xp_logs | Nathan and Charles, Monday afternoon (Reply)

Backdated to Monday afternoon. Nathan and Charles meet down by the lake, to discuss his problem and What Can Be Done. They take a trip into Nathan's mind and wind up confronting Askani.

It was a beautiful day, Nathan thought as he made his way down to the lake. Warm, sunny... he would have quite enjoyed it, under other circumstances. But a chill the sun couldn't touch had settled into his bones, and he had his hands deliberately shoved in the pockets of his jacket because they wouldn't stop trembling. Idiot, he accused himself feebly. Nothing like quailing at a conversation you yourself had arranged. But the acknowledgement of his cowardice didn't seem to help; as he spotted Charles down the water, waiting for him, it still took real effort to put one foot in front of the other and head over there.

"Afternoon," he said, hearing the nervousness in his voice and hating himself for it as he came up beside Charles. "Nice day, isn't it?"

Charles was enjoying the sun, having settled himself on the landing area just above the path down to the dock itself. Long before Nathan's footfalls sounded on the cinders, his fear washed up against Charles' awareness. He closed the electronic organizer that he'd been ignoring in his lap when Nathan spoke.

"Beautiful indeed," he agreed, looking up at the tall mercenary. He tucked the organizer away and folded his hands in his lap. "I won't be doing anything without your permission, Nathan," he said without preamble. "I think we need to clarify that immediately. If you decide you'd rather simply discuss this with me, that's all we'll do. It does you no good to have your mind invaded yet again."

Nathan saw the chair on Charles' other side and went over to sit down, managing a tentative smile. This was Moira's friend, he reminded himself, Moira's friend whom she had known for years before he had ever shown up on Muir Island, and she trusted him. "Intellectually, I know that," he said, unable to help a sigh. "Instinctively is another matter entirely. I... do really appreciate this, though. Much as I may be acting like I don't."

"I completely understand your ambivalence, Nathan," Charles said dryly. "Don't apologize in the least. You're far from the first person whose need for my assistance only slightly outweighed their discomfort. Why don't we begin with what you'd like me to do for you, and we'll go from there. It's in everyone's best interest that we find a solution to your present dilemma as quickly as possible."

"I know," Nathan murmured, staring out at the glittering lake for a moment. "Believe me, I know." He was silent for a long moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's becoming quite clear," he said slowly, finding it hard to put the words together, "that my problem with my precognition is becoming a problem with my telepathy, too. Not just in terms of Her--Askani," he said, nearly choking on the words as he heard himself give the same inflection to the pronoun as so many of those whose eyes he had seen through had. "This latest wrinkle... stopping breathing and so forth... I think it's because I connect so closely to the minds of the people I see through. When they die..." He took a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety away as it flooded up, trying to drown him. "It's like.. I felt someone die in a firefight once, when I was much younger. Before I learned proper shielding. It feels like that, but worse." He forced himself to look at Charles, meet that calm gaze. "I don't know whether it's something that's gone wrong with my shielding or what's happened... I just don't know enough. I never really developed my telepathy. They let me get away with learning shielding and a few useful tricks and nothing more..." He trailed off helplessly.

Charles nodded, his face stern and serious. "I'm aware of the sensation." His eyes were sympathetic. "I agree that your physical well-being is at stake here and I do believe that it is a matter of practice to keep the deaths you experience from translating into a physical symptom. The mind and body are inseparable in many ways and if you believe that you are dying deeply enough, you will die. That's definitely a telepathic shielding issue, Nathan, separate from your precognition, and I believe that you and I can work together to train your mind out of the habit of believing what it experiences. Oddly," and here he looked a little amused, "you may well have exercised the skill in the past, when it was your own death you were close to experiencing. There's a very good reason that stubborn people live longer."

Nathan smiled a little, almost involuntarily, thinking of those first weeks with the virus and Moira's exhortations to him to 'exert some bloody willpower!' Oddly, the memory, or perhaps it was just the thought of Moira, calmed him somewhat. He was doing this as much for her as for himself, he reminded himself. "I'd be in your debt, Charles," he said, a bit more formally than he had really intended. He smiled again, the expression coming a bit more easily this time, turning almost sheepish. "Although possibly a very infuriating student. Moira still claims she had to rail at me from dawn to dusk for the better part of two weeks to get me to focus on honing my telekinesis."

Charles turned his chair so that he was facing the other man. "I'm aware that you feel that you have little to fight against, or with, but that's simply not the case. I believe that you're being taken advantage of because your telepathic skills have atrophied." He tapped his legs, drawing the parallel without words before continuing.

