xp_logs | Alcatraz: "...49 square miles surrounded by reality" (5/5)

The road home tends to be a little longer than usual after nights like this.

"I need an aspirin the size of New York City," Nathan muttered as they left the command centre. Langstrom had wanted to keep them, but Duncan had stepped in, reminding the other man that the X-Men had wounded to check on. It had been a pretty humane thing to do, not that Nathan hadn't already had a pretty high opinion of the X-Men's favorite member of the FBI. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Lorna said and shook her head, "Ack, ears are still ringing. Remind me to wear earplugs on missions from now on. I'm okay, a bit singed." Her hand circled around behind her back where the leather had been burned away to expose blackened metal. Other parts of her uniform had fared no better, the leather sliced and scraped. "You'd think that guy could have been at least a little grateful we saved the city."

"And took a number of the terrorists into custody," Nathan said, half-whimsically. "Although I'm still annoyed that Saidullayev got away." He grimaced, thinking about the Chechen telekinetic. "Well. We don't do this for gratitude, do we? And someone with a mindset like Langstrom's - just because we were useful doesn't mean we aren't still threats to everything he holds dear."

"Excuse me, I took a number into custody. You let yours get away." She was just teasing, though she was too tired to put much inflection behind it. Still it was a familiar sort of banter. "Did you get the feeling that he'd have rather let the city blow up than ask us?"

"Just a little. Did I care? No." Nathan paused, staring out hard at the lights of Alcatraz. There were people going over the island with a fine-toothed comb, he knew. He turned around, his attention shifting to the eastern sky. Still no sign of dawn just yet. If they were lucky, they could fly out of here under cover of darkness. "I feel like I've stepped back in time," he said, somewhat vaguely. "I'm not sure I like the feeling. But... all's well that ends well. We got the job done."

"We always get the job done, sometimes more sucessfully than others. What do you mean by back in time?" Lorna asked, nudging him back into motion, wanting him to walk while he mused. "How so?

"I did this so often. With Mistra, mostly, but a few times with the Pack too. Not always nukes. Sometimes chemical, or biological weapons..." Nathan shrugged tiredly, but kept walking. The Blackbird was up ahead, as was the makeshift triage tent. "Half the time the stress was worse than the op itself."

"In this case, our team was worse than the op itself. How about we run our own coms from now on? I'm not really loving the dog and pony show we had to put on there." Which was absolutely the understatement of the day.

"Unavoidable." Nathan sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I've done more bizarre things on the fly when necessity called for it." That was nicely vague, just in case anyone was listening in.

"Creeps me out to have people who aren't our team listening in." She gave him a half-grin, "Guess I'm not much better about the inclusive thing than some others of recent acquaintance. I have this sinking feeling Scott's going to put me back into switchboard drills though. Screwed up twice back there because of that."

"Eh. I should have been more careful." And remembered that she had problems with telepathic contact. There just hadn't seemed to be many options back on the island, all things considered. "I'm not looking forward to writing the mission report on this one, let me tell you. I suppose that is my job."

"That's what you get for being the fearless leader on this one. I'll write a supplemental report for what you missed when you decided to go swimming with terrorists." She walked along silently for another couple of steps then shot him a wry grin, "You think they're gonna be unhappy when they see what I did to their toy?"

Nathan's expression, in contrast, was almost somber. "Fuck them, if they are," he said, his tone almost conversational. "I don't know how the Chechens would have gotten their hands on that particular toy, and I'm not sure I want to know." He shrugged, helplessly. "I expected it to be Russian," he said with a sigh. "It would have made the most sense."

"Not the way the world works anymore. Now we fight the people that we were friends with ten years before and sell to our enemies." Lorna sighed, "Hell of a world." They paused on just before the 'birds ramp. "But we made sure that no one else lost lives and...that's enough for one day, right?"

---

Most of the occupants of the medical tent were the injured terrorists, plus a couple of the hostages who'd been slightly hurt when Saidullayev's people had first taken the island. Still dripping wet from the unexpected swim he'd taken when he and Saidullayev had been duking it out, Nathan moved around patients and medics, making steadily for the back of the tent, where he had picked up a familiar psi-imprint.

Although it was confused. Very confused. One of the medics moved out of the way, and Nathan stopped dead at the sight of Logan unconscious on the stretcher. He's as bad as I am. Maybe worse. His attention moved next to the other black leather-clad figure, who was thankfully upright... but not quite right, Nathan thought, frowning deeply.

"Rogue?"

