xp_logs | Nathan and Jim // Dolphins

Now that Nathan's been out of the infirmary for a while and is feeling better, Jim decides that it's time to tell him precisely why he won't be doing anything that dumb ever again. The message gets heard and understood. On his way out, Jim asks a casual question about the Cable-self's fixation with dolphins. It triggers a real memory of his childhood for Nathan - and a memory from ten years ago that he had never consciously seen for what it was.

"Nathan? Still alive in there?"

Nathan, in the midst of feeding a very irritated parrot, paused and blinked at the sound of Jim's voice from the hall. "Come in," he called, his voice still hoarse from all the coughing he'd been doing. Virus flare-up, of course, with the powers-strain. He didn't feel quite right yet, although the worst symptoms had diminished, and Moira had instructed him that he was having twice-daily bloodwork taken and that was that. Turning away from Bella's cage and rubbing his numb shoulder, he mustered up a faint smile for Jim as the younger man came in. "Hey."

"Hey." Jim gave him a quick once-over as he clicked the door shut behind him. "You're looking better. Vertical again, at least."

"Vertical is progress. I do feel better." Nathan sank down wearily on the couch almost instinctively, and then made a face, remembering his manners. "Uhh... coffee or anything?"

Jim shook his head, settling down in the chair across from him. "No, it's okay." He paused for a moment, resting his hands on his knees. Centering. "Um," he said, "okay. I have to tell you something. But before I do I want to say that I understand why you did what you did, and I know how hard a decision it was to make. That I can't even imagine what it must have been like for you, and that I'm glad that you're all right. And the fact you made it through, that you're alive and it's finally over -- that's all that matters now. Truly. Okay?"

Nathan gazed at him for a long moment. "Okay," he finally said, taking as deep a breath as his sore ribs would allow, then letting it out again. "But?"

Jim leaned forward in his chair and stared the older man directly in the eye. "If you ever do that to Moira again," he said, in clear, distinct tones, "I will fucking murder you."

Nathan didn't break eye contact. He'd seen enough of the way Jim talked about Moira, and the way Moira talked about Jim, to maybe, sort of, understand where the protective rage was coming from. "I don't intend to ever do anything like this again," he said quietly. "Even if, God forbid, I have more evil relatives come out of the woodwork at some point... I've done my part. The only thing that frightened me, the whole week Gideon had me, was the idea of not getting back to Moira and Ray."

"Oh good," Jim snarled, "because that makes it all better. What you thought." He was so angry he was shaking. This was irrational, he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. Thinking of what it could have done to Moira and Rachel, seeing what what it had done to Angelo -- it was too much. You left them, he thought, hands curling into fists. You left them and they almost didn't get you back.

"And if I hadn't left them," Nathan said aloud, "and taken the chance, I could have lost them. Any of them, except Rachel, because he wanted her alive to twist." He swallowed, telling himself that feeding off Jim's anger would not be a good idea here. "How many times did he prove that he could get to Moira anytime he wanted? How easy would it have been for him to arrange to be at the same meeting as Angelo a second time and make sure he didn't get safely home after? He got to Dom once, he could have done it again-" Nathan stopped, swallowing past the tightness in this throat, and not looking away from Jim's angry gaze. "I know it was risky. I know it was dumb. But I felt that it was the right thing to do, the only way to get out of this without losing anyone else."

"I know that. I know." And he did. He could already feel himself pulling back from the anger, talking himself down. It's not the same as it was with Abee. It's over, he's back, he's safe. It's okay. It's okay. Let it go. The fists in his lap unclenched. Jim took a deep breath and managed something like a smile at the other man. "I already said I knew that, didn't I?"

There was more at work here than just the anger at him, Nathan thought, but let it go. He was too tired, and it wasn't as if Jim was sticking to his position, or as if he hadn't been right anyway...

"You did," he agreed wearily. "And I didn't mean to argue, I guess... it's just I've been hearing it from a lot of people, and I know you're all right. But I was right, too... in a way, at least. And it is over."

"Yeah. We're understood, then." The tension in the younger man's posture ebbed away, replaced by something bordering on embarrassment. "And I'm sorry. I know you've been taking a lot of heat for this. I didn't mean to add to it. I just . . . if I let these things build up I can't control how it's released. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. The heat's all deserved." Nathan winced as he leaned back into the cushions, one hand going instinctively to his ribs. "Nothing I can say is going to change how dangerous and stupid it was. Nothing you or anyone else can say is going to change the fact that we're all safer, with Gideon gone... there's a kind of balance there. I'm hoping it'll find us eventually."

Jim smiled slightly. "Hey, I already told you I agreed that what you did made the world safer for everyone . . . not that you'd remember, I guess. You weren't quite yourself at the time. Oh, and I've also smacked you upside the head." He snapped his fingers. "Damn. Already used up my quota."

