xp_logs | Nathan and Ororo, Thursday morning

Nathan returns from globetrotting and checks in with Ororo to reflect on how there are some experiences friends really shouldn't have to share.

Very good, Kyle, but please remember that traditionally scholars refer to the character as 'the Wife of Bath' and not 'that skanky lady who married five dudes and probably slept with a bunch more'... Ororo recapped her pen; there really wasn't anything else to say on this particular essay, though she would be sure to remember the choicest bits to repeat at the next staff meeting, as was tradition.

There was a knock on the door, despite the fact that it was open (given that this was Ororo's office hours). The person standing in the doorway was not, however, a student. Nathan raised an eyebrow at her. "Ah. The red pen," he said. "Our dear friend."

"As always, put to good use. This time on senior essays on Canterbury Tales." Ororo's eyes flicked over Nathan's face; he looked as tired as she still felt. "Was it a late night, or early morning?"

"I don't know, what time is it?" Nathan glanced down at his watch, then tapped it lightly, his nose wrinkling. "Haven't reset my watch since Khartoum. I've really got to start paying more attention to that little detail. It is Wednesday, right?" Had to be Wednesday. Given that he'd been on Muir over the weekend, and then in Sudan for two days...

"Yes, Wednesday. Will be for quite a few more hours, actually. And I think I know now what to get you for your birthday."

"A watch that tells me what time it is when I've been on three continents in ten days?" Nathan came in, flopping down in the chair opposite her desk. His gaze, though slightly bleary, was still sharp. "So I caught up. Got caught up. Mind you, I wouldn't have known there was anything I needed to catch up on in the first place without Terry emailing me - which I saw on Muir, by the way, so that was before I saw the other stuff, and-" He paused, mouth half-open. "I forget what I was going to say. Oh! Sucks," he proclaimed, focusing again on her. "Damned forces of nature. Damn us who stand up in front of them and say 'Go the other way!', too."

Disjointed though it was, it was also a sentiment Ororo shared, and she gave a knowing nod as she neatly arranged the pile of papers on her desk. "We have started doing it all too frequently, I think," she murmured. "Though we are left with little alternative, most of the time."

Nathan leaned forward, picked a paperclip up off her desk, and flicked it at her. "Stop doing that," he said, very precisely. "Let me guess, you've already expressed to someone that you were glad that if you had to lose your powers, you lost them this way. You're generally a fair bit quicker than I am, and it only took me a couple of days..." The look in the gray eyes gazing so challengingly at her was odd and unreadable, but still somehow affectionate.

"I do not see what is wrong with the sentiment," she replied, just as quietly and seriously as before. She looked down at the paperclip, which had landed near the edge of her desk after bouncing off her shoulder. "Aren't we supposed to find a positive spin to put on the negative?"

"Yes. Eventually. But the stiff upper lip only goes so far." Nathan leaned back in his chair again, his expression gone reflective. "I can remember being told to suck it up, you know. 'Deal with it, Nathan, you're complaining too much, we don't want to hear it.' I don't see what's so wrong with letting out the frustration." Or the other things. Although at least the frustration was more socially acceptable. "Especially when what's happened changes the whole way you experience the world."

"Yes, but." How to explain this in a way that made sense? Especially when she wasn't sure she understood it herself. "I have spent nearly half my life reining in my emotions, for fear of causing a disaster or changing patterns that should not have been changed. Just because I no longer have that ability does not mean I can let loose so easily." Glancing up, Ororo raised her eyebrows at Nate. "Old habits die hard."

What she got in response could only be termed a smirk. "Oh, I bet you I can get you to let go of the self-control. At least briefly. I've done it before, remember? My jaw does." Despite the smirk, his eyes were still warm.

"You are a masochist," she said, pointing an accusatory finger across the desk at him. "And I do not want to punch anybody, no matter how frustrated I might be." It is bad enough people have to see me as powerless. If I were to complain, they would have that much more reason to doubt me.

"Yes, you've always been behind the curve when it comes to the use of therapeutic violence." Nathan yawned, then rubbed at his jaw. "That said... there are other ways. And your powers, by the way, may not be as gone as you think." He waved a hand. "Active control, yes. But keep an eye out for sensitivities sneaking up on you... they may come back first. That's Moira talking, by the way, not me. She'll probably want to talk to you the next time she's home. I called her when I got home and she gave me an earful. Not specifically about you!" The earful had been more about the fact that he'd stupidly mentioned finding a new bullet hole in his duffle bag. He really should not be allowed to talk to his wife when he was jetlagged.

Ororo considered pointing out that she had been the one to engineer Boxing Night but refrained; after all, the violence had been more for other people's sake, hadn't it? "I will be happy to meet with her when she returns. Though I think if I did not send you to bed right now she may have Words with me. And I do not want Words."

"If I go to bed now my schedule'll be more screwed up than it is," was Nathan's response to that. He pursed his lips, regarding her thoughtfully. "Did I ever tell you about my experiment with Marie, while my powers were gone? She could absorb them. Even though I couldn't read a thought or lift a cup of coffee, all she had to do was touch me and there they were." He paused, looking oddly embarassed. "They're still there, is what I'm trying to say. What you can do is still written in your genes. You haven't lost your powers. They've just... gone quiet for a while."

"It is hard to remember that, when everything feels so... dull." It didn't just feel dull, it felt dead, and more than once Ororo had found herself feeling disoriented or worse, near panic at the lack of familiar sensations and signals. It was some small comfort that if she did end up panicking, at least no one else was in danger now. She smiled humorlessly at him. "But I will try to. Though I may need some reminding from time to time."

"You helped me remember that I wasn't useless, or less than what I had been, just because I didn't have my powers," Nathan said, almost gently. "I can't say as though I was ever hoping that the shoe would be on the other foot..."

"But if it is, at least you have walked in it yourself." Ororo's smile grew warmer as she picked up the paperclip and flicked it back at Nate. "I promise not to ask you to hold my hand too much. I know I have plenty of people supporting me. But... I am glad you are among them."

A matching smile tugged at Nathan's lips. "I don't hold hands. I have my own, special methods." He paused for a beat. "Very 'special'."

"Goddess help me if I find out what those are. With my luck, they will involve memorizing ancient Askani meditations and reciting them backwards while small children throw lunchmeat at me."