Ororo and Nathan | Wednesday evening

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Nathan's out on the deck contemplating things when Ororo drops in for a visit. She learns that something is bothering him, though the exact cause isn't immediately apparent. Tired as he is, however, it eventually comes out, and it looks like 'Ro has some mission reports to go over.

Rachel had finally, finally gone down for a nap. She was not at all happy with him, leaving her mostly with babysitters these last couple of days. He was probably lucky she hadn't throw something at his head. Nathan slouched in the deck chair, wondering just how badly Moira would kick his ass if she ever found out he was sitting out staring at the frozen lake. That is not how ye recover from pneumonia, ye daft man!

Ororo didn't have any imaginary Scottish women scolding her in her head; in fact, her head was remarkably clear. That was the benefit of taking time for a long, relaxing flight before heading back inside for a workout and the next day's class preparation. Skimming low over the lake, a figure on the deck of the lakehouse caught her eye. With a slight alteration of her course she was able to head that way herself, waving slightly at the man as she neared. "Good evening. I hope I am not interrupting anything."

Nathan offered her a brief smile that faded again almost immediately. "Just enjoying the quiet. Rachel screamed all afternoon. She's still not over the ear infection."

"I am sorry to hear that," Ororo replied sincerely. "It is so hard, when they are young. I hope she feels better soon."

"Me too." Nathan's gaze strayed back to the frozen lake. "It'll be nice to get out of here on Friday," he said after a moment, "especially to climb. I'm rather looking forward to it."
"Please tell me there will be at least a few pictures. I think it will be as good a trip for the students as it will be for you." There was a long pause as she moved to stand by his side, placing a light hand on his shoulder. "Is something the matter, Nathan?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "Tell me something," he finally said. "If you had to describe me in a word, what would it be?" Before she could respond, he gave her a faintly quizzical half-smile and a shrug of his shoulders. "Bear with me, I know it's an odd question. But am I the telekinetic? The languages teacher? The crazed workaholic?"

"Those are more than one word," she reminded him, though she seemed to be taking the question seriously enough. "I suppose I would say you are the... visionary," she said eventually, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. "The one who sees things for what they could be and then makes them happen."

A startled blink was his only response for a moment, and he looked back out at the lake. "... I wasn't actually fishing for compliments," he said, sounding a little bewildered, "but... thank you. That's... I don't know what to say to that." A pause. "I suppose I should be upfront about it and say that I was just hoping that your first response wasn't 'the mercenary'," he said with a somewhat wan smile.

Looking down at him, Ororo frowned a little. "That would be one of the last things from my mind. I know it is a part of you, Nathan, but that is not what you are..."

Nathan made a noise that might have been amusement if it hadn't sounded quite so grim. "That's all some people see, apparently. Never mind the NGO and the classes and the black leathers. Or the flying daughter. When push comes to shove, my whole life can get summed up by the seven years that I fought for money."

"Who said that?"

Nathan proceeded to do a very good impression of a man avoiding the question. "I suppose it's understandable. I made something of a study of this at one point, you know - it's the modern mindset that has no room for a soldier who isn't fighting for Queen and country. A few centuries ago I'd have been a freaking condottieri general. I mean, if I'd been Italian."

"Nathan..." Letting her hand slip from his shoulder, Ororo turned to face him, hoping that eye contact might keep him from slipping away from the issue again. "You did what you had to do. There is no shame in who you are. Who said that to you?"

Shockingly, the anger bubbled out, and part of him could only hope that Ororo realized that it wasn't directed at her. "You're right - you're absolutely right, you know. Even if I'd had the capacity to make choices like that back then-" If I hadn't been forced to kill people since I was fifteen fucking years old, if my life before that wasn't ninety percent blank and ten percent nightmare... "-practically speaking, I didn't have any options. Not with Mistra chasing me. I had to stay on the move, I had to stay on the edge... I had to use what I was to keep going, and none of you... none of you," he almost hissed, "will ever understand just how much I wanted to stop."