It took a moment for the name to bring forth a response from the girl watching over Logan. She had just finished snarling at one of the medics who tried to tell her to give him space when Nate had walked up. Glaring at the gray haired man, she wondered if he was going to try to do the same. "That's my name, isn't it?" she said, her tone trying to cover the concern she was feeling for Logan.

"That is your name, yes." Nathan stayed where he was, watching her. "You... made contact with someone, didn't you?" The man on the stretcher, if he was guessing right. He didn't want to make telepathic contact with her, not with her mind in such a mess.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. What's it to you, carebear?" Marie crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him. She was just itching for a fight.

... oh, lord. "I can't wait to read the mission report on this one," Nathan muttered, giving the man on the stretcher a narrow-eyed look. "How much contact?" he asked Marie directly, not interested in the slightest in having a conversation with the Logan-in-her-head. "Are we going to have to make arrangements to take him back like this, or is he going to wake up?"

"It might be a while," she said, growing sober and glancing at the unconcious man lying prone on the stretcher. "She was completely out when it happened. Remember the Liberty Island report? It was about like that."

I should never have let the three of them tackle that cellblock alone. But what option had he had? Logan would heal, at least, and Marie... Nathan glanced sideways at her again as he moved up to beside the stretcher.

"We're going to need to transport him," he said to the closest medic, who looked somewhat taken aback by the large dripping wet man in black leather.

"But-"

"We've got medical gear aboard our plane, and we're fully equipped at... home," Nathan said with a faint curl of his lip that might have been a smile. "Just look after it, all right? We're going to be leaving within the hour."

Marie smirked, sensing that Nate wasn't pleased with the situation. "He'll live, don't worry. Won't look bad on your mission logs. And hey, you didn't sprain your brain this time, so that's gotta count for something."

He needed to talk to Kurt. Find out exactly what had happened. "Stay with him until we're ready to go," he said almost absently, turning away from the stretcher. Keeping the wounded together was the best idea.

A low growl emanated from Marie. It wasn't that she wouldn't have demanded to stay with him herself and would have protested if Nate told her to leave him, but being ordered to stay just rankled her. "I was already planning on it."

He looked down at her, his gray eyes cool and assessing. "Just making sure. Things are a little scrambled for you right now - I can see that from here. I'll come back, or send Kurt or Lorna, when we're ready to go."

"I'm fine. Don't get your panties in a twist," she scowled. "I don't need a goddamn babysitter."

One eyebrow went up eloquently, but Nathan's expression was more tolerant than anything else. "Don't hit on any of the nurses," he said, heading back in the direction he'd come. "They might find it a little confusing."

Reaching over to where Logan lay, Marie's hand fished around in his pocket until she pulled out a cigar. Biting of the end, she spat it in Nathan's direction. "Wouldn't dream of it," she said, the smirk returning.

---

Kurt hadn't said a word since they took off, sitting in the copilot's seat looking almost dazed as he stared out of the window next to him. He barely seemed aware of Nathan's presence in the other seat.

Nathan debated what to say to him. Kurt had held it together for long enough to get Remy back off the island, but that had seemed to be the last of his reserves. Which was a damned good thing on one front, because Nathan had been thus able to keep Langstrom from grilling him about the mention of Gambit. Lorna had backed up his version of Remy's involvement without missing a beat, although Nathan was glad he'd thought to say that Remy had come in with the teleporter. That way his presence could be plausibly written off as Saidullayev's ace in the hole that he hadn't mentioned to the rest of his team. You hope. And imagine, being glad that the bastard got away. He was sure he was going to find this extremely amusing in the morning.

"I imagine we'll beat Remy back to the East Coast," Nathan finally said. They were at cruising altitude; he could have switched the autopilot on, at this point. "Even with the head start he got."

The only answer he got was a vague nod, though Kurt didn't turn his head. It was progress of a sort, though - the last time Nathan had spoken, he hadn't even seemed to hear it.

Nathan shook his head a little, his eyes on the dark sky outside the canopy. "Did you let the medics look you over?" he asked, his voice soft but his tone making it very clear he expected an answer.

"Yes", came the flat response. "Nothing worse than a little bruising, they said."

But you are very much not okay. "Logan and Marie are going to be fine, you know."

"I thought that they would be, after what Logan did. I have heard of the results of it before."

But Kurt subsided back into that dazed silence, and Nathan's jaw tightened slightly. He should push farther, but he knew what he'd sensed from Kurt, and he didn't want to provoke some sort of eruption. Not at thirty thousand feet.

