," he murmured. "When I sensed you, though, it tickled my sense of the appropriate. You were the one giving me such a hard time about this, after all. Might be enjoyable to see yourself proved right." He gave Haroun a subdued smile, to indicate that he wasn't actually giving him a hard time about anything here, even if he was being enigmatic.

Haroun quirked a single eyebrow at his friend. "Oh? You've found God?" he smirked, being fairly confident that that was, in fact, not what Nathan was referring to. "Took you long enough."

"Keep dreaming," Nathan said tolerantly, stuffing the gloves in his pocket. He took another deep breath, let it out, then took another. Cleansing breaths. He was actually fairly nervous about this. "There's another consideration," he said. "If I show this to you first... you'll be ready for Alison's reaction when she sees it. And I made very sure she was occupied and well away from any windows before I came up to do this, because I don't want her seeing it by accident."

Haroun laughed. "You are definitely up to no good." he said. "So -what have you been working on while our collective backs have been turned?"

"An old trick. And not mine, originally," Nathan said, then held out both hands, palms up, and concentrated. "But it worked once," he murmured, closing his eyes.

It was barely noticeable at first. A faint, wan glow gathered around his hands, spreading slowly up his arms. Brightening fractionally.

Haroun watched Nathan for a moment. "Congratulations. You've figured out how to glow. Should I go get my sunglasses?" he asked with a grin.

Nathan didn't answer. His brow was creased in concentration, a few beads of sweat standing out despite the chill of the night. It was harder than he'd thought it would be. The patterns were so complex, and without Askani sitting in the back of his mind, they didn't feel natural, like they had on that mission in Canada.

The glow spread farther, until he had that faint all-over aura. At that point, patterns settled neatly into place, and the sense of tension was gone. Nathan exhaled on a relieved sigh, and then looked at Haroun.

"Tim would have gotten a kick out of this," he said, and the glow turned into insubstantial flame, blindingly bright as the firebird roared into life around him, unfolding immense wings.

Haroun blinked at the manifestation of the firebird. "Impressive." he said. "Showy, but impressive. And yeah, it does kinda remind me of Tim a little."

"You didn't see this, last February. Too busy trying to blow up a helicopter, I think." Nathan turned away and, absurdly, felt the need for a running start. As if he needed to trick his mind into thinking that he had momentum.

He stepped off the platform, dove, and then soared, careful to keep well above the mansion so that the firebird wasn't visible from any of the windows. Cain, down at the boathouse, might see something if he was looking out the windows, but Nathan figured he was equally likely to shake his head and go back to the television if he did. He hoped.

He just... didn't want anyone but Haroun to see it, before he showed Alison. Nathan closed his eyes and caught the updraft, feeling the pressure of the wind on the exoskeleton's wings.

Haroun blinked. "Now I'm impressed." he said. "Nice work. Finally figured out how to fly, did you?"

Nathan dove again, looping around and then coming to a perfect stop on the platform. The firebird collapsed inwards, flickering and vanishing, and he took a deep breath. No stress, no sense of strain. It had felt natural after all.

"Haven't tested how high or far or fast," he said, then smiled at Haroun a bit tentatively. "I need to show Alison. It brings up some memories, and I don't want to upset her... but it might help, too. I don't know."

Haroun shrugged. "Not being a telepath, I can only guess. But she likes beautiful things - luckily, she decided she also likes me - and that construct was ... beautiful." he admitted. "Even if I didn't know what it represented."

"Askani," Nathan said, then sighed. "I know, you have... ambivalent feelings, even now. But this is what she helped me do back in Canada last February, to fight Tim. And there was a Danger Room session back before Christmas..." Nathan made a face, pulling his gloves back out of his pockets. "Alison flared up in the shape of a firebird. Residual image-impression from Askani's psi-energy having saved her life at the Hellfire Club. But I lost it at her."

Haroun shrugged. "It's really not mine to judge either way. Doesn't stop me from doing it anyway, but in all fairness, the Askani was always your crutch, your burden. Not mine."

Crutch. Burden. Neither. "But do you see what I'm saying? Why I need you to know that I'm showing Alison?" Nathan said with a vague sort of worry as he pulled on his gloves. "She was important to both of us, and we lost her... we were going to anyway, but it was so sudden. And Alison has the added burden of knowing that it was to save her life."

Haroun exhaled as he thought it through. Then he nodded, once. "As you say." he said. "~It will give her some peace.~" he said in Farsi.

"~I want that, for her. For both of you, I suppose...~" Nathan blinked suddenly, telling himself that it was just his emotions still being raw. But he couldn't help but remember what Jack had said to him, about closing himself off, trying to keep people at a distance.

And he couldn't, because he wasn't. Because like it or not, there were people who had gotten into his blood. And the man standing in front of him and the woman they were talking about were both very high on that list.

Haroun, a demonstrative sort of man, pulled his friend into a hug. "~And I want ... we both want ... for Askani's memory to be cherished by those who knew her.~" he said, still in Farsi. "~Celebrate life.~"

"~Thank you,~" Nathan said a bit shakily, a bit gruffly, but didn't pull away from the hug. When Haroun let him go, he mustered up a slightly unsteady smile. "~You realize I'm going to need flight training, now. Think you could see your way clear to getting yourself back in the air full-time so that you could give me a hand with that?~"

Haroun grinned. "~I just might have to.~" he said. "I'd try it now, except you're not an inch or so shorter than I am, blonde, blue-eyed, and female." he laughed. "If I tried my first solo without her there I'd never hear the end of it."