Nathan, sometime Saturday

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Somewhere, Nathan overhears part of a conversation.



"How's it going?"

Cold. An almost unbearable cold. Shivering, he tried to curl in on himself, to conserve body heat, but something was holding him flat, preventing him from moving.

"As well as can be expected."

A hand, stroking the hair back from his forehead in a gesture that seemed almost... motherly. Not that he ever had much basis for comparison.

"It's taking longer than you thought. This could be a problem."

Two voices. The first male, rough and gravelly. The other female, and...old somehow. Worn.

"I understand that, but someone's been helping him with his shields. Probably Xavier. Under any other circumstances I'd be pleased, but it does make our job harder."

He ought to be disturbed by the words, Nathan knew, but instead he just felt numb, as if all of his emotions were encased in ice.

"We could always have told him."

"I explained to you why that wouldn't work." An edge of irritation, as if this was an old argument. "If he's conscious of it, it won't function properly when he needs it. Besides, do you really think he would have believed you?"

A long, long pause, and when the man's voice came again, it sounded just as old, just as worn, as the other. "Still. Using their tactics..."

"We're protecting him, Colin. Just like we did with the others." Someone was bending over him, wiping away the blood trickling steadily from his nose. "Keep that in mind, and save the conscience attacks for where they'll do some good."

A tired laugh. "Fair enough."

"Good. I'm turning up his IV... he's semi-conscious again, and he really doesn't need to be."

There was a response to that, but he was already drifting away, and didn't hear it.