Mnemovore: Nathan and Jake - Phone call

[x-courier.livejournal.com]

Nathan calls Jake to break the news. Jake returns the favor by being an ass.



Nathan eased himself into the chair, staring hard at the telephone. He'd been fully prepared to camp out in the infirmary for the rest of the day, but Amelia had pointed out to him, not unkindly, that he hadn't showered in "longer than is customary, Nathan", and suggested that he might feel better if he did. He'd managed to repress the ghastly laughter at the concept of feeling better. But once he'd gotten out into the fresh air, it had occurred to him that he hadn't heard anyone say anything about calling Jake. And even if someone had, it hadn't been the someone who was responsible for the whole thing. Which was why he was sitting here staring at the phone.

If he'd been in the mood to make jokes, he would have considered this a very tiny portion of penance. It took a few minutes to find the right number, but once he did, he dialed without any further ado.

Jake stared at his phone for a moment, torn; the number on his caller ID had a Xavier's prefix, but wasn't one he recognized. Which meant it was probably News of some sort. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know. It was tempting to let it go to voicemail and see who was calling, and why...except that he didn't think he could wait that long.

Dammit.

He tried to keep his voice bland as he answered, as if he hadn't been checking his phone every few minutes for the last few days. "Yeah?"

"Gavin." Nathan's voice was gravelly, somehow managing to convey the stress and exhaustion of the last week even in its neutral tone.

Jake started to pace. "Nathan?" He winced at the hopeful tone in his voice--and when exactly had Cable become Nathan, anyway?

Nathan swallowed, hearing the hopeful note. This was going to be harder than he'd thought. "He's alive. But he's not in good shape."

Jake paused, then resumed his pacing. "Define 'not in good shape.'" 'Not in good shape' could mean anything at Xavier's; Cable himself was proof of that.

"Taygetos took him instead of me." Nathan said roughly. There was no point in anything but the plain and unadorned truth. Why would he give Jake anything less? To spare himself? "One of their telepaths tore apart his mind. I'm not sure why. Probably to turn him into a weapon to use - they would have expected a rescue mission."

Jake actually laughed at that, a short, sharp bark that was devoid of any real humor. "Great," he said sarcastically, his need for information warring with his desire to run away. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "How bad is it?"

Nathan realized, all at once, that truth went only so far, and he was not telling Jake Gavin about what they'd found in the safehouse. Bad enough Jean-Paul was going to have to wake up to that. There was no way he was going to contribute to spreading the information around and making it worse.

"They fucked with his memories, turned on his pain center for four plus days, and pushed him into a psychotic break," he said, instead. "Jean and Charles are doing what they can. He's not really...responsive, yet."

Jake sat down heavily, tipping his head back to rest it against the couch cushions, at a momentary loss for words. He didn't want to know any more--he didn't need to know any more; he knew enough of what telepaths could do to grasp exactly how fucked up things could be. He fought back the urge to laugh incredulously, but only barely. "Aren't you the one who lectured me about how it would be a Very Bad Thing if I let my job endanger people at the school?"

His head was still in bad enough shape that for a moment, Jake's words didn't even process. Then it did, and Nathan swallowed, feeling like he was choking down razor blades. There were a number of things he could have said. Differences he could have pointed out between Jake merrily couriering for Gideon, without any thought as to the consequences, and him trying to involve his friend in something worthwhile, something that would...

... get him kidnapped and mind-raped for the crime of being your friend. Blinking rapidly, Nathan forced himself to take a breath, ignoring the way it caught in his chest, and the fact that it had almost certainly been audible over the phone. "Not really the point right now." It came out tightly, but evenly, at least.

There was a moment's pause on the other end of the line. "Sure," Jake said finally. His eyes roamed over his apartment restlessly--searching for escape routes, he realized. He forced himself to concentrate, to try to figure out what to say next. "Um. So..."

"I don't know when he'll be ready for visitors." Given that he's sort of catatonic right now. Nathan bit back the sound that wouldn't have been a laugh. "But it might help him. Once Charles and Jean finish what they have to do. For you to be here, I mean."

"Right." Jake sounded somewhat dubious, although it was hard to tell whether he doubted his ability to help or the notion that he should be there at all. He rubbed a hand across his mouth. "I'll...When?"

"I'll let you know." Nathan's voice was starting to sound raw around the edges as he continued. "It might be... another day, I don't know. I'll ask Charles."

"Okay. Just..." He trailed off then before he said something stupid, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "Just tell me when."

"Right." There didn't seem to be much more to say, and Nathan stared blankly at the table for a moment before he cleared his throat. "I should go."

"Yeah." Jake was back on his feet, pacing. "Is there anyone left to kill?" he asked abruptly.

Nathan nearly dropped the phone. It took him a moment to fight back the sudden wave of nausea and dizziness - God, I need either sleep or drugs, now. "Revenge isn't going to do Jean-Paul any good," he said finally, his voice unsteady and odd-sounding, even to his own ears. "That shouldn't be your priority."

I wasn't asking for him, Jake thought but didn't say. "Just keep me posted," he replied instead.

"We will." He hated himself for the 'we'. But he didn't think he had too many of these conversations in him, at least not right now. And he didn't even want to deal with the implication of Jake's question.

Jake wondered whether Wanda would kick his ass if he went and played basketball for another few hours, until he'd fought down the urge to step on a train and disappear. "I guess...that's all."

Sometimes, Nathan thought dimly, Jake Gavin was just strange. "Yeah, well," he said hoarsely. "Figured I should call you."

"Yeah. Um." He scratched the back of his head. "Thanks." It was more of a rote answer than a heartfelt one. "I guess I'll talk to you later. If--" He caught himself. "When I should come."

Nathan twitched at the correction, but he bit back the instinctive response. "I'm hanging up the phone now, Gavin," he said instead, roughly. "I'll talk to you later."

"Sure," Jake said, but he found himself talking to a dead phone. He dropped it on the coffee table before he could throw it across the room.