xp_logs | Nathan and Jean-Paul, backdated to Tuesday

Jean-Paul stops in at the boathouse to check in on Nathan.

Juliette was the only one in the office this afternoon, and had made it quite clear to him that there was nothing that particularly required his attention, with an expression that suggested she was prepared to make a fight of it if he objected. Contrary to his occasional quips on the subject, Nathan was fully aware of the fact that doing battle with his administrative assistant would be a chancy proposition.

Besides. He was tired, and not focusing all that well still. So he'd gone back into the living room and stretched out on the couch. Staring up at the ceiling seemed to be quite a congenial way to pass a couple of hours.

That had been the plan, anyway. He'd only just settled in when Jean-Paul rang the bell to the guest entrance, a bundle of concern and "I'm not going away" thoughts prepared to camp out by the door if need be.

Nathan raised his head, considered the situation, and then waved at the door. The lock clicked and it swung open. He might not be feeling whole-heartedly social at the moment, but that didn't mean he was going to let Jean-Paul stand out in the cold.

Jean-Paul slipped in, hands in the pockets of his dark jacket, more to keep himself from figiting than because of the weather. He honed in on Nate immediately. "How are you doing?" While Nate still looked terrible, "terrible" was a dramatic improvement over his appearance at the airport.

"The better class of painkillers are wonderful things," Nathan said, his voice gruff. He made no move to get off the couch, or indeed, sit up. Jean-Paul knew where the chairs were. "I saw Pete." His eyes strayed back to the ceiling. "Alive is good," he said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself of that.

"It is something that can be worked with, anyway. A starting point." Jean-Paul took a seat on the arm of the couch by Nate's feet. "Any word on when he will be released from Medlab?"

"Not sure. It's going to take him a while to recover." Nathan sighed, shifting slightly on the couch (and covering the wince). "I do know about back injuries."

"But they think there is a chance he will recover the use of his legs?" That would be the most good news to come out of this mess since finding out that the others were alive. The wince distracted him from that train of thought. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

Nathan shrugged. "Still have a couple of hours before I can take anything else," he said, still not looking at Jean-Paul. "I'm fine. Compared to some of the injuries I've had in my career, a few flesh wounds are nothing."

"Nate, we both know damn well that you are not 'fine'. I'm satisfied that you're not dying, which is why I am sitting on this end of the couch instead of by your head doing a vulture impression."

"You and Jean need to form a 'calling me a damned liar' club. She's stuck a note on my file so that I have to see Charles before I can be cleared for duty again."

"Tell better lies and I will stop calling you on it. Or tell me to piss off. Not that it has much chance of working, but it's better than 'fine'." Jean-Paul smiled slightly. "But I will not go to Jean. I'm already closing ranks with one doctor to see that you are miserable and cared for."

"Yeah..." Nathan was silent for a long moment. "She's not all that happy with me. The other red-headed doctor, I mean. Not that Jean's thrilled with me either. And I think Amelia gave me an evil look on my way out, but that might just be her normal expression, I'm not sure."

"You dropped off the face of the Earth for a week or so and resurfaced looking like something the dog mauled. I would not be happy with you either. She'll forgive you eventually, though. It is hard to stay mad at that face."

Nathan swallowed, raising a slightly unsteady hand and scratched at the edge of the bandage on his forehead. "Everyone's very forgiving around here," he noted somewhat vaguely. "For all kinds of things. I wonder sometimes how serious we are about it, or whether it's just... the thing you do. An excess of compassion, maybe."

"I cannot speak for anyone but myself, but trust that I am very good at holding a grudge. Maybe the rest know that it doesn't do much good. Forgiving is not forgetting, but sometime holding it back takes more energy than you're willing to give." Jean-Paul shifted his weight a bit, shrugging off the jacket as he did.

"My brain's wandering," Nathan said. "These philosophical discussions work very well as white noise."

"Oh, yes? I brought cards, but if you'd rather talk..." Jean-Paul sobered a bit. "Just...whatever you need, all right?"

"I really am going to be all right, you know," Nathan said, thinking that Jean-Paul sounded like he could use the reassurance. It sounded unconvincing to his own ears. "It's not like I've never had an operation go wrong before."

"I can't pretend to know what happened, but I was paying attention when you called. Whatever you went out to meet was eating you before you dropped out of contact. I doubt that whatever went wrong made things any better." Jean-Paul had dropped his gaze and his tone was quiet. "I'm not going to ask questions yet. Maybe you will even be all right. But put up with me until then?"

Nathan considered that. "Well, I could dump you in the lake," he said, "but I think that would be overkill. Also counterintuitive." He waved a hand limply. "I don't think I have the focus for cards, though."