xp_logs | Nathan and Angelo, Friday afternoon

After the Blackbird arrives back from Romania, Angelo finds Nathan in the infirmary.

Nathan had protested when Amelia had insisted on giving him a once-over while Charles and Jean put their heads together (literally) to begin evaluating Jean-Paul's condition. He'd told her that Jean had already checked him out the previous night and done the necessary first-aid, but she'd just muttered something about "better safe than sorry" and not taken no for an answer. In the end he'd decided to humor her. After all, she could dish out more painkillers, and he needed those, rather badly.

She'd been just as unhappy with the cut on his arm as Jean had been, and had vanished to gather some more supplies. Nathan didn't mind. The room was nice and quiet, if nothing else. He wasn't sure when he'd decided to lie down on the exam table, but it felt better to be horizontal. And it wouldn't hurt to rest his eyes for a minute. His head still hurt so goddamned much.

There was a very quiet click at the door, then footsteps heading towards the chair in the corner. Angelo didn't know if Nathan was awake or not, but he wasn't going to risk waking him now. There'd be time enough for talk later... now it was just enough to see he was alive and mostly unharmed.

Nathan twitched - or shuddered, to be more precise, at the sudden pressure of another mind in the room. His eyes opened, and he pushed himself back up slowly to a sitting position, ignoring the way the room spun. "I'm fine," he told Angelo hoarsely, before his unfocused gaze had even found the younger man in the room. "Shields are only in about a hundred pieces now, rather than a thousand."

"Okay", the younger man said calmly. "That's progress, but you're not fine. You're just gonna be. Should I go away?" He wouldn't usually offer, but if the shields were bad enough Nathan couldn't deal with it...

"No, don't," Nathan said restlessly, suddenly not liking the idea of the quiet at all. "I was alone all week."

"Didn't really want to anyway", Angelo admitted. "Just checkin' it wouldn't be better. Amelia'll have to teleport me out if she wants me gone."

Nathan's eyes flickered towards the direction of the Professor and Jean's unmistakable mental imprints. In the same vicinity was Jean-Paul, and he swallowed painfully, careful to keep his mental distance. He couldn't blunder in there and disrupt them. You've done enough damage. "Could you get me some water?" he asked, his voice rough. "I meant to ask Amelia."

"Yeah, 'course." He got up and went to the sink, reaching for a jug as he glanced over his shoulder. "Also, no jokes this time. I'll see to it."

"What?" Nathan asked blankly after a moment, the comment flying right over his head. There was a part of him that just couldn't process the concept of 'jokes' in relation to this situation.

"Brain-breaking", Angelo said with a slight shrug. "The usual thing. I mean, maybe they wouldn't, this time's different, but... if anyone doesn't get it, I won't let them."

"Oh." It came out sounding rather hollow. After all, his brain wasn't the one that had been broken. It had just been... dinged around the edges a little.

Not like Jean-Paul.

"It's gonna be okay", was the quiet response. "For both of you."

Nathan shuddered again, gray eyes blank as the images from the safehouse rose up behind them, ghastly even in recall. Jean-Paul's mind churned fitfully on the edges of his perception, and even from here, without reaching out, he could still feel how badly everything was wrong. How not okay it really was.

"Nate", Angelo said sharply, missing nothing of the visible part of this. "It will be okay. He's in the best place for the help he needs an' you know it."

The noise Nathan made was barely audible, and wouldn't really have been a laugh even if it had been louder. "I suppose that's a consolation."

"Only one I can think of. That an' we're gonna take these bastards down whatever happens."

"Right." It was a pro forma comment, no real emotion behind it. Nathan took the glass from Angelo and sipped at it, trying to ignore the unsteadiness of his hands.

"You want a straw?"

"I'm fine."

Amelia appeared at the door and arched an eyebrow at Angelo.

"I'm not leavin'", he said instantly and stubbornly. "Nate says it's not hurtin' him."

"Well, sit over there and out of the way," was the brusque reply.

Nathan almost smiled. Almost. If he needed any reassurance that he was indeed home and this was real - well, one's mind couldn't really fabricate a bedside manner as bad as Amelia's. The faint almost-smile turned into a wince as she started to re-clean the knife wound with brisk efficiency. It actually hurt worse than when Jean had done it.

Angelo had got obediently out of the way for now - there was only so far he was prepared to stand up to Amelia without good reason so he went quietly back to his corner. He was watching her work on the knife wound closely, though.