"If you smacked me right now, I think Moira would probably smack you. I may be vertical but I'm still a little wobbly." Something Jim had seen in his mind, maybe, while he'd been digging out the triggers? Had to be. "Thanks," he said suddenly. "Had I said that yet? I don't think I had..."

"It's okay. At the moment gratitude's the last thing you should be worrying about." Jim put his hands in his jacket pockets and grinned over at the other man. "And I wouldn't rest my hopes on Moira. I think I'm set with her for a while after I stopped her husband from falling down screaming on the flight home. She was . . . well, not happy to let me go out with the team, but less terrifyingly displeased than I thought she'd be." He purposely did not add his completing thought, which was: Because I asked permission.

"Wouldn't have fallen down screaming," Nathan pointed out. "Just would've fallen over... he had to actively trigger the other." He shuddered. "Used the old keywords from Mistra."

"I know." He'd seen it while he was in Nathan's mind; Gideon had torn open old wounds in which to anchor the hooks. Jim had closed them to the best of his ability, then smoothed over the stricken area with defenses of his own. He was determined that no one else was going to tear into Nathan's mind and exploit the scars. It's a good thing Mistra has already been destroyed, he thought, his eyes sliding away from the other man's, because if they weren't I'd kill the bastards myself.

"He was terribly impressed by himself, I think. Thought it was the perfect way to keep me under control without having to drag my drugged carcass around." Nathan's expression become somewhat hooded. "I had to... make him worry, about whether or not that was true."

"Overconfidence and impatience are a fatal combination. As he discovered." Once again Jim fixed the other man with his odd-colored eyes, softening. "It's okay," he said quietly. "It's over. You finished it. That's all that matters."

Nathan took a cautious breath and let it out again before he answered. "I keep telling myself that. Seems to be taking a while for the stress to bleed off, though."

Jim nodded. "It'll take some time to adjust. You've been carrying that weight for a long time. Freedom's a little . . . frightening." Thinking of his first encounter with Saul, weeks ago now, a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Now you all that's left is learning what it's like to live your life without the chains."

Nathan raised an eyebrow at him. "How did we go from you threatening to murder me to giving me advice? Wait," he said, a smile a bit more wry than Jim's, if not a lot stronger, "all of our conversations are usually odd in some way or another."

The younger man shrugged, still smiling. "I can be pretty inconsistant. Sorry. I probably should have warned you I get weirder the more you get to know us. Murder threats are a sign of trust. Or something."

"Sort of like how breaking a chair over my head used to be one of Dom's favorite expressions of affection," Nathan pointed out helpfully. "See, I get it."

"I knew I got along with her for a reason." There were things Jim needed to tell him. Things Nathan probably needed to talk through. But. . . now wasn't the time. Despite the dissipation of the tension in the room, Nathan was still emotionally and physically exhausted. He had enough on his hands adjusting to the facts he already had; Jim refused to give him one more. Set it aside. All things in their time.

"I'd better get going," Jim said, rising from his seat. "I've got a little credit with Moira after the search and rescue thing, but I think it's going to dry up fast if I screw with your convalescence. Better to quit while we're ahead, right?"

"There's that sense of self-preservation again. I ought to be taking notes." Nathan didn't get up; Jim could let himself out, and he was tired. "I need to go have a nap so that I can face the backlog of marking."

Jim made a face at him. "You should follow Scott's example and take a vacation. Really. If you blow up your brain before you're at least fully mobile again Moira's going to lock you in a padded room and steal all your paperwork. And I'll help." He reached out to the doorknob, then paused. "By the way . . . while on the subject of your brain, do dolphins mean anything to you?"

Nathan frowned. "Dolphins?"

"When I was in your mind one of the aspects I met kept talking about dolphins. We were on Askani's beach. He kept offering to make some . . ." Jim shook his head. "I thought it might mean something to you."

"Dolphins..." Making dolphins. Making... His heart was pounding in his ears and Nathan was peripherally aware of the fact that he was breathing too fast for someone with broken ribs. But he couldn't help it. There was an image there, and the image was stuck firmly in his mind - a silver dolphin on a chain, gleaming against a dark sweater.

And there was more, that was just the key. The dolphin was the key. Silver, not gold. What wasn't he remembering?

That look. He recognized that look. "What do you see?" Jim asked, his tone soft.

"I... a necklace," Nathan said numbly, blinking rapidly. His vision didn't want to see to clear. "A dolphin necklace, I..." He watched the image as a child's hand reached out for it. An adult's hand interceded, a soft, gentle voice laughing, chiding fondly.

Jim backed away from the door. He took a few steps towards Nathan, but no more. No invasion of space, no physical contact. Nothing that could interrupt the resurgence of memory. "It's okay," he murmured, "just let it come."

"She... dolphins. We lived in the woods and she always told me that someday I'd see dolphins..." The words were coming out, seemingly of their own accord, not connected to anything until he said them. And then he could hear her. Hear his mother's voice, as if she was there murmuring in his ear. "Someday, there'd be dolphins..."

