Nathan, Jean-Paul, Angelo (and Amelia), Monday early evening

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Nathan wakes up in the infirmary and promptly flies into a panic, because it's not where he's supposed to be.


It was the needle sliding into his arm that brought him back to consciousness, lashing out in panic at the shape leaning over him. The figure literally disappeared in a puff of green mist before the blow could land, but Nathan was already halfway across the exam room and reeling back against the wall before he registered that green mist meant Amelia. And Amelia meant the infirmary, meant the mansion...

He wasn't supposed to be at the mansion. "Don't touch me!" he said wildly, his voice so hoarse it was hardly recognizable. His knees tried to buckle, and he grabbed wildly at the cart beside him, knocking half the equipment on the topmost tray onto the floor. "Don't - I'm not supposed to be here! Where's the team, I'm supposed to be with them!"

"Nathan!" Jean-Paul was in front of him in an instant, one arm against his chest blocking forward progress and the other holding his wrist firmly. That Nate could have swatted him aside like a fly never crossed the speedster's mind. "Stop it! If there is anyplace you are supposed to be, it is right here! You look like you've been hit by a truck." He stopped for a breath. "The Blackbird is still here. No one has gone anywhere."

Angelo was right beside Jean-Paul and reaching to help hold Nathan back the next moment, only having been beaten from his corner because the speedster - naturally - could move faster than him. "We wouldn't've let them go without you, 'cause you'd react just like this. They're waitin' for you."

"You're not going anywhere unless you get back on that exam table and let me finish," Amelia said from a few feet away, green eyes narrowing. "And possibly not then."

"Let go of me," Nathan muttered, trying to straighten and only managing to sag back against the wall. His legs felt like rubber. Melting rubber. God, he shouldn't have closed his eyes on the plane. Everything only hurt worse, and he raised the arm that was working properly, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead as if it would somehow help clear his thoughts. "Fuck. Amelia, are painkillers and stimulants at the same time okay? Going to need them."

Jean-Paul exchanged a Look with Angelo. "What do you think? Should we give him the option of going back to the esteemed doctor's exam table under his own power or save the time and simply carry him?" He was pulling off nonchalant very well, all things considered. It would likely have fooled anyone who hadn't been watching him wear paths across the grounds since Nate had gone missing.

"I've carried him before, with help", Angelo said in a similar tone. "But I guess we should give him the chance to get there with dignity first."

"Oh, stop." It was the strangest, most disturbing mix of emotions Nathan found himself wrestling with, skewing from one extreme to the next even as he stood there. He blamed the bitch. She'd left his head in a mess. "Not in the mood. It's been a long day. Week. Too much left to do."

"Nathan, come and sit down on the exam table," Amelia said, in a voice that was almost gentle, by Amelia-standards.

"Don't want to." But he did anyway, shuffling more than walking, and nearly toppling sideways at Jean-Paul twice in the mere several steps it took. "Seriously," he said, shuddering as they helped him back up onto the table - don't touch me, damn it, get back-, "something to keep me on my feet. ASAP, Voght."

"I don't like it when patients demand drugs. It makes me irritable. Lie back, Nathan-"

"No!" The panic was back, and he jerked away from her hands, away from all of them.

"Nate..." Jean-Paul managed to keep his voice quiet, soothing. So long as he didn't look at the dark stains overlapping themselves beneath Nathan's skin or the arm hanging at his side, he could keep it that way. "Nate, you know us. We are not going to hurt you. We are not going to trick you. We also are not going to let you get back on that plane or walk out of here until we know that you are not going to keel over dead on us. The longer this drags out, the longer until you get on with what you need to do."

"You just have to let Dr. Voght look at you." That was somewhere between reassuring and pleading as Angelo looked up at Nathan's face to avoid the bruises. "Just... to make sure you're not hurt really bad that we don't know about. Please?"