"Mutations are not mere accident, they are deliberate evolutions of the human genome. This is not to say that all function well, but given the extremity of the alteration to the basic human form involved, an amazing percentage of these incredible leaps in human development are not lethal and often not even damaging to the mutant in question, regardless of how deadly they may be to anyone else. Adequate support and training increases that percentage even more. I believe, Nathan, that we will not only ensure that your life is no longer endangered through support and training, we may even give you back some semblance of control over the situation. I think therefore that you will be extremely motivated to learn."

It was like someone had pulled up a boat in that mental ocean of his and thrown him a lifeline. Nathan stared almost blankly at Charles for a moment, still struggling with the idea of having control, any control at all, over this. The idea was so... overwhelming that he started to realize just how much, despite Marie's words, despite Moira, despite everything, he had indeed given up on the hope of ever finding a way back to what passed for normality. On the hope of living, instead of just surviving.

He had to clear his throat before he could speak again. "I... think you're right," he said a bit shakily. "Knowing that it's even a possibility... how could I not be?" Looking back out at the lake, he concentrated on breathing for a moment, calming himself back down. "Do you think I could develop my shielding enough to hold H-Askani off, when she comes back?"

"Perhaps not this next time," Charles said regretfully. The look in his eyes was that of a hand extended to comfort. "It will depend on how long we have before she comes again. But I think we may find that we can work together. I am not without my resources, you know, and if you can develop any kind of tolerance for my interference, you and I may be capable of rebuking her for her ill-use of you and holding her at bay until such time as you can do so for yourself."

Nathan nodded jerkily, closing his eyes for a moment. "She's very strong," he said softly. "To be able to reach back across time... she'd have to be, I suppose." He opened his eyes again, looking back at Charles, and made himself say it. "Would it help... to see? What's in here, I mean." He raised an unsteady hand, tapping lightly at his temple. "They're... there, today, the voices. Quieter, and the images are in the back of my mind with them this afternoon, not making my eyes play tricks on me."

"It would help, yes, if I knew what I was working with," Charles said patiently. "If you're feeling up to it, I'd like to take a look some time. It's completely up to you. I promise that I'll only be observing today."

Nathan took another deep breath. "I see it as an ocean," he muttered, hesitantly lowering his shields. "It's a mindscape, I guess... it keeps coming back to me."

The younger man's shields were like Japanese doors, translucent paper and ancient wood, but Charles waited until they had been pulled back to enter. Nathan's mind was a dry, barren place; scraped raw as though it had been battered by sandstorms. Overhead the sky was polished bone, the inside of the man's skull, naked and hollow and lightless. Flogged by a relentless wind, a black sea of whispers gnawed at the shoreline, growling to itself as it ate away at Nathan's sanity. Charles walked lightly on the shifting sands, casting his awareness out about him like a net.

Nathan stood a little way away, watching the older man walk along the beach. It was... beyond strange to have someone else here, but for some reason, he wasn't feeling the panic he had expected. "Charles," he called out, distantly surprised by how real it all felt, to the point where he could almost smell the ocean, a sour tang in the wind instead of clear and salty.

Charles came to stand next to Nathan, looking out into the dark over the waters. "So," he said, looking so much younger and more powerful here, "that is the source of all this trouble." His gaze was fixed on a strange sight, a portal of broken, twisted metal set upon the waves themselves some ten yards beyond the water's edge. Within the frame of the portal, a vortex spun lazily, quiescent for the moment.

Nathan stared fixedly at it, feeling the pull, even now. There were colors inside the vortex, flickering, seething, and he realized suddenly that they were images, one on top of another on top of another. Thousands of them, thousands of different perspectives. "It's like a mirror," he said with a sort of terrified awe, taking an unconscious step closer to the edge of the water. The sea was murmuring more louder, distinct voices separating from each other. "Reflecting them all towards me... why did I never see this before?"

"Fear clouds the mind," Charles said. "I can see how this would be exceptionally difficult with your minimal shielding. Do you mind if I go take a look?" He gestured out toward the portal, the desire to explore evident on his face.

Nathan shook himself. "Be--careful," he said a little uncertainly. "They're... they're very desperate." The desire to go out there himself was almost overwhelming, but he fought it, with every ounce of strength he could muster. Something told him that wading out there and throwing himself in would not be a good idea, however weirdly attractive part of him was finding it.

"I can tell." Charles put his hand on Nathan's shoulder gently, grounding him. "Wait for me," he said and his words seemed to shift the world a little as he spoke them. With that, Charles stepped forth onto the waves, walking as though the writhing liquid under his feet were solid stone; head up, shoulders back, confident and in control.