And it hit him finally, all at once. There had been dolphins -in the Mediterranean, ten years ago, when he'd been in Israel while he and GW and David had first been organizing the Pack. They'd been in Tel Aviv and he'd gone for a walk on Gordon Beach, just to get some fresh air, clear his head.

It had been early in the morning. The beach hadn't been crowded at all. A few tourists, a few vendors - and a older woman, maybe in her fifties. She had been elegantly dressed in a white pantsuit, her silver hair close-cropped and glinting brightly in the sunlight. As he'd walked past her, he'd realized that she wasn't just staring out at the water, that there were dolphins out there, leaping and diving as if putting on a show.

My son would have loved this, she had murmured when he'd paused beside her to watch as well. Even back in those days, when he hadn't used his telepathy actively, he'd gotten a strong impression from her, the distinct feel of an intelligent and well-disciplined mind. He was fascinated by the idea of dolphins. I always promised him that I would take him to see them someday, but I never got the chance...

She had trailed off, pain in her voice, and had looked up at him with dark eyes filled with a fathomless sadness. Still raw from the pain of Tyler's loss earlier that year, Nathan had flinched, and responded more brusquely than he'd intended.

I'm sorry.

So am I. She had looked back out at the dolphins, an expression of utter exhaustion crossing her face. Nathan remembered thinking that she looked tired. Ill, maybe. We should all see our dreams realized. Then she'd smiled up at him, if wearily, and her eyes had grown warmer. Perhaps I should imagine my son here with me, watching the dolphins.

Jim stood in the middle of the room, calm and still, and watched the pieces falling into place -- watched the play of indecipherable emotion across a face that was pale, and stricken, and utterly lost. With him, yet apart. As it always was. As it had to be.

"And were there?" Jim asked, almost in a whisper.

"I remember playing with her necklace. When I was young." The words weren't doing much to anchor him in the here and now. "She didn't want me to break it, so she'd take it away from me, and show me... show me dolphins, in her mind, and tell me..." Why was he remembering this? Why now, why... Nathan knew why, and tears trickled silently down his face as his hands started to shake.

Not much of a replacement for actually having him here, I imagine, he had said to the woman. Trying not to sound too harsh. But her words had made him imagine a small blond boy standing next to him, watching the dolphins, and it had just hurt too much.

The woman had reached out, patting his arm gently, nothing but sympathy in her eyes. For some reason, he hadn't flinched. Hadn't thought about why, at the time, but there had been something soothing about her presence.

I have a very good imagination, she had said, and somehow, it had made him smile. What do you see when you look at them? A lightly-put question, as if out of idle curiosity.

I don't know, he'd demurred, a little taken aback by the direction the conversation had taken. He wasn't in the habit of having random conversations with strangers.

The first thing that pops into your mind, she had urged him softly.

That... they're beautiful, I guess. Beautiful and free. He'd heard the longing tone in his own voice on the last word. Envy, he supposed. Here he was, living a life without Mistra that wasn't unfolding in the way it should have. He hadn't left it all behind, not really. The violence and death was just going to be perpetuated, and how was he going to live with that?

It had been then that she had slid her arm through his - a total stranger, and yet she hadn't set off his tactical imperatives. Hadn't registered as a threat. Nathan had told himself at the time that she was just a lonely, sad old woman.

Had lied to himself, without ever quite recognizing it.

Jim was still standing there, listening. "It was her..." Nathan could hardly force the words out, couldn't see through his tears. "My m-mother... I saw her, and I never knew..."

Jim understood, instantly, what he meant, in essence if not detail. His knowledge of Nathan's mind had become too intimate to take the statement for anything but what it was. The holes, the scar tissue, an entire childhood, lost -- everything gone. Everything taken. Even the memory of his mother's face.

And yet somehow, still, there were dolphins.

"No," Jim said, "a part of you knew, Nate. It always has." Now he did close the distance between them, did reach a hand to the other man's shoulder. This was the right time for contact.

Reaching out, and falling away.

"Some part always knew," Jim repeated with quiet, unshakeable certainty. "And now so do you."

Nathan swallowed what would have been a sob, rubbing at his eyes. His mother. He had walked with his mother along Gordon Beach, until she'd told him that she needed to sit down, looking even more exhausted suddenly, as if the slow stroll had worn her out. Nathan had seen her to a bench and, not liking her color, had asked if there was anyone he could call.

She had merely shaken her head with a smile and told him no, that she would just sit and watch the dolphins for a while longer. Uncertain of what to say, he'd nodded and gone on his way, back to the meeting with GW and David and their first would-be employer.

The sob did escape this time as he remembered skimming through that first file the taskforce had given him, the one that included the copy of his mother's death certificate. So many of the details of that file hadn't stuck, given how shocked and unsettled he'd been, reading it. But one line from the death certificate came back now, and Nathan sank his face into his hands, crying.

Place of death, Tel Aviv, Israel.