xp_logs | [Nathan, Marie] And 27 angels from the great beyond,

Marie finds Nathan in the greenhouse after her tests and they talk about his recent problems with his mutation and she manages to understand a little of what he's going through. She promises to deliver a ~~kick~~ reminder if he starts pushing Moira away.

He liked the greenhouse, Nathan decided a little vaguely. It was warm, bright, and relatively quiet. Which was about all he could ask for, he supposed as he bent to examine the blooms on a flowering bush of some sort. Someone was sobbing quietly over to his left, pleading for help in that language he was beginning to understand more and more with every vision, but they weren't actually there, so he ignored it as much as he could.

There were fewer students and staff around during break but it wasn't too hard to find Nathan by asking around the halls. The mercenary had gone up to the greenhouse, apparently, or Marie assumed so. She couldn't think of why he'd be in the flight training area. She slipped into the warm, humid greenhouse and closed the door behind her.

"Nathan?" She began walking down the aisle at the end of the rows of greenery, looking for him.

Nathan blinked and straightened, hearing someone call his name. In English, at least. His shields were still shaky enough that he could sense another presence strongly, but it wasn't a usual sort of presence. "Over here--Marie," he ventured, nodding to himself slowly. That was who it was; he was almost sure of it.

Marie followed the sound of Nathan's voice until she could see him. He was haggard and hollow-eyed and only the fact that she had expected him to be less than well let her keep the worry off her face. "Nice up here, isn't it?" she said conversationally as she approached. She reached out to touch the hibiscus that Nathan was standing beside, brushing gloved fingers over the brilliant red petals of the early blossoms.

"I like greenhouses," he murmured. "Good places to be al--to think about things." The sobbing of the unseen person rose to a piteous scream, then cut off sharply. He tried not to flinch, making himself smile down at Marie instead. "How was your time away?"

"Normal." Her smile was impish and she laughed. "The boys were boys, there was sand everywhere all the time no matter what I did, the Baltimore Aquarium was gorgeous, Logan and I made it to Thursday morning before we had a fight, and we survived the drive home with both boys without Shinobi and Sarah to help run interference." She leaned on the ledge that bordered the greenhouse beds and gave Nathan a speculative look. "Do you want me not to ask how you're doing?"

There was a high-pitched giggle, and Nathan watched the little burned girl and one of her friends dart past the end of the aisle, playing tag or something. He was really beginning to wonder why she stuck around so much, when the others came and went. "I'm--coping," he said slowly, looking back at Marie and trying to smile again, a little less successfully this time. "Haven't wound up anywhere strange doing something embarrassing since the coffee shop."

"Embarassing's kind of irrelevant," Marie said. "And strange is more the norm around here than anything else. Coping -- there's an accomplishment. You want to tell me about any of it, what's going on in your head?" She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head a little, watching his face. I know it's hard to talk about things like that. I can't exactly say to just anyone, 'Oh, I had a lousy morning because Stanley woke up screaming again and that set Erik off and then the ghosts were busy...'" She shrugged dismissively. "Sometimes I really wish I could."

Nathan took a deep breath, staring down at the bush for a long moment. He could hear the girls laughing, but there was someone else now, too, someone cursing bitterly. So tired and angry and desperate-- "It's--the people whose eyes I see through," he muttered, still not looking at Marie. "Something happened and they're--they're here, some of them. Not all the time. But they come and watch." He looked back at her, unable to quite keep the misery out of his voice. "They're dead, and it's--hard to see them. Especially the children."

"That would be hard, yeah. I'm sorry, Nathan." Marie's eyes were sad but her voice was calm and practical. "Does anything help? Talking about it, writing it down, anything? You know that you don't have to be okay, right, that you don't have to fake it, at least not all the time. It can't be easy walking around and trying to share our normal world with us with all that going on too."

He swallowed, nodding. "I'm going to try writing it down," he said, his voice a bit hoarse. "The visions are changing. I don't seem to be blacking out as much as I just--slip. Easier to write--or type, rather." He managed a very slight smile. "Moira thinks I need to stick to doing it in a way that will make me stick to English. Writing--I tried this morning, and it's like my map. And she thinks the recorder's a bad idea for now."