Nathan watched him go, wide-eyed, until his attention was drawn back to the portal. Why metal? he wondered, lost in the possible symbology for a long moment until it dawned on him that the images in the portal were shifting, changing. Coalescing, he realized, taking another step forward. Fiery light rippled within the vortex, and Nathan heard himself swear in that other language. "Charles!" he called out hoarsely. "I think she's coming through!"

Charles held up one hand in acknowledgement and then stopped walking. Hands clasped loosely behind his back, he stood waiting for the one on the other side to emerge. He inhaled slowly and the reality around him shivered a little as he laid his mind upon it. When he exhaled, the sea was silent black glass under his feet, the multitude voices and souls bent to his will, and the wind whimpered and died away.

And fire exploded outwards from the portal as she strode through, clad in armor, her hair whipping around her face like living flame. "Suhal'dai ehldeera," she snarled at Charles, not sparing a single glance for Nathan, standing like a statue on the shore. "How dare you!"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, perturbed by neither her appearance nor her hostility. "For the sake of our host, may I suggest that we use our indoor voices?"

"You have no business here," she hissed at him, and Nathan took a step backwards as that angry gaze turned to him. "Why?" she demanded, sounding almost bewildered. Before he could answer she had--blurred across what had been the ocean and was standing before him, looking up at him with a mixture of pain and anger. Looking up at him, part of his mind repeated inanely. She was shorter than him. "Why would you bring another here, little brother?" she asked insistently, her accent thickening. "This is for you to do, and yet you keep involving others! Can you not stand on your own?"

Charles made the shift as easily as she, looking down at her as well from his place behind Nathan, his hand gentle on Nathan's shoulder. "No, he cannot," Charles said in tones that demanded her attention. "You are killing him. And this, Lady, is why I come to strengthen him. Not to deny you, but to aid you, in the end."

"Killing him?" She looked up at Nathan, her eyes narrowing, the fire in them fading a little. "But you survived them," she said, more uncertainly. "You stepped outside your world and lived. As we did. You understand...you are one of us."

"Lady," Charles said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice, "his heart stopped yesterday. His friends and family are fighting to save him, mind and body. Look around you! Look at this... wasteland. This was once a man. Whatever you desire, Lady, if it is not his death, we must negotiate. For otherwise, we will both lose him."

"Please," Nathan said, unable to keep the pain out of his voice as he watched her look around, her expression settling into stony lines. "I don't want your people to die... how can I, when I'm living through their eyes, seeing what's happened?" His voice cracked, but he forced himself to go on. "But how can I help you when I'm losing myself in all of this? I keep slipping away from this world, into yours..."

And she started to laugh. She took a step back, shaking her head, raising her hands as if to defend herself from what he was saying. Nathan flinched inwardly, something twisting in his chest as he listened to how hollow, how despairing, her laughter became as it went on.

"Am I supposed to pity you, little brother?" she finally gasped out, looking up at him, and there were tears of fire running down her cheeks. "When I look out over my world and see my people dying in agony, am I to pity your weakness?" She pushed herself forward for a minute, and Nathan raised his hand in time to catch her wrist before she could strike him. "You are weak," she hissed, her eyes burning into him as if she were seeing into his soul. "You stepped outside your world, but you ran... you ran and let them turn you into a hunted animal! No wonder you lose yourself in our death... you aren't alive!"

"Not pity." Charles' voice was ice to her fire. "But if you are worth mourning, then you will consider his weakness with grace, you will consider the weakness of the least of your people. There is no place for your recrimination and hyperbole here, Lady. He is all you have and I will deny you him if you do not respect him." He stared her down with cold eyes; there was no anger in him now, because there was nothing to negotiate on the matter.

She raised her chin. "And how, precisely, do you plan to do that?" she asked, with a haughtiness that wouldn't have sounded out of place coming from a queen.

"I have technology that will allow me to deny Nathan the mutation in him that allows you to contact him, it will cut him off from you by shutting down that part of his mind. I've used it before on others and I will use it again, if I must, to save his life." Charles gives Nathan a deeply apologetic look. "I am sorry, my friend, but I will not let you be sacrificed to the cause of an arrogant and careless people, not against your will. I know how you struggle to live. I will not let you be lost."

Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find some last, distant reservoir of calm. He had to reach her somehow, he thought distantly, and then it came to him. "Se'vahinar, te aliathama wure'halda, te annondar Askani," he said, the formula rippling off his tongue, and she gave him a startled look, the disdain fading abruptly from her face. He knelt, instincts that weren't his making him put one hand to his heart and extend the other. "I know why you're doing this," he whispered brokenly, bowing his head. "I want to help you, sister, but I can't do any good if I'm dead! Tell me what you need me to do, and let me do it!"

