Nathan and Wanda, Wanda and Jake - Tuesday night (backdated)

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Wanda stops by the mansion to see how Nathan's doing. She provokes him in order to get him to talk to her, and in doing so finds out one of the reasons why he's beating himself up.



Considering the state that Nathan was probably in and the state that Jean-Paul was in, announcing one's self as the telepath came out of the quarantine area was probably a very good idea. The days of reflexive twitchyness were mostly of the past but, well. When the past kept coming back to haunt you, Wanda had no problem playing it a little bit safe.

"Nathan?" she called out to him, pushing herself off of the wall that she'd been leaning on. She hadn't been there for very long, maybe about ten minutes or so.

Nathan did twitch, but that was all. "Wanda," he said, not quite tonelessly. The dark circles under his eyes were painfully obvious in the overhead lights. "He's not up for visitors."

She smiled a little. "I know, Nate, I came to see you." She tilted her head to point down the hallway. "Come on, you look like you could use some coffee. Well, sleep more than anything but I bet you'll only take the coffee."

Nathan shifted from foot to foot, eyes flickering back towards the quarantine area. But there was nothing to be done right now, and he couldn't afford to look like warmed-over death. People would ask Questions. And that would be tiresome. "Nothing to see," he muttered, but fell in beside her. "Just plain old me."

"Plain old exhausted you, yes, I do see that," Wanda responded. They headed out down the hallways but she kept walking when Nathan meant to stop at the little coffee area down there. "Kitchen. Where there's some sun and some breathing room. And, last I checked, completely empty. Take it as a sign, when was the last time the kitchen was completely bereft of 'starving' young bodies?"

Nathan shrugged, but stepped obediently into the elevator. "Why did you come to see me?" he asked as the elevator moved upwards. His mind, which was working rather sluggishly this morning, presented him with a recent. "Haven't heard from our favorite reporter, have you?"

"Mmm, no, not lately. I think she and her friends are still pouring over the first journal I sent to them." The doors dinged softly and Wanda exited after Nathan did. "No, I came to see how you were doing. With Jean-Paul's injuries and trauma, plus what you went through, I wanted to see how you were doing."

She coughed into her hand. "And please don't try and tell me that you didn't actually go through anything."

"Would I argue with you, Wanda?" There was no humor in the sound, and Nathan was silent as they headed down the hall towards the kitchen, at which point he made a beeline for the coffeemaker. "I'm fine," he said, once the cup was safely in his hand and he'd taken a sip. "I got to wander the Ukraine for the better part of a week. Very scenic."

It was ironic really - she really didn't care much for coffee. But the job had gotten her addicted to the jolt of caffeine that tea couldn't really offer her. "Would you argue?" she mused as she proceeded to doctor the hell out of her coffee. Tea was always taken black but coffee needed the sugar and milk and as much of it as could be fit into the cup. "Let me think - often, always and yes." She sat across from Nathan and took a sip of her drink. "I cannot tell if you're trying to bs yourself, me or the both of us at once. But only one of us is buying it."

"Not really material whether you buy it or not. I got cocky, and the wrong person paid the price. The situation really is that simple."

"Well, no, it isn't. But I have been your friend long enough to know that you simply will not listen to me." She shrugged. "All I can ask is you do actually try to not talk like this in front of Jean-Paul."

Nathan nearly dropped his coffee. His hands clenched around the mug and he set it down, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He was a shade or three paler than he had been an instant before, and his gray eyes blazed angrily. "I ought to throw you in the lake from here," he growled, his voice not quite steady. "Do you think I'm that stupid? That selfish?"

All at once, he didn't really want to talk to her. He rose abruptly, his chair wobbling ominously as it was thrust backwards, and stalked out of the kitchen. He didn't stop until he was through the back door and onto the porch, breathing in the fresh (if humid) air. His eyes were stinging, and he blinked furiously, sitting down on the steps and staring out at the grounds fixedly.

"No, Nathan, I do not think you selfish at all. Quite the opposite really." Wanda had followed almost immediately, regretting her words. But it always, always, took something like that to break through that monotone wall of his. Gently, she placed his coffee mug on the railing that ran around the porch and stepped away, leaning her arms against it as she cupped her own between both hands. "I am sorry, I was insensitive and I really did not mean to upset you."

"I think that's the first time you've ever apologized to me." Nathan's voice was gravelly, and he still wasn't looking at her. "Considering some of the things you've said to me over the years, I'm wondering if I should mark it on the calendar."

Silence, for a long moment. Nathan rubbed at his arms, a strange gesture given the heat of the day. "It's too cold in the infirmary," he said, almost under his breath. "Always is. I've had plenty of opportunity to notice, haven't I?"

"Some of those things, mind you, were perfectly valid." Wanda smiled into her coffee before sobering. "Yes, you have. But, sadly, so do have most of the adults that live under this roof. But you do have more than a passing acquaintance with it." Unlike some voices, hers held no mocking. "Your coffee is still warm, though, it'll help."

