xp_logs | LOG: [Nathan, Haller] Necessary talks

Nate decides to ambush Haller to talk about what happened in San Diego, but getting the right personality is a little like Russian roulette these days. And yet, thankfully, not as futile as it seems.

It had been a long time since Jim had voluntarily gone barefoot outdoors, but he liked squelching as he walked even less. He hoped that his shoes would dry soon. He didn't own any more, and he wasn't going anywhere near his leathers even if the boots would fit.

The myriad of tiny pebbles sticking to the soles of his feet were annoying. Jim did his best to ignore them, instead studying the half-submerged log a little ways down the shore. A turtle had pushed its way out of the water to sun itself, one back foot still dipped in the water. It definitely wasn't moving anytime soon. Jim let his hand flow across the paper, eyes flicking back and forth between pad and log. A few feet away something was chirping in the grass. It was a nice day.

Nathan had been working in the office when he'd had one of those brief moments of telepathy, just intense enough to let him register a presence on the shore not far away from the boathouse. Deciding that really, he didn't need to be working on a Sunday - Moira would probably scold him over the phone tonight if he confessed to that - he had put the file away and concentrated on composing his thoughts as he headed out to where he'd sensed Jim. He couldn't shield, per se, and wouldn't even if that had been possible - he really didn't want to get smacked upside the head again if he startled the younger man - but at the very least he could manage to not quite give away what he had in mind.

Jim blinked up from his sketchpad, the approaching psi-print registering just before the sound of the footsteps. It was Nathan. Oh no. This couldn't end well. Jim wanted to run, but that would be too obvious. Nathan was too close, and he'd already hurt the man's feelings once recently, except he didn't know what was going on or what to say to him, and how could he avoid another awkward conversation and oh my god are you kidding me HERE!

The younger man's posture changed. Cyndi tossed the sketchpad and pencil into the grass and leaned back on her palms, stretching out one of David's long legs. As Nathan approached she rolled her head around to regard him with half-lidded green eyes and an expression of exasperation.

"Yeah," she said, gazing up at the huge man, "what?"

Not Jim. "Cyndi?" Nathan ventured, raising an eyebrow.

"Smart man." Cyndi raised one hand to snap her fingers, punctuating it with a flash of fire. "Glad something hasn't fallen out of your head. I didn't even have to set you on fire. Whaddya want?"

All right. So this was going to be considerably more complicated than he thought. Nathan kept his expression smooth, not letting any of the frustration slip out. It was funny, he supposed, that he was more aggravated by the fact that Jim had apparently found a way to run from the conversation without actually running than he was startled by someone else looking out of his friend's eyes.

Then again, he'd had conversations with various Askani in the mirror often enough that multiple personalities in one head really wasn't as jarring a concept to him as it might have been. Except these personalities are all Jim. Does that mean he's not totally avoiding me? He supposed he could have been unlucky and gotten Jack instead...

Nathan sat down, leaving sufficient space between them so that he couldn't be interpreted as invading the other man's personal space. "I wanted to talk to Jim about San Diego," he said amiably, glancing sideways at Cyndi. "Since I can, now."

"Yeah?" Cyndi said, unimpressed. She lay down on her back and raised her hands in the air. "Maybe Jimmy doesn't want to talk right now. Or maybe it's my turn out so you can talk to me." In point of fact Jimmy was currently in the back of his head watching like someone witnessing an oncoming train about to reach a gap in the tracks, but Cyndi didn't really give a damn. He was the one who'd decided he couldn't cope with this. She briefly ignited the air a few inches from her hands and watched the fire plume. The leaves overhead withered slightly in the heat.

"Well, do you want to talk about San Diego?" Nathan asked, a little more calmly than he felt. One of the odd reactions he'd noticed in himself, without his powers, was occasional twitchiness around other people using theirs. It hadn't been a comfortable realization. "I remember the beach now. Guess my oft-rattled brain is finally healing up properly."

If it had been up to Jim they would have been speechless. He was, in their head. Of course, that was Jim's drama. And that was the point, really. Nathan had given Jim drama, and oh my god was she sick of it. Cyndi had nothing against the man, but she'd been sitting through Jim suffering nobly for weeks, and Jim suffering nobly was just about the most stupid-pointless thing ever. She was going to take it out on someone.

"Cool," Cyndi smirked, wiggling her fingers in the air. Fire weaved crazy patterns above her fingertips. "So like, do you remember what you were thinking when you deflected TK into your own head? Because that was awesome."

Cyndi smiled wider as inside their head Jim buried his face in his hands.

