Empty Quarter: Regrouping

[x-cable.livejournal.com]

Just before dawn on Saturday morning, the Blackbird returns home, having delivered both their precious cargo and their prisoners. Some of the kinks of the mission get dealt with, but perspective is also achieved, on several fronts.


Lorna stripped off her uniform gloves with unnecessary force and threw one at Nathan's back as they walked out of the hanger. Ororo, Kurt and Haller had gone on ahead already and it was just the two of them. The glove made a pleasantly heavy thunking sound as it struck him between the shoulder blades then fell to the floor.

Nathan flinched at the impact and then turned towards her. His expression was stony, but the look in his eyes, in contrast, was just tired. "What." It wasn't a question.

The fact that it wasn't didn't actually stop her. "We all get that you hate them. But tough. Abuse of helpless people who deserve it is still abuse of helpless people. You want to do that, you work with someone else." Her voice remained measured, nearly calm with the the edges fraying into upset.

He stooped to pick up her glove, moving stiffly. "I didn't hit him to abuse him. I hit him to knock him out, so that we had dead weight to carry instead of a conscious prisoner."

"Yeah, he was really struggling. I was amazed by how hard that was." She tucked her other glove into her belt and walked up to him to retrieve the first. "You hit him because you wanted to hurt him. If you're going to lie, tell a good one."

Nathan stared down at her, his expression flat and the look in his eyes still dull, and then handed her the glove. "Don't believe me, then," he said quietly, turning back in the direction of the locker room. He had to get somewhere quiet. Now. "I hit him for the reason I said I hit him. I won't deny that as soon as I did, it turned into something else." It had haunted him, on the way back. Because he'd thought of how good it had felt, and cringed inside... and then looked at the kids, and not felt bad at all... and then back at the unconscious neuropharmacologist, and it had just gone around and around for all the hours back on the plane.

"Nathan!" Lorna grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. "Don't walk away from me. I was there. I had him under control." She let go. "I'm going to recommended that any further missions with Mistra connections not include you as a field member. I know it's personal for you but it can't be out there."

Nathan stared down at her. "Fine," he said neutrally. His chest was getting tighter and tighter, and if it had been anyone but Lorna, he would have walked away right now. "It's probably a good idea. I doubt the issue will come up very often, but if you want to be on record on the subject you should do that."

"I'd really rather trust that you wouldn't be a risk in the field. I don't think it's a good idea to have to hamstring ourselves because the one person with the most knowledge about Mistra is the one person we can't take along." She was angry, yes. But she was also worried.

Nathan took a deep breath, then another, fighting the urge to breathe shallowly. "I tried too hard to pretend this wasn't bothering me," he said after a moment. He owed her the explanation. "The briefing, the trip there. Then there they were, and I just... I think maybe I should have volunteered to go for the kids instead."

"Yes, you really should have." Lorna's eyes narrowed suddenly, "Nathan...what's wrong with you?"

Nathan opened his mouth and then closed it, shaking his head. "I'm fine. I'm just tired," he forced out past the impossible tightness in his chest. "Flashbacks and my dead friends walking around and now an African mini-Mistra. It's not been such a great couple of weeks." It seemed so ridiculous, to be spontaneously... fraying like this, but that seemed to be precisely what he was doing.

Lorna had been suffering through panic attacks at inopportune moments for months. It wasn't difficult to recognize when it was happening to someone else. "Hey now. Come sit down." She slipped an arm around his waist and took him to a stack of crates, shoving one down so he could sit.

He let himself be led. It was taking all his effort to keep his breathing steady, and for some reason his head was still spinning just a little, despite all that work. "This is dumb," he said, almost conversationally, after a pause. "Literally, really dumb. It should take catastrophe to do this to me. Not just little things adding up."

"Does this happen often?" She dropped to one knee next to him, looking up with concern.

"No, it's been... well, no," he corrected a bit lamely, pulling off his own gloves. His hands were shaking. "It always happens. I'm just supposed to be able to hide it. I think it's just worse this time because it's all so complicated." And he wasn't making much sense. He swallowed, then reached out for coherency. "I have terrible after-action nerves. Always have had them. They're just... really bad today."

Lorna blinked, "Really? You've been a soldier for twenty-five years and you've been hiding nerves this entire time?" That seemed more than a little ridiculous to her. Of course 'supposed to' was even more ridiculous in her mind.

