xp_logs | Nathan and Jean-Paul, Thursday night (Reply)

Nathan calls Jean-Paul from a SHIELD facility.

The room he'd been given in the facility was small and spartan, not unlike the one he'd had in the Mistra barracks in New Mexico, all those years ago. The similarity should have been unsettling, but Nathan was too numbed by the events of the day, by the whole situation, to care much. He closed the door behind him and moved like an automaton over to the duffel bag on the bed, pulling out his cell phone. The signal strength wasn't good, he saw at once.

Walking in a slow circle around the narrow confines of the room, he found it was best by the window. Sliding down to sit on the floor, he stared blankly at the phone for a long moment, not entirely sure who he wanted to call. It was too late, on Muir and in Tel Aviv. The mansion, then? Almost automatically, he scrolled down his list of saved numbers, hitting the call button as he reached the one listed for 'JP'.

The response was almost immediate, but that wasn't really surprising, given Jean-Paul's powers.

"Nathan? Where are you?"

"I'm not actually allowed to say." On a different day, there might have been a little humor in the comment. Nathan leaned back against the wall, looking upwards at the slice of night sky visible through the window at this angle. It was cloudy. No stars.

"Ah. Marvelous." It was interesting how much displeasure could be packed into one word. "Are you all right? The last I heard of you was that journal entry just before you left Muir." The annoyance had faded out as quickly as it had come, leaving room for concern.

"I'm fine." The words left a bad taste in his mouth, and he knew that poor signal or not, Jean-Paul could probably hear the lie. "Accomodations are very basic and the food is terrible, but beggars can't be choosers."

"Except I do not think that you are the one who went begging for this." A pause. "I'm sure whatever you've been roped into is outside of my experience and you will continue to be fine." '...but if you need me to show up at someplace that is not the place that you're not supposed to tell me about...?' The unspoken offer hung in the static of the line.

Nathan almost smiled. Almost. "If I need to be rescued from my own good intentions," he said, and it came out more hoarse-sounding than it should have, "I do have you on speed-dial. But I think I'm here for the duration." He swallowed past the tightness in his throat and went on, forcing a bit more strength into his voice. "You could say they have me by the good intentions."

"And if I show up anyway, I'll just be fired upon. I hate that." There was a faint thump on the other end of the line; probably Jean-Paul falling onto his couch. "Morgan is also off someplace that I'm not supposed to know about."

"Really." Dimly, Nathan wondered if she'd gone back to Mag Ealga, or whether she'd gotten caught up in someone else's business again. It wasn't as if she'd been particularly inactive during her time at the mansion. "Well. Try not to worry too much about her. I can vouch for the fact that she's got a very good survival instinct."

"Mmm. 'Tell the wind not to blow', I think you said? I'm sorry, Nathan, but now you two have gone and gotten me to give a damn about you, and you will just have to live with it. You brought it upon yourself."

The urge to smile came back. "Sorry to saddle you with the onerous responsibility," Nathan said, not quite gruffly. "Next you'll be blaming us for your gray hairs. I don't know why you-" He paused, tensing at the sound of footsteps in the hall outside. But they passed by without stopping, and Nathan let the air in his lungs out on a soft sigh. "Sorry. Thought they were going to catch me with the cell phone. I don't really feel like being grilled on who I'm talking to."

Jean-Paul laughed. "If they ask, let me talk to them. I'll give them the URL to my fan-ring. Those women have more information on me than Department H, I promise you. It will save them time, and perhaps break them if they stumble across the fiction section."

"Don't tempt me. Security types are always so officious." Nathan rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, wincing as muscles in his shoulder spasmed. "I have to do something in the morning I'm really not looking forward to," he said, his voice hoarse again.

"But you are going to, I take it, even if it rips the heart out of your chest?"

"The alternative is... not good." Nathan breathed past the tightness in his chest, pathetically grateful for the closed door. It had been hard, keeping the poker face while talking to Fury's specialists and seeing the kids today. "I miss my coma. I didn't have to make decisions like this when I was safely unconscious."

"Nate. Whatever you are doing, I trust that it is the best course, even if the best out of many horrible ones. You'll do what you have to."

Nathan was silent for a long moment, his eyes closed, aware of little beyond the act of breathing and the static crackling in his ears. "Do you want to go climbing when I get back?" he asked finally. "If the weather holds, the ice conditions in the Adirondacks should be just about right."

There was mischief in Jean-Paul's voice when he spoke. "Sounds like a date. And reason for you to come home in good condition." He sobered. "Should I let Moira know I heard from you and that you are...fine?"

Nathan thought about that. "I would have called her tonight," he finally said, slowly, "but it's late, over there... yeah. Please. I don't want to have to call her tomorrow, after."

"As soon as it's morning, then," he promised. "Though I do not promise I will not hang up on your daughter if she calls me the 'grumpy elf' again. Who taught her that, I wonder?"

"It's supposed to be 'Mr. Grumpy Elf'. I need to have a talk with her about her manners, I see." Nathan took a deep breath and then let it out. "I should try and sleep, I guess," he said, more quietly. "I don't really know when I'll be back. It depends on how things go."

"The important thing is that you come back, non? Bonne nuit, Nathan. Be safe."