Nathan and Jean, Monday evening
Jun. 5th, 2007 12:15 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsJean does her doctorly duty for a slightly skittish Nathan.
There was a whole lot of checking over that needed doing here in the infirmary tonight. Nathan didn't begrudge the fact that he was still waiting, but he wanted out of here, damn it, and while he could feel Moira at work, she didn't appear at the door to spring him.
I'll just have to look after myself, Nathan thought a bit wildly. It wasn't like he hadn't cleaned his own damned bullet wounds before, and look, there was a whole tray of medical supplies right there. He called that an act of providence.
It was a good thing that Jean had wrapped up her last patient as quickly as she had and made it into Nate's room before he got as far as putting that thought into action. Not because he couldn't do it -he was more than capable of cleaning his own wounds competently. It was just that if he did, he would sneak out of the medlab, and then she and Moira would have to take turns beating him for it. "Put the swab down, Nathan, and step away from the gauze."
He nearly jumped out of his skin; all he was 'hearing' was a roaring buzz, white noise caused by the psionic feedback and exhaustion. "It's just a flesh wound, stop looking at me like that," he growled at her restlessly - but did as he was told.
The jump didn't go by without notice, and Jean realized why Moira had said she ought to look in on Nate. "Well, then, it won't take me a moment to check it over and clean it, which will be much faster than you would have managed with only the one hand to work with."
"Fine. Whatever." Nathan paced back towards the examining table and sat down, almost bristling. "Alison said it was Monday?" he asked abruptly, while Jean collected her supplies.
Oh yes, her latest squirrel plan would be needed, although definitely not till she thought he wouldn't just annihilate them when he saw them. She went to work, manner very much the efficient doctor as she cleaned and examined the graze. "Yes, it is."
He gave a shaky sigh. "What a weekend." Gray eyes followed her movements with barely disguised anxiety. "Is everyone all right? Moira said, the bus run..."
"Everyone's been accounted for and is either home safe or on their way. The kids... are more than a little shaken. They will be all right but it may take a while for them to get there." When she figured out who she could punish for that, they would pay. Right now, though, it was more important to take care of everyone.
Nathan rested his head in his good hand, trying not to shake. His various aches and bruises and the bullet wound hurt, but the inside of his mind was like a ramshackle fortress, walls collapsing every time the buzzing roar grew a little louder. "Not because of anything we did... the ones in Vegas, I mean," he muttered disjointedly.
"Painkiller," Jean said, holding up a small syringe and waiting for Nathan's nod before giving him the injection. Hopefully the relief from the external, physical pain would help him get a handle on the internal, psychic pain, and the injection was both faster and more effective than pills would be. "And you did all you could, Nate."
His smile was twisted, jerky - there one moment and gone the next. "All I could. Funny how hollow..." He cut himself off, almost shook his head before he remembered that it was liable to fall off if he did. "I need to totter out to the boathouse, once you're done," he said in an approximation of his normal voice, watching Jean dress the wound on his arm. "Some distance will help."
"Yeah, you do. Sleep will help, and time. And if we could get, like, five months where nothing goes wrong, that'd be nice, too." The bandage safely on, she took brief advantage of the contact of her fingers on his arm to do the gentlest mental scan she could manage, and still ended up wincing slightly at the buzz in his brain.
Nathan drew himself up, squaring his shoulders and managing a thin smile at her wince. "And I promise," he said hoarsely, laying a hand over hers for a moment. "That doesn't improve after sleeping, I'll go see Charles. I have no desire to have my darling daughter leap gleefully down our link and leave me in a fetal ball on the floor. I suspect that would be traumatic for both of us."
"More than a little, yes." Jean sighed. "Go, sleep. I'll see what Amelia and I can do about getting Moira out of her quickly."
"You're too good to me." There was another ghost of a smile, shakier this time. "Thanks, Jean."
There was a whole lot of checking over that needed doing here in the infirmary tonight. Nathan didn't begrudge the fact that he was still waiting, but he wanted out of here, damn it, and while he could feel Moira at work, she didn't appear at the door to spring him.
I'll just have to look after myself, Nathan thought a bit wildly. It wasn't like he hadn't cleaned his own damned bullet wounds before, and look, there was a whole tray of medical supplies right there. He called that an act of providence.
It was a good thing that Jean had wrapped up her last patient as quickly as she had and made it into Nate's room before he got as far as putting that thought into action. Not because he couldn't do it -he was more than capable of cleaning his own wounds competently. It was just that if he did, he would sneak out of the medlab, and then she and Moira would have to take turns beating him for it. "Put the swab down, Nathan, and step away from the gauze."
He nearly jumped out of his skin; all he was 'hearing' was a roaring buzz, white noise caused by the psionic feedback and exhaustion. "It's just a flesh wound, stop looking at me like that," he growled at her restlessly - but did as he was told.
The jump didn't go by without notice, and Jean realized why Moira had said she ought to look in on Nate. "Well, then, it won't take me a moment to check it over and clean it, which will be much faster than you would have managed with only the one hand to work with."
"Fine. Whatever." Nathan paced back towards the examining table and sat down, almost bristling. "Alison said it was Monday?" he asked abruptly, while Jean collected her supplies.
Oh yes, her latest squirrel plan would be needed, although definitely not till she thought he wouldn't just annihilate them when he saw them. She went to work, manner very much the efficient doctor as she cleaned and examined the graze. "Yes, it is."
He gave a shaky sigh. "What a weekend." Gray eyes followed her movements with barely disguised anxiety. "Is everyone all right? Moira said, the bus run..."
"Everyone's been accounted for and is either home safe or on their way. The kids... are more than a little shaken. They will be all right but it may take a while for them to get there." When she figured out who she could punish for that, they would pay. Right now, though, it was more important to take care of everyone.
Nathan rested his head in his good hand, trying not to shake. His various aches and bruises and the bullet wound hurt, but the inside of his mind was like a ramshackle fortress, walls collapsing every time the buzzing roar grew a little louder. "Not because of anything we did... the ones in Vegas, I mean," he muttered disjointedly.
"Painkiller," Jean said, holding up a small syringe and waiting for Nathan's nod before giving him the injection. Hopefully the relief from the external, physical pain would help him get a handle on the internal, psychic pain, and the injection was both faster and more effective than pills would be. "And you did all you could, Nate."
His smile was twisted, jerky - there one moment and gone the next. "All I could. Funny how hollow..." He cut himself off, almost shook his head before he remembered that it was liable to fall off if he did. "I need to totter out to the boathouse, once you're done," he said in an approximation of his normal voice, watching Jean dress the wound on his arm. "Some distance will help."
"Yeah, you do. Sleep will help, and time. And if we could get, like, five months where nothing goes wrong, that'd be nice, too." The bandage safely on, she took brief advantage of the contact of her fingers on his arm to do the gentlest mental scan she could manage, and still ended up wincing slightly at the buzz in his brain.
Nathan drew himself up, squaring his shoulders and managing a thin smile at her wince. "And I promise," he said hoarsely, laying a hand over hers for a moment. "That doesn't improve after sleeping, I'll go see Charles. I have no desire to have my darling daughter leap gleefully down our link and leave me in a fetal ball on the floor. I suspect that would be traumatic for both of us."
"More than a little, yes." Jean sighed. "Go, sleep. I'll see what Amelia and I can do about getting Moira out of her quickly."
"You're too good to me." There was another ghost of a smile, shakier this time. "Thanks, Jean."
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