Nathan and Jean-Paul / Nathan and Domino, Sunday

[x-cable.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul visits Nathan in the infirmary, bearing lunch and news of the weekend's complications in his personal life. After he shoos Rachel out, Nathan has some news of his own to share.


As Jean-Paul appeared in the door of Nathan's infirmary room, the man on the bed raised a finger to his lips, gray eyes flickering deliberately to the direction of the floor. "You haven't seen Rachel, have you?" Nathan asked, in his best puzzled tone. "She's supposed to be around here somewhere. But I don't know where she could be." There was an audible, if soft giggle from under the bed.

Jean-Paul sent a pointed Aren't you supposed to be resting? Nathan's way, but played along. "I have not seen her, no. But I suppose that means you have your dinner -- and your dessert -- all to yourself." Jean-Paul handed over the paper sack under his arm, recalled his other burden, and sighed. "And Jeanne-Marie sends you this." He dropped the stuffed black and white collie on Nathan's lap. "My sister thinks she is very funny."

A curly red head poked out from under the bed. "Dessert?" Rachel asked innocently, then her eyes widened at the sight of the stuffed dog. "Dad! The elf brought you a toy! Can I see?"

Nathan regarded first the stuffed animal, then his daughter, with an equally amused look, before he handed over the dog. "There you go." Rachel clasped it to her happily, then grinned at Jean-Paul before she scrambled up into one of the two chairs placed beside the bed.

"Mom says I'm not allowed on the bed," she informed him. "Pieces might fall off Dad."

"Your mother is very wise; your father is in an advanced state of decrepitude, which is why he has to stay in bed and suffer assaults on his dignity all day." Jean-Paul did not seem exactly relaxed, but he had managed to lose the shadows under his eyes at some point. "And I have told you before about the elf business."

"I know."

Nathan raised both eyebrows. "How about you go find your mother before she finds you in here?" he asked. Rachel pouted and slid down off the chair. "And I've changed my mind. I want my dog, trouble. Give him here." The pout turned into a giggle and she handed the stuffed animal over, blowing her father a kiss he pretended to catch.

"Bye, elf," she said cheerfully and flounced out of the room.

Nathan placed the dog strategically at the edge of the bed, eyes moving from it to Jean-Paul and then back again. "No, no obvious resemblance... I think your sister's being oblique."

"I will not be blamed for whatever horrible names I finally come up with for your offspring," Jean-Paul said dryly, opting to ignore further comments on the dog. "How are you feeling?"

"Amelia had me up and walking around earlier. Let's just say I crashed and crashed hard. She broke out the good drugs, though, so... not so bad." Nathan paled as he shifted upwards on the bed, however, which didn't quite put the lie to his words but suggested he might be being somewhat over-positive. "I've got to love the food smuggling," he said, more strain in his voice. "What did you bring?"

"I am right here, you know. Available to elevate beds, fluff pillows, and keep you from hurting yourself." Jean-Paul moved to help Nate position himself. "And it is not so heavy -- lettuce-pita wraps with citrus shrimp, cucumber-orange salad, and ginger cookies. Just enough to keep you from getting too bored."

Jean-Paul seemed determined to thwart his general lack of appetite, Nathan reflected. Which was probably a good thing; Amelia had been making pointed comments about nutrition being important for healing. "Sounds good. So what's Jeanne-Marie up to besides mocking you with stuffed animals?"

Jean-Paul cleared his throat. "Well...she has met Jake."

Nathan's eyebrows hit his hairline. "I see..." He didn't, really. Unless... "Oh. Um. Dare I ask how said meeting went?"

"Well enough, once she got over the shock of walking in on us in bed together," Jean-Paul sighed. "Not the way I would have chosen them to meet."

Nathan blinked, and eyed the bag for a moment. Busying himself with investigating lunch seemed like a really good idea all of a sudden. "I can see where that would be awkward. On a number of levels."

"I do not think either of us intended to end up in that position. Jake just...he was having a bad night and it was comfortable."

"I don't think anyone would begrudge either of you a little comfortable," Nathan said, then blinked at himself, this time. Well, that was charitable of me.

"I do not know how long that will last. I could not even figure out what to call the man when I was trying to make our painfully awkward introductions."

Nathan made a noise that might have been a laugh, with a little more force behind it. "Possible to sidestep terminology problems," he said, wheezing a little. "Just practice it. 'This is Jake.'"

"She beat me to the punch. Apparently, the proper designation is 'my Jake'." Jean-Paul looked amused. "I will have to keep that one in reserve. It makes him turn the most interesting colors."

