xp_logs | log: [Julio and Nathan]

Nathan's up and about, and he's visiting a recovering Julio. Nathan has some advice that Julio might actually listen to.

At first, everyone thought Julio would be out of the medlab in a couple of days. But even several days after waking up, he still hadn't been able to get up. His bruises were yellowing and his aches were going away, but he still had no energy. He was polite enough to the medstaff and to the volunteers who would visit him, but he literally had nothing to say to them. He spent his days napping, staring at the ceiling or listening to the small portable radio one of the girls had provided him with. He kept it carefully tuned away from any news stations.

"I hear the general consensus is that you've forgotten how to walk," came a far raspier-than-usual voice from the door, and Nathan smiled tiredly as he shuffled in. His arm was still in a cast and sling, and the shaved patch on the side of his head from the brain biopsy was still covered by a bandage. He looked exhausted, years older than he had a week before, and the less said about the lassitude that had followed the final breaking of his fever, the better. But he had needed to see Julio.

Julio looked up from the radio, startled. It was Nathan, his father's friend. This warranted actually sitting up. Julio eased himself into a sitting position with his legs crossed. "No," he said with a small smile. "I can still walk. The frightening woman makes me do it before I eat."

"Ah. Yes. I'm not surprised to hear that... Amelia has very rigorous ideas about what constitutes recovery." He was breathing heavily, even just walking here from his own room, and Nathan sank down into the chair beside Julio's bed gratefully. "How are you feeling?"

Julio snorted. "Aside from the fact that I am responsible for one of the worst disasters in this country?" He waved a hand towards the radio. "I am good," he said dully. "I am starting to have fewer bruises than skin, finally."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Julio," he said wearily, "it's going to take a long time, a lot of talking to people better qualified than I am to make you believe this... but the repetition isn't going to hurt. This wasn't your fault. This wasn't even something you did accidentally. This is something you were forced to do."

The younger boy sighed. "Si, si, I know. It is what every person who has come in here for the past two days has said." Julio rolled his eyes, "it is not your fault, boy, it was the crazy man in the red helmet who did it," he said in a decent imitation of an American accent. "That is good, and all, but I still felt the city. I felt it as it...fell down." He gripped the metal support on his bed.

Nathan tilted his head - then balanced his good elbow on the arm of the chair so that he could rest his head in his hand, because he was tilting a little too far here, really. "Did your father ever tell you anything about what my life was like before he knew me?"

Julio thought for a moment. "That you had years of training, but you could not handle an assault rifle properly until you met him."

Almost despite himself, Nathan smiled. Almost grinned, actually. "Your father is full of shit. I say that affectionately, mind you..."

That got a small chuckle out of Julio. "I know that. The old man likes to say he lost his finger from fending off an escaped mountain lion."

"The real story's a lot less glamorous. Also a good lesson in why... well, pretty much anyone needs to let me handle the explosives. Not just your father." Nathan rubbed at his jaw - he was getting disturbingly bearded again, and was likely to wake up with Moira sitting on his chest shaving him one of these mornings. "I was used as a weapon, too," he said after a moment. "Starting when I was even younger than you. For years and years. I killed people, blew things up... I'm not trying to draw false parallels here, Julio, or be patronizing. I just... know what it's like to feel responsible for the damage you see, even if there wasn't much you could do to stop it. The helplessness... I get that."

Julio frowned. "It would be easier if people were blaming me. Then I could fight them, defend myself. But everyone is so understanding, it makes me feel..." Julio rubbed his head, frustrated, searching for the right words. "I feel even worse, when they understand. Even more....helpless."

"You feel like a victim." And Luis Richter's son wouldn't appreciate that feeling, not if he was anything like his old man. "See," Nathan said a bit wryly, "people have a bit of a dilemma. They can't blame you, because it's not your fault - and these are good people, who want to help you. But when they emphasize that you weren't in control, they make you feel even more helpless."

Julio nodded. "Exactly! They do not get it, and then get offended when I get mad. I know they are trying to help, but I would rather they just not say anything." He thought for a moment, then added, "and I wish they would quit calling me amigo."

Nathan caught himself smiling again. Yeah, definitely Luis's son... "Then I have a suggestion," he said. "You need to focus on getting your feet and out of here. Recovering, so that you can start learning how to control your power. That's when you'll stop feeling like a victim, Julio."