"Debriefing is going to be interesting," he said in a low voice.

Kurt had good hearing, and that got a twitch... but no other reaction.

---

He really ought to get up. Get out of the leathers, get showered, head out to the boathouse for some sleep since debriefing obviously wasn't happening now. But the bench was too nice, Nathan thought feebly, his head resting in his hands. He could stay right here and not think about the freakish dichotomy of a mission with the optimal result but and three-quarters of his team in various stages of physical or mental disrepair.

Usually after a mission the locker room was visited only briefly, a quick and necessary stop before a retreat to bed, the kitchen, or something else to soothe and relax jangled nerves. It wasn't often that Ororo arrived there after the team had returned to find someone still there, but it seemed that Nate was trying something new.

"Welcome back," she murmured, her voice full of relief at the sight of him. "You made it."

Nathan looked up at her, then mustered a crooked smile. "We made it. The hostages made it. San Francisco made it. All in all," he said, peeling off his gloves, "I suppose it was not nearly as bad a day as it could have been. I still would have preferred to bring my team back intact."

A brief expression of worry passed over Ororo's face, like a thundercloud over an otherwise serene sky. "I alerted Amelia that you were incoming... I have not heard anything from her, yet. What happened?"

"Not absolutely sure. I sent Logan, Marie, and Kurt into the cellblock to free the hostages. Something happened. Logan's comatose, Marie's talking like him, and Kurt is..." Nathan made a face. "I don't know. He's not really talking. Things got out of hand, I felt that much."

"...oh." Perhaps it would've been better if she hadn't asked. Ororo crossed the room to sit by Nathan on the bench. "I am sure we will find out what happened, in time." She tried to ignore the gnawing worry that had sprung up at the mention of Kurt's silence; she was unsurprised and yet still deeply worried.

"Did I mention that we faked Remy's death?" His back was stiff. He straightened, squaring his shoulders and trying not to wince. "And I met a Chechen me. Saidullayev was very well-trained." A faint smile flickered across his face. "Not quite as strong as me, in the end."

"He would have to be very strong indeed to best you," Ororo joked, though it seemed to fall flat. "I am very proud of you all, and grateful," she continued. "You have accomplished an amazing thing. California is doubly indebted to you now."

"'Ro..." He paused, then shook his head. "It was an American bomb. Whatever this was all about... I think it was more complicated than we realized, and that's saying a lot." He looked around at her, tiredness dominating his expression now. "Reminded me a lot of the old days," he said slowly. "Getting briefed by this Langstrom bastard... he reminded me of Ruiz, or some of the other directors..." He was rambling. Nathan closed his eyes, shaking his head again. "Needed doing," he said exhaustedly, "and I'm glad we got it done, but that's so not how I want to be spending my time anymore."

"I am sorry you had to do this at all," Ororo said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked exhausted, and she couldn't be sure he wouldn't slump over right there, leathers and all. "When I am able to go over the mission report I will take a look at the details... if there is something more to this, we have a duty to find out, or at least bring it to the attention of someone who will. But for now, your only duty is to rest. For as long as you need."

"I wish Moira was here..." It was almost inaudible, and as soon as it was said, Nathan took a deep breath, straightening a little further. "I'm all right," he said more briskly. "Shower and sleep. Hopefully the former will revive me enough to let me make it out to the boathouse."

"If it does not, I am sure there is a fledgling telekinetic or two who would be happy to practice their powers on your sleeping form. They could levitate you across the lawn as you snooze." She smiled, standing and then offering a hand to help him to his feet.

"... I find that a very frightening thought." He tottered a little, once he was upright. "Yes, I think I'm remembering tonight that I'm forty and recently lobotomized myself..." He patted her shoulder. "I'll be fine," he promised. "Do me a favor and go check on the others?"

"Of course," Ororo assured him, nodding. She looked up at him, as if judging whether he would be able to get home on his own. Apparently she decided he would, or at least that there were more pressing matters that she would have to attend to instead, so she gave his arm a squeeze. "I am glad you are back, and safe. Thank you, Nathan."

He levered himself up off the bench, giving her a somewhat half-hearted salute and a lopsided smile. "You're welcome. Lorna and I, at least, will be up for debriefing in the morning."

"Very well. We shall see... get some sleep, at least. I think after this mission I may enforce a team-wide rest period. The world can save itself for a week or two." Though she was smiling at him, her tone was more than a little serious.