xp_logs | Cain & Nathan - Tuesday night at Harry's

Down at Harry's, Cain and Nathan watch some hockey, put away a few beers, and generally reminisce like old farts do.

"Much quieter than when we were here for your birthday," Nathan said idly, picking a pretzel out of the bowl and examining it for the outline of the Virgin Mary or anything similarly exciting. Harry's was pretty quiet tonight, which he appreciated. And there was a hockey game on the television, which he also appreciated. "Not that it wasn't a good not-quite-party..."

Cain tilted his bottle of beer to his lips and kicked back in the booth, his feet up on a nearby table. "Well, you don't usually hear people making a big deal out of the big six-eight," he said as he peered at the television through the green glass of the bottle. "Although I still get a good chuckle about all the mail about retirement funds and 'planning for the future'."

"Yeah, not really a priority for you right this second, I imagine. Mind you, there are days when early retirement sounds like the best thing since sliced bread," Nathan said wryly, lifting his own glass and taking a sip before his eyes flickered back to the television in time to see the Rangers score a goal. "Huh. Well, that was a giveaway..."

"There was this game that Harry and I went to, back in..." Cain thought, then leaned around the table. "Harry!" he barked. "That one time with that one girl in the place with the geese! How old were we?" He waited for the answer, then turned back to Nathan. "So back in fifty-eight, Harry and I hitch up to Boston to catch the Bruins play Montreal. The Canucks beat them earlier in the season, but this time Boston's got Willie O'Ree. First black guy in pro hockey, O'Ree. Blind in one eye, even. But the guy was phenomenal. And we go up there - aw, come on!" he stopped to shout at the screen, then took another long drink.

"So we're up in Boston, and excited as hell, right? And so the Bruins come out and we're right on center ice, three rows back. Great game, and then O'Ree skates by, and this guy in front of us..." Cain took a deep breath and shook his head. "Guy yells at him 'why ain't you out pickin' cotton?' like it was nothing. I mean, me and Harry, we were just stunned. I ain't never been the kind to march in parades like Chuck did, but even then, I knew wrong was wrong, y'know?" He shook his head and chuckled. "But Willie O'Ree, he goes on to play a career game. Two goals, two assists. And every time, he'd skate right by and give that guy a little nod. Class act, that guy."

Nathan was smiling by the time Cain had finished his story. "Funny how many pioneers are like that, isn't it? The people who make a go of what no one else has done before... they're the people who put all the bullshit aside and just do it." Not just hockey players, either.

Cain just shrugged and finished his beer. "I don't know nothin' about pioneers. But I know decent folks when I see 'em. And you're right, it's about putting the bullshit aside. Just playin' hockey, or doin' your job the way you know how, or protectin' what's yours. Time was, that's what being a man was about. Just somethin' that simple." He turned the bottle around in his large fingers, absently rubbing the label into shreds with one hammerlike thumb. "World's a lot more complicated, forty years on," he mused.

"You know, I was about to say 'tell me about it', but I think my life was pretty complicated already when I was two," Nathan said with more mirth than might have been expected, given the reference. Maybe the beer was helping him relax. "The rest of it's true, still. We've both got a job - a couple of jobs, that require setting the bullshit aside to do properly."

Cain thought about that, then picked up a fresh bottle of beer as Harry came by to pick up the empties. He took a quick drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and chuckled. "Funny thing. Back in the war, I made my sergeant stripes through dumb luck. Squad leader stepped on a box mine, and there I was suddenly in charge. Before that, though, I spent just about as much time fightin' with the MPs as I did with the VC. Some folks might even have called me a right contrary son of a bitch." He stopped and raised an eyebrow, almost daring Nathan to contradict him, then continued with a wry grin. "But when we were in the thick of it, all that got put aside. Because you're right, when the job's there to do - a man does it. Ain't about havin' any kind of higher belief, or a cause, or any of that."

He took a long drink, then jerked a thumb towards the window that faced west, towards the mansion in the distance. "How many of 'em you think get it?" Cain asked. "I swear, Nate, some of 'em ain't but kids... but some of 'em really do get it."

"I'd say a lot of them do. The ones that don't are on their way to getting it - mostly," Nathan amended, and took a particularly long swig of his beer. "It's experience as much as anything else, you know. And there are all these lovely mines they can step on, if they're not careful." He tried not to grimace, thinking of Angelo. "You know, though," he persisted, "I don't think it's a bad thing, if they struggle with it. Shows they're thinking. And I know I sure as hell don't want to be fighting alongside any fanatics."

Cain snorted. "Just for one, eh?"

"Until he starts sending us off to overthrow governments, I'm going to reserve judgement," Nathan said, but good-humoredly. "But you know what I mean. The people sending you off to do whatever are one thing... the people in the thick of it with you are another."

"I ain't in this for Chuck," Cain agreed. "It's about making sure my people come home. Simple as that." He pondered that, then drained the rest of his beer. "Here's to some things stayin' simple."

Nathan shifted slightly in his hair, the much fainter but still present ache in his back reminding him it would be a while yet before he could get back to where life was simpler. "Moira took her Highness back to Muir with her yesterday," he said absently. "The boathouse is too quiet. Half-tempted to see if Scott can find something for me to do to kill some time..."

"Quiet ain't always good," Cain agreed. "'specially this time of year. Three years gone now. Hard to believe, ain't it?"

"You know you're getting old when time starts to fly," Nathan said. "But yeah, generally not keen on March still. I'm thinking of maybe packing up and heading to Tel Aviv for a week or so... it's not as if there isn't work to do over there, and maybe if we put our heads together we can manage not to brood so much." He picked out another, unhelpfully non-anthropomorphic preztel. "Hey, though," he said, his tone lightening, "we should have three of our DDR projects on the go by the end of the month. Sri Lanka, Dagestan, and Uganda. About thirty-five kids in the initial intake, between the three of them." There was nothing quite like giving the memory of Mistra a kick in the ass to brighten March.

Cain nodded. "I gotta go down and finish that damn aqueduct by the south drainage creek. Rough winter damn near took the whole thing out, and it's gonna be hell for erosion come spring. Might as well put Gibney to work getting his hands dirty. Collins too, I figure. If the girl feels like playing amateur landscaper, she can learn what the tough work's like." He smiled and dug a handful of pretzels from the bowl, shoving them into his mouth and chewing noisily. "Keep 'em busy and they can't cause trouble, right?"

"You put them to work tending the grounds, I shove paper in front of their noses," Nathan said in amusement, thinking of his expanded staff. "And I bet we both get complaints about boredom."

"Best cure for boredom's more work," Cain drawled laconically. "But hell, way things are going these days, maybe boredom? It ain't so bad in comparison."

"Someday we're going to get a stretch of three uneventful months in a row, and we're all going to drop dead of heart attacks in shock. Although," Nathan said, raising a finger, "the three uneventful months might just be worth it."

"Now that," Cain agreed as he tipped his bottle, "I'll drink to."