Scott and Nathan, Monday afternoon...

[x-cable.livejournal.com]

Backdated to Monday afternoon. Scott stops by Moira's rooms to meet Nathan.



Scott knocked on Moira's door, knowing Nathan would be inside. He'd checked with his keeper first, and had assured her that he would not upset the mercenary.

Inside, Nathan started out of a doze, a little disturbed to discover that he was sprawled on the couch but a few circles of coins were still rotating slowly around the room. "Come in?" he called a bit groggily, trying to get the coins to float back down to the table.

Opening the door, Scott caught the coins floating around the room, and made sure that, even as slow as they were, he wasn't in line for any of them. He smiled, fondly, recalling Jean's exercises. "How's it going?" he asked, nodding at the coins.

"Good--I think," Nathan said a little unsteadily, sitting up. He managed to get all but a couple of the coins back to their stacks on the table, but the last two landed wrong and proceeded to start a domino effect. "Shit," he said wearily as the neat piles collapsed in upon themselves, some of the coins tinkling down to land on the floor.

"Pick them up later, when you've woken up." Scott didn't disturb the piles, instead crossing to a chair. "Mind if I sit? Take your time waking up, or I could come back another time...?" He trailed off, looking closely at the tall merc. Something about him seemed familiar, and he couldn't quite place it.

"No, go ahead," Nathan muttered, rubbing his eyes before he tried to focus on the other man again. "Scott, right?" he asked, wondering why the younger man was looking at him like that. "No," he said without thinking about it, responding to the unspoken thought, "I don't think we've met."

"I'm sure we haven't," Scott nodded his agreement, and continued looking at the man from behind the safety of the visor, relaxing his expression so the man wouldn't (hopefully) feel so scrutinized. "There's just something familiar about you. Oh, and yes, I am Scott. Summers." He leaned forward and offered a hand. "How are you? Moira's keeping a tight rein on your visitors, similar to what you did for her a bit ago, though for slightly different reasons."

Wincing inwardly, Nathan made himself reach out and shake the offered hand. "I'm sorry about that," he said. "Again. Thoroughly. I really do generally think things through a little better than I did that night. It's just that I hadn't slept, and Moira was so--" He stopped himself, wondering if Scott would take it amiss if he slapped himself. It seemed that he needed it.

"I know. I'm sorry, that wasn't supposed to be a dig, just a comment on the protectiveness swinging the other direction." He sat back in the chair. "Do precogs generally have difficulty sleeping?" Scott asked, changing the subject, only slightly.

Nathan stopped, trying to think. "I don't know," he said finally, offering up a faint, tired smile. "I haven't known many. Mine didn't used to keep me awake. Not until it decided to start trying to fry my brain, at least."

"I was just wondering, since Marie-Ange's seems to be manifesting in her sleep with dreams, and your not sleeping." He paused, and changed topics again. "What can you tell me about this virus you've got?"

Nathan nodded, taking another moment to organize his thoughts before he went on. The question didn't surprise him, not after Moira had told him that she'd informed the staff of his condition. "Good news first," he said, rubbing his eyes again. "It's not contagious, and by that I mean there's absolutely no chance of contagion whatsoever. It was experimental. When it's released, it infects everyone in the vicinity, but once it's in your system it adapts itself specifically to your DNA and at that point it's dangerous only to you." He managed another half-hearted smile. "Thankfully, they never finished tailoring it. It was supposed to be able to jump from person to person, adapting as it moved, but my team and I got hit with one of the early variants, which is a one-shot deal."

Scott relaxed at that, unaware of the tension he'd been carrying in his shoulders since Moira mentioned it. "So as long as there's no clone of you, you should be fine. I don't suppose there's any sort of cure." It wasn't really a question...they were either working on one, or it was impossible to cure. He blinked and looked back at Nathan. "Do you know a man by the name of Nathaniel Essex?"

"Doesn't ring a bell," Nathan said vaguely. "And no, no cure. Moira's got me on a drug cocktail permanently, and I use my telekinesis to help out." He waved a hand a bit limply at the coins. "Hence the practice. Although I was supposed to be getting to the point today where I was disassembling and reassembling them. It's a way of honing my control down to the level I need to hold onto the virus." He stopped, swallowing. "I--lost my visualization of it, after what happened with Manuel."