Nathan leaned back against the wall behind him, breathing out on a shuddering sigh. "It's conditioning - not the psionic sort. It was always worse after a mission was finished. Depending on how it went. Even total successes, it wasn't easy, because suddenly it was just you again, the tactical personality was quiet..." He swallowed. She didn't need to hear this. "If anything went wrong it was a lot worse. It's stupid. Old habits." He swallowed again, his throat getting even tighter. "You know why I didn't volunteer to go for the kids, right? I didn't want to see them if they were dead, again. I can't believe they were all alive when we got there."

She took his hands in hers, steadying the shaking. "Have you talked to your therapist about this at all? Tried to figure out how you can alleviate it instead of just suppressing it? Because that never works." Said the pot to the kettle.

He gave her a very faintly wry look, but couldn't quite hide the gratitude for the steadying touch. "I used to drink. When I was with the Pack. Not a good coping strategy. Why do you think I almost never went down to Harry's after missions when Haroun was all gung-ho to do that?" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, then another. "Usually I just pull myself together and then go hug my wife. Like I said, it's not usually this bad. I'm just have a bad couple of sanity weeks here."

"I figured it was that you were a supreme lightweight. I didn't go either," She shrugged and shifted knees. "None of us are having a great month. It's okay that you're not coping perfectly. God knows that you're doing better than me. How are you feeling now?"

"You have good reason to have a bad month. I just have... raw edges. Better, though," he said, and the slump to his shoulders had to do more with fatigue than anything else. "I'm sorry, Lorna. What I said... I meant what I said, but I know it's splitting hairs and I just shouldn't have done it in the first place."

She smiled, "I think you have good reason too. Come on, let's get you to the hugging your wife stage." Lorna hesitated, "I'm still going to talk to Ororo. But I won't request that you be taken off field work."

"Okay." He didn't say anything else until they were both on their feet and headed in the direction of the locker room again. "I think I'm going to let Angelo run the office tomorrow. Think I'd like a day off."

"Slacker," she accused affectionately and patted his shoulder. "I think that sounds like a fine plan."

He looked down at her, focusing properly again. "You've got-" He gestured vaguely at his own face. "Sandburn?"

Lorna shrugged, "Only a bit. That's what happens when you run through a sandstorm. You do too."

"As mementos go, it's a unique one." He was going to use up a significant amount of hot water, he thought. "Next time we have to do something where we can't be identified we need to do it someplace snowy."

"So that we can get frostbite instead? You know that we have a cryokinetic on the team, right? You could always ask him if you're dying to be frozen." She wrinkled her nose and felt the abraded skin at her temple pull. "I prefer the desert thanks. Maybe I'll design a mask for this thing. It works for real superheros."

—

Lorna caught up to Ororo in the locker room after talking to Nate and walked over, expression thoughtful and concerned, her posture still businesslike. "Storm, I'd like to talk to you about Cable when you have a minute. I have something that I don't really think needs to be in my report but I think I need to talk to you about anyway."

There was nothing Ororo wanted more that moment than a long, hot shower - she had sand and grit in places she didn't want to think about. However, as soon as Lorna approached she straightened up, raising her eyebrows slightly with interest. "Go right ahead, I would like to hear what you have to say."

Lorna leaned against the lockers. "I don't think that Cable should be put on field work in situations directly related or closely paralleling Mistra operations. I'm concerned about his ability to handle it professionally." She wanted to wring her hands but tried to remain outwardly calm at least. "Cable knocked out a helpless man. He said that it wasn't vindictive but I have a hard time believing that though I don't doubt that he does. He knows that I'm discussing this with you by the way. I'm not bringing this up behind his back."

Ororo nodded, though inwardly she was close to banging her head on the wall. "Very well. That sounds as if there is cause for concern - could you describe the situation in more detail for me, please?"

Taking a deep breath, Lorna let her eyes close as she recalled the scene. "Cable and I entered. He neutralized the three guards while I secured the two scientists. The first was sitting in a metal chair so I reshaped it to hold him. The other--the empathy--I engaged and knocked unconscious by, um, pushing him into a wall. Cable then walked over and punched the first scientist knocking him out, stating that he'd be easier to transport that way." She opened her eyes again. "There was no way out of that chair, 'Ro. Not while I was holding it."