Charles watched Nathan with respect and concern, stepping back a half pace - not that distance meant anything in this place - to allow the two of them to work this out, if they could. He watched the woman's changing auras with interest. He could have found the meaning of Nathan's words easily enough, but he'd already gone beyond the mere observation he'd promised the other man, so he stifled his curiosity and waited.

She stared down at him, and Nathan couldn't help a flinch as her lips curved in a slight smile. "You've learned more of us than I thought, little brother," she said, the flames around her dying down.

"How could I not?" he asked raggedly.

"Then don't pretend not to know what you have to do," she said almost severely, as if she was lecturing a misbehaving child. Nathan looked up at her, and for the first time wondered just how old she was. "We need you to see, to understand. You're the only one who can." Her lips pressed together, she gave him a look that seemed nearly exasperated. "Is it this primitive language? Is my meaning not coming across?" She gave a harsh laugh suddenly. "We should be able to converse in the battle language, Nathan... you do know it. You've simply convinced yourself that you don't."

After decades of dealing with powerful, desperate people, Charles had acquired a deep reserve of patience and understanding and empathy. Even so, this woman grated on him. He focused on Nathan, on his scalded mind and blistered soul, watching how he was being affected by the contact. Charles' own mind kept the multitude of the sea silent and still and yet the strain on Nathan remained intense. Architecture. Nathan's mind was not structured appropriately to sustain the stress. It could be altered, but it would require relief for the work to be done and, just as with a shattered building, scaffolding to support the work until it was complete.

Even calmer, she was overwhelming, Nathan thought dimly, looking away from her again, down at the sand beneath his feet. Or was it ash? It felt like ash, almost, he thought, running his hand across it. "I need time," he said, swallowing. "It's too--it's too much. So many of them..."

"I didn't open that door," she said clearly, almost crisply, as she gestured back at the portal. "You did, Nathan. Something in us called to you - you made the connection." Her hand fell back to her side, and for a moment, there was something in her voice, a flicker of what might have been regret. Or shame. "I merely opened it farther. I sensed you watching, from back before everything went wrong. Can you blame me for seizing on the chance?"

"No one can blame you for taking the chance," Charles interjected quietly. "But we can blame you if you knowingly damage this man who has opened himself to you. It is not too late for learning, for moderation. I do not believe that Nathan would deny you but he has been sorely miseducated and is unprepared to help you, for now. Surely we can work together so that he can be preserved and you may have the observer you so desperately need."

Now she was looking at him as if he was some sort of particularly interesting new species she'd never seen before. Nathan took a deep breath and met her eyes, letting her get a good look. The faint smile came back to her face. "They were afraid you would grow too strong for them," she said, reaching out to touch the side of his face. He felt it, felt the unnatural heat of her skin, but still shivered. "That they would no longer be able to control you."

She looked at Charles, then, almost assessingly. "I could stay on the other side," she said, only a trace of a grudging edge to her voice. "Spare him my presence, at least. But that--" She gestured again at the portal. "That, I can do nothing about. I cannot even undo what I did to it." Her shoulders slumped slightly. "I do not see as you do. In truth, I understand very little of how such sight works. I may have... acted without thinking."

"Many of us do, in a crisis." Charles felt considerably more optimistic now that she could at least see that she was doing damage, admitting ignorance. "It is not too late to do things differently. Nathan and I will work from this side to repair what has been done and to strengthen him so that he can communicate with you and remain intact. This is," and here he smiled, "a magnificent opportunity for understanding and sharing."

"The visions will still come," she said warningly, looking back down at Nathan. "But I will not." The smile flickered across her face, cooler, somehow. "Until you call me. And when you understand, little brother, you will." She glanced back at Charles, her expression oddly searching for a moment. "Our time is running short," she said. "But then, it was from the moment that I first brought my people together. We were the last before the storm. And the failure," she said softly, yet almost viciously, "was yours." The fire around her blazed into brightness again, and she fixed Nathan with one last, intense look. "Until later," she said, and blurred across the black glass and back through the portal without another word.

Charles extended his hand to Nathan, to help him to his feet. "We have work to do, my friend." He let his awareness explore Nathan's mind and body, testing to make sure the man was still as well as could be expected under the circumstances.

Nathan took the offered hand. "Yes, we do," he murmured, and let Charles take them both out of the mindscape.