xp_logs | Angelo and Nathan, Tuesday morning

Angelo takes a shift with his "stomach flu"-beridden mentor.

"I like my couch," Nathan muttered. "Much better than the bed." He was curled up on said couch, with just about everything someone recuperating would need within arm's reach - flat gingerale, plastic-bag-lined wastebasket, and the TV remote. The second item had been particularly useful several times already this morning.

Angelo glanced over at him patiently from his station in the armchair. "That better not be because you can float files over from here, or I will rat you out."

"No. Just... not as quiet down here." He seemed to be harping on that issue of quiet. Needed to watch that, or he was going to start giving things away. "Closer to the action."

That got a long look, then a grudging nod. "Okay, you can be closer to the action. Maybe we'll even let you handle a couple of phone calls."

"Uh, no. Let's not. Don't want to have to pause to throw up in the middle of a phone call if the need hits me. Even if that would be kind of appropriate. With some phone calls." Nathan offered Angelo what could only be termed a 'don't kill me?' smile, if one that was weaker than usual.

"...note to self. If Nate gets to do any phone calls, it's only with people who'd understand that." Humour was good. Even if he would definitely not be giving Nate some calls in case he did it on purpose.

The smile twitched a little, then faded again as Nathan stared at the television. "Nothing really exciting on the news," he said. He really was feeling very spacey. It was the dizziness, he thought. "You have to wonder about all the things that happened and never make it to the news..."

"A hell of a lot", Angelo said more soberly, watching him again. As if he'd really taken his eyes off the older man when they'd both been in the room. "Can't report everythin', even if they get to hear about it."

"We're sort of proof of that, aren't we? All the stuff we get up to when we head out in that jet... the funny thing is, it's really not much fun at all to have that many secrets, is it?" Nathan's tone was idle, as if this was just one more of those endless philosophical conversations he and Angelo tended to have.

"No fun at all", Angelo agreed. "Not when you can't tell the people that matter... but that's why we've got a team, right? So most of the secrets, at least you get to share them with someone?"

Gray eyes slid sideways and focused on Angelo for a moment, as if weighing his words for their meaning. "Right. Team. Rah-rah." There was no sarcasm in Nathan's voice, just tiredness. I wonder if I can fake another bout of vomiting and get out of this conversation.

"Other times", Angelo continued, his voice dropping a little, "there's stuff you can't tell anyone. One reason or another, even when things get bad."

Nathan reached for the glass of flat gingerale and brought it to his lips, sipping at it. "We all have our secrets," he said gruffly. "Human nature."

"I know things are gettin' bad for you, Nate." That went with a sideways glance. "That picture in the file, the drinkin'... it was a kid, wasn't it?"

Nathan took another sip of his gingerale. "There are always kids," he said, his voice flat now. He wasn't looking at Angelo - wasn't looking at much of anything. The thousand yard stare was back, and directed at somewhere on the south wall of the boathouse.

"Before you went away, you could look at pictures of kids in our projects without lookin' like you were goin' to faint. Now..." Angelo trailed off. "I can keep secrets too, you know."

"I know you can." Nathan still sounded distant. "But sometimes it's not about trust."

"Then what is it?" He was pushing, he knew, maybe too hard. But even anger would be better than that lack of anything. "You can't talk about it? Or you don't want to? Let me help."

"'Let me help'." Nathan finally looked at him. "I would," he said. "But there's nothing to be done. Quite literally nothing." He looked away, an odd, twisted smile struggling to take shape on his lips. "It's all on me," he said, almost inaudibly. And he wasn't going to have to fake a bout of vomiting if this went on much longer. His hands were trembling slightly, and he tightened his grip on the glass.

"It doesn't have to be!" Angelo protested. "Nate, after all this time, don't you know I'd take anythin' on for you?"

"I know. But this is too much. There are things..." Nathan paused, swallowed. "There are things you shouldn't let inside your head if you don't have to."

"Then let's say I have to", was the stubborn response. "If it's that or sit here an' watch you struggle with whatever's got into your head an' do nothin', I'll take the first choice."

"And I'm not going to give you the choice. Because you don't have to take this on," Nathan said heavily, "and I don't want sympathy. I want..." He didn't know what he wanted. To rewind back to New Year's Day and... give Fury the same goddamned answer, Dayspring, who are you kidding?

Angelo was looking at him, clearly expecting him to finish the sentence. Nathan swallowed and did. "I don't want to see any more dead-eyed children. Just for a little while."

...that would be enough of an answer for now, Angelo decided abruptly. No more fighting over it, not right now. He got up with a simple, "Then I'll make it so you don't", and stepped to Nathan's side to press a kiss to his forehead.

A very soft laugh escaped Nathan, if you could call it a laugh when it was full of that much hurt. He shifted slightly on the couch, closing his eyes. Recuperate from the minor act of stupidity first, he told himself. Deal with the bigger sin later.