Ororo's expression grew grimmer as Lorna relayed what had happened - she agreed that it certainly seemed as if there had been a lapse of good judgment on Nathan's part. Of course, there were always two sides to each story, and she needed to hear his side before jumping to any conclusions. "Thank you, Lorna," she said, nodding. "I will certainly speak with Nathan about this. I agree that there is reason for concern. Thank you for bringing it to my attention." She tried a smile then, knowing Lorna was liable to worry even after getting this off her chest. "You did an excellent job today."

"I just did what I'm supposed to do." Lorna shrugged her left shoulder, a habit she'd never quite shaken while healing from her burns. "I've already spoken to him about it. He'll be expecting to hear from you." She spread her hands, a little helpless, "We have an obligation to be better than just acceptable. If we degenerate into needless violence…" There wasn't really a need to finish that statement.

"I will speak with him," Ororo said reassuringly. "Now, I do not know about you, but I need a shower. And some tea. Would you join me in the kitchen in an hour, perhaps?"

"God, yes. To all of that. I think I have sand in places that I didn't even know I had." Lorna finally relaxed. "That sandstorm was great but I think even my eyeslashes are gritty."

Shaking her head ruefully, Ororo led the way into the locker room. "It was certainly messy. And do not tell Scott, but I think some of the goggles may have been scratched…"

—

"You know, for a mission that went this well... we're a bunch of awfully pensive-looking people."

The comment was directed at Kurt, who was sitting on the bench in the men's locker room - still. He'd been sitting on the bench when Nathan had gotten into the shower, and didn't appear to have moved.

"You've got sand in your hair still," Nathan observed after a moment as he went over to his locker and got dressed. Just school sweats, enough to see him back out to the boathouse. Where he was planning to collapse, after some hugging of his wife.

Kurt stirred from his thoughts after another moment, reaching up to brush at his hair. "I have not showered yet," he remarked, seemingly just for something to say that didn't make him think too hard. "And yes, it did go very well."

The shower had revived him - fractionally. Even if he been leaning against the wall of the shower and shaking, most of the time. But it had given him enough energy to go over and sit down beside Kurt on the bench.

"You should do that. And then get some sleep. It's not as if we haven't all been up for a little longer than usual, here."

"In a little while," Kurt agreed, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. "Though I am used to short nights." He'd got into the habit of rising with the dawn many years ago, and never really got out of it even now.

Nathan smiled a bit humorlessly, resting his hands on his knees and wishing that it didn't feel so much like it was bracing himself. "We've all got our after-mission routines, I guess. I don't... think I'll be sleeping all that well myself."

Kurt looked at him sideways, concerned - and, to an extent, glad of the distraction onto someone else's problems. "Did something happen that I do not know about?"

"It'll be in my report?" The laugh that followed was tired-sounding, and a little strained. "And Lorna's report... it's nothing to worry about right now though, Kurt."

He looked at Nathan for a moment longer, then nodded tiredly. "Very well. I will read it in the reports."

"Kurt... go have a shower and go to bed," Nathan said after a moment, the smile still tired, but a little warmer. "Shut the XO off for the night. We did good. Time to get some rest."

Another nod, and he pushed himself slowly to his feet. "I will see you in the morning?"

Nathan nodded, and watched Kurt head towards the showers. "Kurt..." he said, almost automatically. "Those kids..."

Kurt stopped in his tracks, turning. The kids were a good thing to focus on, he told himself. Better the ones he'd helped save than the news from the medlab just before he left. "Yes?"

He was possibly the biggest hypocrite in the world, giving advice, after his own reaction to this mission. But that was part of being who they were, doing what they did. You reached out when you could, even if you weren't entirely steady yourself. It was the only way any of this worked.

"Remember their faces," Nathan said a bit distantly, looking at the lockers, instead of Kurt. "When you remember what happened to Marius, remember them too. We do what we can - we help when we can - and sometimes it does work out."

"Is that what...?" But he stopped before finishing the question, because of course it was what Nathan did. "It is good advice... and I will try my best. Thank you."

"You're a good man, Kurt," Nathan said, pushing himself up off the bench and tottering a little with tiredness. "I'm going to go kiss my daughter."

"Say hello to her from me," Kurt said with a ghost of a smile.

Comments

[x-rahne.livejournal.com]

*just hugs everybody*

Somebody should maybe point out to Kurt that despite the smoke thing nobody he's teleported with has ever come back with acid burns....