Another laugh/cough escaped Nathan, along with a wince. "See," he said, using his good arm to start unpacking lunch, "that appeals to me. It's good for him. Will encourage him to grow as a person."

"Or flee back to the city as fast as his legs can carry him." Jean-Paul didn't seem terribly upset by this possibility. "I am going to have to be very nice to both of them for a while before I am in anyone's good graces again."

"And I can't even offer you my couch as a refuge. Well, I can. But with the monkey in residence I'm not sure how much of a refuge it will be." A flicker of a smile crossed Nathan's face, but it had an odd edge to it. "Moira and I have been chatting, by the way."

"Have you?" He leaned in and tapped Nathan between the eyes (albeit carefully, just in case). "And what topic has been so important that you have managed to actually keep it contained in that leaky vessel of yours?"

"Retiring." Nathan's tone was rueful, yet amused at the same time.

Jean-Paul sat back, regarding Nathan with no little surprise, though he recovered quickly. "Yes, I suppose that would do it. Are you coming out for or against it?"

Nathan's eyes slid away from Jean-Paul's for a moment, the strange little smile playing on his lips again. "For," he said quietly, sounding regretful. "Moira did a jig. Well, no, not really. At least not where I could see her."

"Hm." Jean-Paul tried very determinedly not to think of the party he was going to throw once this became official. "I suppose if I were a more selfless man, I would be talking to you about the good fight and staying the course and all of that nonsense that assumes you have not already done more than your part. As It is, I cannot help but be somewhat relieved."

The smile turned into a brief grimace. "I'm being realistic. Yes, it's entirely possible that I could recover from this and put the leathers back on. I've come back from worse." Although not much worse, all things considered. Nathan gave a shallow cough, wincing again. "But all this damage is cumulative. And I'm not paying the whole price right now."

"Not to mention the previous discussions about quality of life and your daughter having memories of you that do not involve wheelchairs." Jean-Paul's expression was completely serious. "There is nothing wrong with living for yourself, Nathan, or for the people you love. And even without the leathers, you will have Elpis as a outlet for do-gooding."

"There is that." But Nathan wasn't meeting his eyes, now. "And... there's what happened with John."

Jean-Paul was immediately defensive on his friend's behalf. Lense hadn't given Nathan any other choice; if Nathan hadn't put him down, someone else would have had to; the man had rejected the second chance Nathan represented...but Nathan knew all of that. And Jean-Paul supposed that knowing didn't make any difference when it came down to it. Or perhaps it made it worse.

In the end, he just nodded.

"X-Men don't kill." The faint smile came back, humorless. "I know that's not an absolute. But I choose to do this, to put on those leathers, because I knew we would do everything we could to make sure it didn't come to that. Because it's an SOP that values life, and that flies in the face of everything I was taught...and I wanted that." Needed it. Needed to believe in it so badly, and still did, if it came right down to it.

"You valued the lives those six children were not going to have if Lense and his people had their way," Jean-Paul pointed out quietly. "You did do everything that you could, Nathan. Over and again."

"I think... I could accept that, with some time," Nathan said, but sounded uncertain. "With lots of talking with Jack Leary. I can already accept that I wouldn't have preferred to die in his place. But the fact remains, as long as I do put on those leathers, I'll never be free of the possibility that I might have to make that choice. And I don't know that I can live with that, after everything I'd been and done in my life..." His voice sounded choked. "I've been lucky up until now. I know that. I've managed to not have to kill. So that I never had to be what they made me again."

Jean-Paul understood that desire much more clearly than he ever would have wished to only a few months gone and he couldn't let Nathan think that of himself. "You are not, Nathan. You have not been that man for a very long time. Whatever Mistra put into you, the use of your skills -- withheld or brought fully to bear -- has been up to you, not them. You are not theirs."

Gray eyes met his for a moment, full of fatigue and an obscure pain, before they dropped again. "But I came so close to that line... not just with John. In Greenland. They... it's like they peeled the layers back, and there was Cable, still. Just the same."

"Not just the same, Nathan." He hoped he would not have to explain that. He had been sentimental enough for three lifetimes in the past week or so.

Nathan rolled his eyes - at himself, not at Jean-Paul. "Listen to me," he said with a sigh. "God, I'm getting morose. And I seem to feel the need to make this all so complicated. I'm old, I'm tired, and I'm busted, as Kyle would say. It hurts to get out of bed on a good day. So maybe I need to start letting myself sleep in a little. On a regular basis."