Julio leaned back against his pillow. "Yes, but that means going outside." Where the rest of the "students" were. He would never admit it, but he was scared. Of them, and of the fact that no matter how many times people reassured him that Magneto wasn't going to bust through the wall, he still had nightmares of being kidnapped again.

Nathan tapped a finger against his jaw. "Would it..." He stopped, taking a moment to compose his thoughts before he went on. "My wife and I, we live down in the boathouse with our daughter. It's close to the school, but not in the school. We don't have a lot of room, but we do have a couch with a rollout-bed in the living room." He gave Julio a slightly helpless look. "It's not a long-term solution, but it might help for a while. If you didn't have to be in the thick of things."

"That would be..." Julio sighed, "I would like that. But I do not want to get in the way. If there is not too much room, I can stay wherever they put me." He plucked at the hem of his borrowed t-shirt. His father had asked over the phone what he wanted Ana to pack and send to him. Julio knew he wouldn't be going home for a long time, so he would have to get used to living here. One way or the other.

"We can try this for a while. Until you feel like moving into the school proper." It would have to happen eventually, but if this made it easier for Julio at first... he'd have to check with Moira, but he couldn't imagine her disagreeing. "You'll get to meet my daughter," he said with another tired smile.

"You have a daughter?" Julio said, trying not to sound too interested. He liked kids, coming from a family as large as his you had to, or be driven mad.

"Yes. Rachel. She'll be a year old in another few weeks." Nathan smiled again, almost wistfully this time. Moira had promised to bring Rachel down to the infirmary tonight to see him. It felt very wrong, not having seen her for days. "She flies."

It was a testament to everything that Julio had been through in past few days that this only got a slightly interested "Oh?" out of him.

"You'll see." Nathan took a cautious deep breath and then let it out. His lungs hurt, but the coughing had more or less stopped, if he was careful. "I'll probably be in here for another day or so - they want to keep an eye on me. We'll have to ask Amelia, see when she's going to let you out of her clutches."

That got a real smile out of Julio. "My father always said you were accident-prone, I thought he was just exagerating again." He stretched out his legs, wincing a little. When he could, Julio was going to run and not stop until he fell over, the lack of exercise made him feel terrible. "She will not let me go until she takes more blood. I say she has enough of it, but she still wants more."

"She's a vampire," Nathan confided. "It's a well-known fact."

"Two weeks ago I would have known you were joking." Julio replied. "Now, I am not so sure."

"Actually, it's an inside joke. In some stories, vampires can change into mist, and that's Amelia's mutant power. Her natural form is actually mist - she teleports, too. And doesn't need to sleep or eat," Nathan said wryly, "which is why she makes such a good doctor for this place."

"Her....como se?... bedside manner lacks something." Julio said wryly. He didn't apppreciate the threats of being tied to his bed while she ran tests on him. She was especially displeased when the boy from the room across the infirmary left, and she'd been taking it out on him.

"You get used to her after a while. Well... no, actually, you don't. But you pretend. It's a pride thing." Nathan tugged at the strap of his sling.

Julio nodded gravely. "Could you let her know I talked to you? She said she would not feed me until I did."

"I will," Nathan said with a tentative nod, as he pushed himself up out of the chair, tottering a little. Oh, yes. About ready for bed again himself. "I'll make sure Moira comes and looks in on you, too. She's the nicer redhead."

"Moria? Ah. She would be the one I cannot understand." Julio prided himself on his English, he was the best at conversational English out of his entire school. But he would be damned if he didn't understand a thing the woman said. She was, however, the nicer doctor. Even if she threatened to withhold food if he didn't get up and walk around as well.

"That would be my wife, Julio," Nathan said with a smile. "You get used to the accent."

Julio backpedaled quickly. "She's very nice. And pretty." And she gave good headrubs after he'd had a nightmare. "Thank you, Nathan. For, seeing me and ....everything else."

Nathan paused at the doorway. Not just to lean, although that helped. "De nada," he said. "Get some more rest, all right?"

"I will." Julio promised, as he watched the older man shuffle slowly away. He lay back down with a sigh. He couldn't see himself being able to do anything but rest for now. Turning, he upped the volume on the radio. American radio stations sucked, but it was better than listening to the machines.