He looked over at it. It levitated off the porch railing, wobbling a little in the air as it floated to his hand. Folding his hands around the mug, Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, his features tightening with what only someone who knew him well would have recognized as pain. Anyone looking closely enough would have seen he'd gone pale again.

"I'd like the headache to go away," he said faintly. "I think it's my penance." He opened his eyes again - although they were narrowed, as if the light hurt. "I still can't believe you thought I'd ever... never, Wanda. Not a goddamned word. It's bad enough that they - that he's hurt this bad because they were using him to get at me."

"I was being a bitch, trying to get through that damned wall of yours," she sighed, shaking her head. "It worked. Oh my did it worked but I was wrong to say it. Look, mark your calendar. Two apologies in one day. I do not think you would say it - but I worry. About you." Now Wanda turned, leaning her hip on the railing, and looked at him. "You wall yourself away. And I worry because when I look at you, I see my reactions. This isn't your fault and I tried the wrong way to make you see that."

Nathan's expression was distant, almost distracted. "Stop apologizing," he murmured. "It's fine." His jaw trembled briefly, but his voice was still low, almost calm, as he went on. "If it makes you worry less, I know I didn't do this. But I did put him in the position where this could happen. Because I thought I could still carry on with life, as long as I was careful enough." He swallowed, his throat feeling raw again. "God, I used every trick in the book. Everything that let me keep ahead of Mistra for all those years. Except, I still went to Moldova to consult on a kid's soccer program. Somewhere, I slipped up. Maybe it couldn't turn out any other way but this, when I tried to have it both ways... Gavin was right, I'm such a hypocrite."

Wanda lowered the coffee cup from her mouth and to the railing very, very slowly. "He said you were a hypocrite?" she asked. Gone from her voice was the lingering apology or the frustration - it was very level now, very calm. "And what, exactly, brought that on?"

Nathan was too miserable - and too exhausted - to catch the meaning of the change in tone. He shrugged. "Not in so many words. But he - well, remember when Pete was undercover, years ago, and put me in the hospital? How Jake helped set that up kind of unintentionally by couriering for Gideon?" Nathan sighed shakily, taking a sip of his coffee. "I said something to him back then, about how he needed to think about his job, and putting the people at the mansion in danger...."

The response to the explanation wasn't in English but it was harsh and angry; more so after the calm in her voice shattered. After she was done, she sucked in a deep breath and spoke in English, "Jake is an ass. I do not care how badly he is hurting right now, what he said is not untrue but also just - oh my god, what on earth possessed him! I know what will possess him when I get back to the apartments!" And she had felt bad for what she said - this just infuriated her beyond belief.

Nathan finally looked at her, for the first time since he'd retreated from the kitchen. There was an awkward, quizzical sort of look on his face, as if he didn't know quite what to say. "He and Jean-Paul...don't be hard on him, Wanda. Not on my account." The sad little smile was there and gone again almost instantly. "Besides. He was right."

"He reacted badly," Wanda responded, wondering just when they had gotten to crazy not fun land where she was willing to throw one of her dearest friends out the window and Nathan was willing to try and reel him back him. "Regardless of what he felt, Nate, of the situation, he was still wrong. And I do not care if you don't believe it, I do. And I am just egotistical enough to say that's enough for the both of us."

Nathan shook his head a little, looking back out at the grounds. "It doesn't matter," he finally said, more softly. "More important things to worry about right now." He set the mug down on the step below him, because his hands were unsteady and he didn't want to wind up with burns on top of anything else. His voice was uneven as he went on. "I've... told people I cared about, that they were going to make it through... things that broke them, more times than I can count. I've tried with everything I had to help them. I won't do any less with Jean-Paul, but I just... I just don't know that it's going to be enough," he concluded brokenly.

With some effort, Wanda balled up the anger on his behalf and shoved it behind walls of her own. "It will be enough," she responded, walking down the steps. She moved the mug aside and knelt in front of him and gently took his hands in hers. "You will be there for him, as will the rest of his friends, and that will be enough. I promise." She didn't normally invade his personal space but she decided he needed it. Letting go his hands, Wanda leaned up and hugged him, grateful that even with the step down, they were close enough in height to not make it an awkward hug.

Nathan tensed for a moment, but didn't pull away. He even leaned in for a moment, and it was as much of an admission as if he'd said aloud that yes, he needed a hug. "No giving up." It might have been a promise in return, but he sounded so exhausted that it was hard to tell.

---

A furious Wanda confronts Jake over his phone call with Nathan. Blood and cake are spilled, but even that's not enough to get through to Jake.



The anger that she'd bottled up at the mansion was bubbling over and Wanda started to stalk to the window in her bedroom, fully intending to go through Jake's bedroom window and give him a piece of her mind. But she stopped and then turned on her heel and headed out into the hallway of the apartment building. She'd never, ever actually gone in through the door to Jake's apartment, not even when he moved in.