Nathan stared at them both, gray eyes seeming to go in and out of focus, and then surprised all three of them by laying back obediently. But his breathing was still uneven, and he laid there tensely, as if bracing himself for a blow.

"If they leave without me I'll fly after them." His voice was ragged, as if it had been strained to the breaking point in the last two days. "None of this means anything if we don't finish the job. Finding them's only the first step." He swallowed, flinching as Amelia probed lightly along his ribs, but his eyes focused almost desperately on Jean-Paul's. "Promise me you won't let her knock me out. Promise."

Amelia was shaking her head as she checked his pulse. "I don't like this," she murmured, reaching for a heart monitor. "The burns are electrical. Nathan, what did they use? The marks don't look like a taser-"

"She had red hair," Nathan said, shivering.

Jean-Paul's stopped regretting not being able to hold on to his friend's hand as his grip tightened spasmed down on the edge of the table. Hearing the details of how the person who had helped to hold you together had been all but taken apart was not the easiest thing. And Nathan was still planning to walk out of there. "I promise." That was no easy thing either.

"We'll get her out of there", Angelo said, voice very low. "Her an' all the others... an' I know, that's why you have to go too."

"Have to go," Nathan echoed, as if parotting Angelo. "Hurry up, Amelia." The noise that rattled in his chest might have been a laugh. "Not like I'm bleeding everywhere."

"Everywhere, no. Internally, I'm not so sure-" Her fingers pressed lightly against his abdomen, and Nathan flinched away. "Nathan," she said slowly, a very different note in her voice. It was almost... soft. "I know you have good reason for wanting to go. But I think it would be much better if you didn't."

Nathan shook his head, pushing away her hands. "Not listening to this." He sat back up, closing his eyes for a moment to ride out the wave of dizziness and nausea. "I did not let them take me just to gather intel, do you understand that? I'm not letting anyone else die. I don't have to be able to fight, just walk, and think-"

He opened his eyes, focused on Angelo. "I promise I will let her finish checking on me if you go and check with Scott." Angelo looked like he was going to balk, and Nathan didn't have to feign the plea in his next words. "Please. We can't be on the ground here for too long, or we'll lose the element of surprise-" Forty-eight hours. It had to be nearly that already. They needed to go. He held Angelo's gaze until the young man finally nodded and went.

Jean-Paul's gaze followed Angelo to the door. He had remembered that the Taygetos operatives, for all their efficient lethality, were still children and their importance to Nathan. That was something Jean-Paul tried hard not to think of these days, for various reasons. At the moment, it was easier to do -- it was still too hard to see past Nathan's importance to him to think about any other concerns. "He is going. Back down, si'l vous plait, so the doctor can finish. I know damn well this is as close as I am going to get to seeing you get any rest."

"I don't like lying down. Feels like I won't be back to get back up," Nathan muttered, but did it anyway. Amelia moved to his other side, not shooing Jean-Paul away from where he stood, and Nathan bit his lip as she probed at his shoulder. "Never thought it'd come to this," he went on restlessly, shivering. "Teling you to let me go, so I can shatter the mind of every child in that safehouse..."

Softly, "And if you do not, what happened to you and what happened to me keeps happening, and more children are born into a life where they only exist as bodies, not even owning their own misery. And I would still keep you here if I thought you would ever forgive me for it." A warm hand covered his briefly, challenging the shivers chasing each other over his friend's battered flesh.

"I just have to see it finished." Nathan's voice was much fainter, and Amelia finally leaned back, her lips tight.

"I can get you on your feet," she said finally, "with some considerable pharmaceutical help. But you will not be up to much physical exertion, Nathan, and I want you right back here as soon as the plane lands again. The strain on your heart worries me."

Jean-Paul looked away a moment, staying silent until Amelia had gone to fetch her drugs, then bowing his head to murmur against Nate's ear. "~You will see it finished, Nathan. And then you will come back to the people who love you. No falling on your sword. No being carried back on your shield.~"

"On my own two feet. You just watch."