Nathan tilted his head, staring out at the lake and trying very hard not to smile. Could this be any more messy... "You know, I kind of wish I did?" he asked, something close to a twinkle in his eyes as he looked sideways at the younger man. "I mean, what good is it to put another entry in the Big Book of Stupid Cable Tricks if I can't remember what I was thinking when I did it? It lacks something..."

"Probably for the best. You gotta be running out of pages." Cyndi let the fire go and kicked herself over onto her side, propping one hand under her chin to stare at him with penetrating green eyes. "You wanna know why the wuss keeps running the other way? Because he feels bad that he's mad at you because you couldn't remember the beach because of something he did. Is that the stupidest thing you've ever heard or what? Jack may be completely nuts but that just goes to show you how much sense Jim makes. But y'know, I can see why he was pissed. Everyone talks about the cool shit in Youra and Ushuawhatever and crap, but here David holds back a frigging tidal wave with his brain and the guy standing right next to him doesn't even remember. God, like the kid didn't have enough of an inferiority complex." She gave a one-armed shrug. "But y'know. That's in the past."

Cyndi could feel Jim's horror and only rolled her eyes. Who's the one who ditched? When you start acting like a frigging adult you get a say in what comes out of our mouth. Until then, siddown and shuddup.

Nathan stared out at the water for long enough that had this been a normal conversation, the other person involved would probably have assumed he'd checked out mentally and wasn't planning on coming back anytime soon. Really, though, he was on the opposite end of the spectrum from 'detached'. He just felt like he had to be... deliberate, here. Like he had to find the precisely right words.

"It's not stupid," he said finally, quietly. "Or maybe it is, but it's also human. He feels the way he feels, but it's... clashing with the way he thinks he should feel. We make things complicated for ourselves sometimes, doing things like that..."

He was rubbing his bad arm, he realized, and made himself stop. "And it's not in the past," he said, glancing sideways again. "The fact that we're having this conversation is proof enough of that. But I think," he went on, "that if I can manage not to hold a grudge for the broken bones and the concussion, you can maybe try and work on not holding one for the consequences of the concussion. Especially since they're no longer an issue. I remember," he repeated, "and we can either talk about it now and consider the last seven weeks a delay in the conversation you've wanted so much to have. Or we can not." Nathan was silent for a moment before he shrugged with one shoulder. "In which case I'll just say thank you. Because I do remember very clearly that I would have died on that beach if you hadn't come through in that last moment."

Cyndi stared at him for a long moment, then slowly levered herself back into a sitting position on the grass. The pause that followed was just as long as Nathan's had been, and when the reply came it was in a completely different tone of voice than what had come before.

"I'm sorry," Jim said quietly, taking a deep breath. "For that and . . . before. That was stupid. I'm not so good at the, um . . . anything like expressing myself. You may've noticed." Jim shook his head, raising one hand to rub at it. Dead grass stuck to the back of his hair. "I'm sorry it got out of hand."

Finally! Behind him Cyndi sounded almost ecstatic. Was that so hard?

Nathan's deep breath was a little shaky, and he focused on the water for a moment, instead of on Jim. "It's okay. It is, you know," he said, and if his voice was a little hoarse, oh well. "If you'd told me what was going on before, I could have told you that." He smiled a bit unsteadily. "I know it probably wouldn't have helped the central problem, but at least you wouldn't have been worrying that I was going to think you were a horrible person for feeling that way. Don't you think I have some idea of how important it is to do something so... good with your powers, for the first time?"

"Yeah. I know. Like I said, stupid. I need to start talking to people who aren't me or else the voices start doing the sharing. Yay for the continuing healing process." He couldn't help but be thankful for Cyndi despite his mortification that she'd stepped in. Still looking out for David's best interests. Whether I want her to or not. Jim glanced over at Nathan and gave him a half-smile. "I'll try not to let Jack break you again. That's probably a good start."

"I'd appreciate that. Hard on the pride and all." Nathan watched as the turtle finally decided it had had sufficient sun and slipped back into the water with a splash. "The water's so quiet here," he said after another longish pause. "But now that I remember the beach, even looking out at the lake brings the image back to mind. It's like it's making up for all the weeks it wasn't there."

"I remember it. Every day." And next to that memory, too, was the knowledge that he couldn't do it again. San Diego had been a fluke born of necessity. Not repeatable. Not in all the pieces he'd torn himself into. Not for a long while.

But he'd done it, and someone else knew. And that was . . . enough.

Jim smiled faintly, mismatched eyes fixed on the v-shape ripples of the lake and the turtle skated beneath the surface.

"Something to work towards."