Scott nodded matter-of-factly. "Essex was at this school some time ago. He's now at Muir. Moira ... trusts him, to some extent. I, however, do not. He operated on Ms. Braddock to restore her sight, here at the school. There were complications, the least of which was no one at the school save Ms. Braddock, the 'good' Doctor, and some students he'd ... gotten to help him." He paused again, frowning. "I believe there are further complications to that, but I can't go into it yet. Anyway, I wanted to warn you against going to him for help, if you were so inclined."

Nathan frowned. "I'll keep it in mind," he said. "I don't trust doctors, other than Moira. She hadn't mentioned consulting about my case with anyone--" He really hoped she wasn't considering that. Just the idea made him nervous.

"Then I'm sure she hasn't. Except..." he raised an eyebrow. "Dr. McCoy, he of the blue fur and basement living?"

"Oh," Nathan said after a moment. "Yeah, I guess she's probably talked to him, hasn't she?" He considered the possibility, then shrugged. "Oh, well. I'd be more worried about someone like this Essex, from the sounds of it. Anyone who might mention me in the wrong circles."

Holding up his hand, Scott continued. "She may not have talked to Hank. I don't know what sort of speciality your virus is, Hank may not even be able to advise. I'm sure she would have mentioned it if she had. She may not have even had the time yet, since it's only resurfaced." Another pause. "Is ... the ones you mentioned who might come after you. Are they related to the virus?"

Nathan shook his head. "Only in the sense that they sent my team into the bioweapons facility where the virus was without proper intelligence." It was a different, older anger he felt now, the deep, cold rage that had been enough for him to break nearly twenty years of training and conditioning. "We never had a chance," he said grimly, and started to reassemble the piles of coins. "Security was unbelievable, and when we got through it, they tried to blow the place. The virus got released, and those of us who survived the explosion were infected."

"Anyone else survive?" He wondered if there were, would any of them show up on the mansion's doorstep in the future, looking for the Moira cocktail. Or with a black ops team on their heels.

"No," Nathan said shortly.

"I'm sorry," and he was. He knew what it was like to lose someone on a team. "What...what does it do to you? Is there anything we should be looking out for, until you've got full control back?" Concern etched his face, for the man in front of him and for everyone else.

Nathan shrugged again. "I was running a bit of a fever yesterday, but it's down again, which is a good sign. I don't generally need to worry unless I start coughing up blood." He was quiet for a long moment, remembering how the others had died.

"I was supposed to be gentle, and I don't think I've done a good job. Moira will have my hide." Scott ran a hand through his hair and rubbed at his temples. "How about a change of topic? What do you think of the school so far?"

Nathan tried to smile, to push the memories away to the dark corner where they belonged. "Haven't seen as much of it as I'd like. The kids seem generally nice--especially the little ones. It's good to see them someplace safe, where they can just be kids."

"Safer. We try. We don't always succeed, as you've likely heard," he said wryly. "And that's the purpose of the school. We had a huge influx of students last summer." He grinned then, a sly look. "Just don't let Alison talk you into being a counselor. Though I don't suppose you could teach anything...?" He was mostly joking. Mostly.

"According to Angie, I'm supposed to be teaching something to do with the law degree I never used," Nathan said dryly. "Don't ask me what."

"Law degree? We always need lawyers here, but not for teaching. Though some students may be interested, those into mutant rights but not the fighting kind." He paused, thinking of his earlier meeting with Marie-Ange. "Did she see you teaching? Here?"

"I don't know that it was that clear-cut," Nathan muttered. "She seems to have had a hunch, if you want to use that word." He shifted a bit uneasily. "I don't know that having someone like me around in that sort of role is particularly in your best interests, though."

"How so?" Scott had thought about making suggestions as to why it was bad, and also thought about bringing up Pete's position as counselor, but dropped them. He wanted to know Nate's reasons, not give him Scott's own.

"Above and beyond the fact that I'm liable to attract adverse attention from the powers that be?" Nathan stopped, shaking his head. "I think what happened this weekend with Manuel is probably all the explanation needed."

Scott waved off the "powers that be" aspect. "We all attract that attention, just by being here. But, as for Manuel..." He stopped, shrugging. "Well, if you can help Marie-Ange with her secondary power, that's more than enough." /For now/ Scott thought to himself. "And maybe that's what she saw. You helping her, teaching her."

"She's a good kid," Nathan said quietly. "Precognition isnt an easy burden to bear. Particularly when it's your own future that you're seeing. I've always been very glad I never had to worry about that."

"Unless someone invents time travel," Scott laughed, then frowned. "No one has, right?" Gah, just what they needed, a mutant with the ability to time travel...

"Shit, I hope not," Nathan said with a helpless laugh.