It didn't take long to find Jake once she'd slammed open the main door. He was the one standing in the entryway to his kitchen, frozen in shock, clutching the plate piled high with some sort of cake on it. The expression on his face would have been funny if she'd been in a different mood, especially as it changed to more shock as she strode over and punched him square in the nose and knocking him flat on his butt.

"When you decide to be an ass, you really go the distance," she snarled, shaking bits of plate and cake off of her shoe.

Jake was too stunned to even blink, much less notice that his cake was now splattered across the floor as if there had been some sort of confectionary massacre in his apartment. Wanda had broken his damn nose. Wanda. Had broken. His damn nose. He stared up at her from where he was still sprawled across the floor, wide-eyed and dumbfounded, as blood began to run freely down his chin. "Wha--Are you possessed?" he managed to blurt out, mere seconds after he remembered how blinking worked.

"Hardly." That, apparently, came with far less clothing. Possessions seemed to be clothing optional affairs. For a second, guilt hammered home as she took in the blood and expression on his face. And then she remembered Nathan.

"Nate says hello. Or, rather he doesn't, as he was too busy defending you at one point."

Jake blinked rapidly, trying to track the thread of the conversation, but it still wasn't making sense. Had she concussed him? "What are you talking about?" He started to scoot backwards, away from her, but stopped when he realized that that would only send him deeper into the narrow, dead-end space of the kitchen.

Hands on her hips, feet firmly planted, Wanda bent forward slightly so she was towering over Jake. The only way he could get out would be to run her over and considering the mood she was in, he was more than welcome to try. "Nathan. Dayspring. You know - you told him he was a giant hypocrite when he called to tell you about his best friend's medical and mental condition. He certainly remembered the conversation."

Jake shrank back, his confusion resolving into--well, a different kind of confusion. "I...He said that I said that he was a hypocrite?" He didn't really remember that part, although to be fair, he hadn't really wanted to remember most of it. Nervously, he eyed the gap between her legs and tried to calculate whether or not he could wriggle through it and to freedom before Wanda caught him.

He frowned, thinking back on their conversation. "I don't think that's the exact term I used, really..."

"Why do I have this distinct feeling that if you told me exactly what you'd said, I'd be even more pissed off than I am right now?" Wanda asked and then she slashed her hand through the air. "Don't answer that, it was rhetorical. I just cannot get over it - I know you and Nate do not get along and I know that you were a wreck while they are missing. But trust me on this - Nathan is much worse off than you are right now." She growled and grabbed fistfuls of her hair in frustration.

Jake flinched back away from the hand slicing above him, even though it was nowhere near hitting him. This was bizarre--Wanda was yelling at him, and he still wasn't sure exactly why. Not to mention-- "Why are you taking his side?" he asked, bewildered, trying desperately to put the pieces together.

She stared down at him.

"Because you were an asshole!" Wanda yelled, looking stunned. He just wasn't getting it and Wanda didn't know why. "You - I - cannot -" She ended up scolding him for a second in another language entirely while flailing her arms, unable to find the words in English. "And another thing, just because you're my closest friend, Jake, does not mean I will 'side' with you in everything! I am your friend, not your yes man!"

"I know that," he muttered, looking down at the cake and the frosting and the--he shuddered--spatters of blood that surrounded him. "But--" he looked up at her, a genuinely dumbfounded look on his face. "He almost got Jean-Paul killed."

Her shoulders slumped. "And I nearly killed Sam and Ororo, for a start," Wanda said in response. "I never asked for someone to play piggyback in my mind for my life. Nathan never asked for this, either. None of us asked for shit to happen to us or to our friends." And this, Wanda realized, was one reason that Jake ran. He didn't keep close ties with his friends, he didn't look back - he ran because if he stayed, there were things he'd have to see and own up just like the rest of them.

"I'm trying to figure out if I should stay mad or just disappointed." She did feel a wave of guilt but she knew that it was more that she'd slipped up as well in her conversation with Nate - she just realized it.

Jake slumped against the doorframe, utterly exhausted. "You broke my nose," he said disjointedly, his hand coming up to cover the aforementioned part even though he'd mostly knitted it back together already. "And my cake." The loss of the cake was almost worse, and he rubbed at his eyes, suddenly hurt and annoyed and still painfully confused.

It was like kicking a puppy. And a puppy she cared for deeply and would do things for him without him asking for it, if need be. But Nathan was her friend as well. "I'm sorry about your nose," she said simply, rubbing a hand across her face. "You hurt Nate, Jake, and he. God, he agreed with you. That's the part that kills me."

One day, when things were better, she was going to lock Nathan and Jake up in a very small room with some very large biting things, cover them in cheese and then go get very, very drunk. Today was not that day.

Comments

[x-wallflower-.livejournal.com]

I adore both these logs, just so you know. The first was heart breaking, and Wanda breaking Jake's nose and him being upset about the broken cake made me laugh.