His jaw clenched, he looked up at her, and some horrible impulse made him keep going. "Do you know, Ororo, I tried to commit suicide four times in as many years, after I first left Mistra? GW knew about two of those times. He yanked a gun out of my hand the first time."

"I am glad he did," was all she could manage to say at first. It wasn't often that Nathan let his anger out, but she only hoped that this was what he needed to do. "It has ended, Nathan. That part of your life is behind you. And those who say otherwise are wrong. There is much, much more to you than that. You are a husband, a father, a teacher, a friend, a mentor. You have saved many lives, and I know you will only continue to do so as long as you are able. This is who you are now. What you have made of yourself.”

Why was he hissing at Ororo? Nathan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and then letting it out. Because you're sleep-deprived, still sick, and letting a stray insult getting to you far too much. "I thought I was over having to prove myself to people," he said, sounding tired instead of angry. "I really thought I was more secure than this. It should take more than someone shooting their mouth off to plunge me back in all this crap."

He wasn't going to give up the name, that much was clear. And it really wasn't her place to press. "It does not mean you are weak, to be bothered by this. If insults did not hurt, we likely would not use them." She sighed. "But I am sorry all the same. I am not trying to say I know how you feel, but if I were you, I would try to focus on the wonderful things I have made possible for so many people. It is truly something to be proud of."

Nathan sighed, rubbing at his temples for a moment. "It was all I knew," he said more quietly. "I thought it was the way things were supposed to be. Doing things that you hated because there were moments in between with the people you cared about..." Then her words finally properly penetrated, and he mustered up a faint smile. "Well, I don't do well at working on my own self-esteem, but you're right, I can be more productive. You'll have my report on the mission in the morning, by the way... I presumed to make some suggestions."

"Yes? I look forward to reading them." I really do, she thought, offering him a warm smile. "I hope you always presume. It is a great help to me."

Nathan's expression turned pensive, if not quite unhappy. "You know that I don't generally question yours and Scott's decisions, but I have to wonder if you didn't rush Garrison into the field."

Garrison. Well... that could be the answer to one question. "I assume the report will go into more detail about this? Would you like to talk more about it now?" she asked, hoping that he did, although by the sounds of it there wouldn't be any happy revelations made.
"I worry," Nathan said distractedly, making a vague gesture with one hand. "I know we've had loners and hardcases and several different types of headcases. Half the damned team's got some degree of PTSD at this point. We're not the most functional healthy unit in the world... but we are a unit. And along comes Inspector Kane, who's got several different types of training of the sort that we need. Who's an open-minded Canadian with the will to do good. Ideal candidate, right?"

"One would think..."

Nathan rubbed at one temple again. "I should have started giving orders," he muttered under his breath. "Didn't work, the usual consensus approach. We weren't on the same page." He sighed heavily. "And because I let us get into that surpassingly awkward position, Scott had to hold back at a distance... what the hell was I thinking, I know better than that." Something close to a growl escaped him. "What the fuck was I doing deferring to anyone on site last night, there's the better question..."

"It seems there is something to be learned for all of us, then," Ororo said, pursing her lips. Now she really wanted to read that report.

"Hell, I hope so. A Danger Room scenario, at the least-" Nathan paused, tilting his head, and then sighed. "She's awake," he said, rising, and indeed, the cries were just audible even out here on the desk. "I'll have to go run her around a bit, see if I can't wear her out."

"Would you like any help? I feel quite refreshed after my flight, and I am reasonably sure I can dodge any objects that might be flung at my head."

Nathan gave her an unutterably grateful look that suggested that she was the most wonderful woman in the world and he would forever afterwards be her most humble and devoted servant. "... yes."

"Very well. But if at any point you try to use me as a human shield," she cautioned, chuckling, "I will have you remind you that you are the one with telekinesis."