"Comparatively, yes, and hell yes. I hope you are not expecting me to try and talk you out of any of this, Dayspring. Add regular meals and fresh air to that list and I may have to start believing in miracles."

Nathan waggled a paper-wound pita wrap at him like a giant finger, fighting his way back to a bantering tone. "Don't push your luck."


Later in the day, Nathan wakes up to another visitor and gets a pleasant surprise.


He'd gotten used to waking up to find someone sitting by his bed; it seemed like some of the usual suspects were taking shifts. Rarely, however, did they have their feet propped on the bed, and the sight of just who was doing that brought a sleepy smile to his face even before his eyes had fully focused.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Oh yeah," came the reply. "You know how I just love reading reports from Central Asia."

Dom dropped the stack of papers she had been reading on the floor beside her chair; she could always finish them later. She swung her legs down from where she had propped them up, taking extra care to avoid any of the ridiculously expensive medical equipment, and slid her chair closer to Nate's bed. "Nice to see you awake, old man."

"Been awake lots." The smile was still playing on his lips. "When did you get here?"

"About," she glanced down at the watch on her wrist, "a few hours ago. Would have been here sooner, but people tend to get irate if you cancel meetings for the third time." A wry smile appeared on her lips.

"So how are you holding up? Need me to go get you some drugs? Apparently they make them in cherry and grape flavors now."

"I'm okay for now." He paused. "Glad you're here." His smile wobbled.

She reached out and laid her hand on his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm glad you're all right." She hated seeing him like this, all broken and battered. "I heard about what happened out there."

"Another dramatic story in the life of Nathan Dayspring." The humor was definitely forced. "I accumulate them."

"We do seem to be magnets for this stuff," it was easier to go along and force the humor, "guess it goes hand in hand with what we do. Making the world a better place and all that. Someone's bound to want to fuck it up."

"Except this was old business." Nathan gave an odd, shallow sort of sigh, then winced, paling. "I hate old business," he muttered. "Comes back and back and back..."

The grip on Nate's hand tightened as Dom's eyes met with his. She held his gaze for a few moments. "Yeah. Me too, Nate, me too." She sighed heavily and propped her chin upon her hand. "But you saved those kids. You got them out of there."

"Didn't see them, after that first time. So little..." Nathan's eyes were distant and sad, suddenly. "Moira took them to Muir. She probably told you that."

Dom nodded. "It'll be better for them there. They'll be able to undo what those bastards did to them." She shook her head sadly. "They'll be able to have a good life, one they deserve."

"They're young enough." Nathan was quiet for a long moment, still holding her hand. "I killed John," he finally said.

She sat in silence for a few moments. They had killed before, but this was different. John and Nate had been through so much, there was history there, and Dom could see the subtle ways this was eating at him. "I'm so sorry," she whispered finally, her violet eyes mirroring the sadness she saw in his. "Nate, I'm so sorry."

"Everyone's so understanding." Nathan's tone was odd. "Waiting for someone to point out all the things he's done. Putting me in a coma. Etcetera. It'd be a good excuse to jump out of bed and kick someone's ass." Or fall on the face on the floor, more likely. But it would be nice to be able to give into the anger, just a little. It would be better than this... bleakness.

"You really think you could kick someone's ass right now?" Dom gave him "the look" and gave his injuries a quick once over. She sighed and shook her head. "You and John, you guys have been through a lot. I don't think anyone would blame you for being shaken up at what happened."

"I don't need to actually jump out of bed," Nathan muttered, ignoring her last comment. "Didn't do anything to my brain this time."

That elicited a snort as she tried to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up into a smile. "Maybe not this time, but I'm sure there are a few loose braincells floating about in there. Would explain a lot actually."

"Oh hush." He squeezed her hand. "Not going to run back to Tel Aviv too soon, right?"

"I've got enough work to keep me occupied for at least a couple of days." She smiled and returned the squeeze. "And Angelo could probably use some help getting things situated for him to run the office until you're back."

"Yes. Stage a coup." Nathan closed his eyes, but didn't let go of her hand. "See if I care."

"I promise we'll be benevolent and won't put up too much of a fight when you decide to return," she said soothingly. "I'll get your wife to write you a doctor's note, so all you have to do is focus on getting better."

Dom watched him for a few more minutes, still holding onto his hand. His breathing fell into a gentle steady pattern, and his grip on her hand loosened. She slipped her fingers free of his, careful not to disturb his slumber, and laid his hand back down on the bed. Then, picking up her discarded papers, settled in to read.

"Sweet dreams, Nate," she whispered.