"Maybe your brain is getting the hang of having the visions. That's kind of hopeful on the one hand and a little scary on the other, I'll bet." Marie looked over at a bed of sage, growing pale and feathery. "What are you most afraid of?" she asked.

The cursing voice fell silent, and Nathan looked upwards for a moment, through the glass at the clear blue sky. "Not coming back," he murmured, "but not dying. Winding up nothing but this empty shell, full of them." His throat tried to close, but he forced the words out. "I think that's what she wants."

"Me too," Marie said quietly. "I'm scared of that too. She can't have you, Nathan." She was completely serious, almost dispassionate. "We won't just let you go. Moira won't, you know that, and the rest of us... we can do more than anyone can predict, if we have to. And if you do go, we won't let them keep the shell of you, if that's what you want. I promise. You tell them that if you can."

He felt a moment of sudden, profound relief. She did understand--but then, with a mutation like hers, she would almost have to, wouldn't she? "Thank you," he said quietly, focusing on her again. "It wouldn't be so bad if they were just--angry, but they're so damned sad." His eyes blurred and burned and he rubbed at them almost irritably. "It's a whole way of life that's dying, Marie. A whole world. And I--I think it might have been a good one, before h-he decided they didn't deserve to live."

Marie watched him, taking in his words and putting things together in her head before she spoke. "And your mutation makes you their only... observer or something." She shifted a little, offering him contact, or at least the option of it, with one hand held out. "Like a witness." She shook her head. "And you probably feel responsible while you're trying not to go crazy and die inside."

Nathan hesitated, but then reached out and took her hand. It was solid, real. Just like the greenhouse around him, he reminded himself. "Lucky me," he said, with a strained smile that would hopefully tell her he wasn't really wallowing in self-pity. Or at least, not wallowing too much.

"Bullshit." Marie gave his hand a squeeze and returned his smile with a crooked one of her own. "It sucks. It's a huge burden and it's fucking up your life. But you're not alone with it. It's small consolation, but it's true."

"I think if I ever forget that I wasn't alone, you'd find Moira kicking my ass pretty quickly." He gave a shaky laugh, thinking about their conversation last night. He had woken up with her in his arms and it had felt so good, so right--for those first few moment of consciousness he had almost forgotten how selfish he was being, how stupidly optimistic that it could all turn out any way but horribly. "I'm not sure what I ever did to deserve her."

"Deserving doesn't enter into it, Nathan." Marie shrugged. "That's a surefire way to make yourself crazy, thinking like that. Things are what they are. Love isn't compensation for good deeds or hard times. This is what we have. Make the most of it."

"I'll say it again," Nathan murmured wryly, shaking his head a little. "Older than you look."

"I think I'm at least six times your age in my head, if you add it up. But that's not what it is. It's really just stuff I have to believe to get by." Marie tucked some loose white hair behind one ear to get it out of her eyes. "It's survival, not anything more than that. I'm serious." She looked up at him with an intense stare. "Don't go pushing her away."

"Old habits are hard to break," Nathan said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "But I'm trying, Marie. I promised her I would."

"Just keep trying," she squeezed his hand again, trying to reassure him with her touch. "You'll get there. If you want me to give you a kick if you forget, I will. All you have to do is ask. I like you. I don't mind trying to help you get happy and I don't scare off easy. I'm stronger than I look, too. You could lean on me if you needed to, literally or otherwise."

This place was doing strange things to him, Nathan reflected dimly (for roughly the fiftieth time this week alone). "Kicking would be good," he said awkwardly. "Though Moira swears by a good smack upside the head. I have a very thick skull, you know."

"Mm. I'll keep that in mind. A good swift punch usually works on Logan," Marie said with some humour. "I'll make sure to deliver if you step out of line. I don't know that I'll have to do it more than once. I hit pretty hard."

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Title and tag from Tower of Song by Leonard Cohen