Jean-Paul and Nathan

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul stops by the Elpis offices to confront Nathan about blaming himself, only to find that Nate has been informed of Taygetos' newest ally.



The last day or so had been hectic to say the least. Adjusting to Jeanne-Marie's presence in his life was both wonderful and awkward at once, and it was a relief, in some ways, to have the excuse to head over to the boathouse. The Elpis offices wouldn't have quite shut down for the day, but he could wait until Nathan freed up.

Juliette was just on her way out for the day, and paused to give him a warm smile before she headed out. Inside, everyone else but Nathan appeared to have gone already, and Nathan was still on the phone, wearing one of those fixed smiles that suggested a not-quite suppressed urge to do violence. At the sight of Jean-Paul, he winked, then rolled his eyes as very loud Russian emanated from the phone. The person, whoever it was, kept yelling, and after a moment, Nathan
placed the phone back down on the cradle, almost delicately.

"Some people," he commented, almost absently.

Jean-Paul smiled a bit before perching himself on the edge of Nate's desk. "It would be an insult to say they were raised by wolves, hm? Wolves having better manners and all. But you look as if you can move under your own power, so it cannot have been so bad a day."

"I build up an immunity when I'm away from it for a little while." And he had definitely been sketchy in terms of in-office time, these last couple of weeks. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his folded hands. "Plus," he said, almost under his breath, "I can't bring myself to get too irritated at faceless voices on the phone today..."

"Oh?" Jean-Paul was curious enough that his lecture-slash-expression of concern could wait. "What wondrous thing has happened? Has some obscenely rich bastard died and left Elpis a sizable donation in his will?"

Nathan eyed him, not sure if he wanted to share What Had Happened. He wasn't entirely sure what Jean-Paul's reaction would be. Hell, he wasn't sure what his reaction was... in the process of being. "You first," he said briskly. "By what miracle did you pry yourself away from your sister?" He gave him a crooked grin, gray eyes warm enough to make very clear it was a joke.

"Concern for you, what else?" Jean-Paul's expression was not-quite-amused. "I spoke with Johnny the other day. It appears that someone in this room does not feel that he is doing a good enough job beating himself up, and so has been recruiting my students to lend him a hand."

"Hey now, it had nothing to do with recruiting people to punish me," Nathan said, making a face - and dodging the first half of Jean-Paul's comment, not so adroitly. "He needed to be told something, and the poor kid's had enough of senseless tragedy happening to the people he cares about." He shrugged, not quite diffidently. "So I gave him someone to blame, since I couldn't really explain the whole thing to him. And it's not like I told him anything that wasn't true, or used
it as an excuse to self-flagellate in company."

"I understand you could not tell him the complete truth, Nathan, but you did not have to make yourself a target either. It just wound up with Johnny feeling worse that he had been blaming someone who had no control over what happened." The last few words were delivered with subtle emphasis and a pointed look at Nathan. "I do not suppose it will do much good to ask that you stop kicking yourself, but I would at least like to put in the request."

"He needed a target. And we're fine," Nathan said, sounding somewhat distracted as he half-spun his chair one way, then another. "We talked. I told him he didn't need to apologize, he did anyway, we mocked you a little..."

"I question your choice in male-bonding activities." It was a bit disconcerting to see Nathan fidgeting in his office chair. "Should I come back when you're not longer channeling the ankle-biter?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. Sorry, I'm good." Nathan fell rather abruptly silent, staring at him. "What would I say if I told you SHIELD had passed on intelligence that suggested that Trask was meeting with a certain still-nameless bastard not long before our misadventure in Moldova?" The words came out in a rush, almost too rapid.

Jean-Paul blinked. "Trask? The psi that was traipsing about in your head all of that time?" He considered this for a moment, then frowned. "Does this nameless bastard come with a description?"

"Skinny. Balding. Likes his sidearm," Nathan said, not quite bleakly.

"Calisse!" Jean-Paul hissed, eyes narrowing. "Those two together..." He blinked. "How long before our trip was this meeting?"

"About two weeks."

"Baise-moi..." Jean-Paul ran a hand over his face, trying to get a handle on what he was feeling. More anger than fear. Good. And, oddly enough, relief. "A hell of a coincidence," he quipped, flexing his hands briefly.

Nathan's smile was vaguely sad, and not all that amused. "I don't really think it's a coincidence at all, do you? I supposed she had to lose patience with me at some point. Helping gut her organization was probably the last straw."

"No, not really." Jean-Paul folded his arms over his chest. "Good thing I went along, then. I assume the next step is to find them both and put them through a wall?"

The noise Nathan made wasn't quite a laugh, mostly because he was eyeing Jean-Paul with some consternation. "... good thing you went along?" he asked slowly.

"If you had gone alone, I would likely be having this conversation with your headstone on Muir," Jean-Paul said quietly.

Nathan's jaw clenched, and the look he gave Jean-Paul was far from pleased. "You know," he said in a deceptively calm voice, "I am not going to tell you not to think that something good maybe came out of what you had to go through. But I am not glad that you were there, and I would have much preferred to take my chances."

"I know," Jean-Paul said quietly. "Trust me, I would have...vastly preferred that we got to Tel Aviv as planned." The absurdity of that understatement almost startled a giggle out of the speedster and he stomped on that hard. "Desole, I just..." He covered his mouth for a moment before finally settling on. "It was not your fault, what happened. As soon as you were out again, they would have pounced on you."

"Quite possibly." Some of the fierceness had faded from Nathan's expression (but only some). He dropped his eyes, though, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the arm of his chair. "But I'm going to make sure you're the last collateral damage," he said, his voice low. "I don't care what it requires."

"I do," Jean-Paul said, his voice regaining some steadiness. "Just remember that those of us here here care about you more than you hate these people."

"I don't know," Nathan murmured, gray eyes very steady on Jean-Paul. "I've got a powerful lot of hate going on right now."