xp_logs | Pete and Nathan, Monday night

A shot-up Pete arrives back from Uganda, and Nathan's there to pick him up. On the way back in the car, they catch each other up on some of the developments of the last couple of weeks and make some plans regarding getting back into shape, the school's self-defense courses, and Pete's new Excalibur group. Spook-ly bonding, basically.

"Never.. going... to... Uganda... again..." Pete muttered to himself as he slowly clambered down the steps of the plane, leaning heavily on the guiderail on the left. The airstrip was pretty much deserted. The pilot was talking to a couple of guys in cheap suits off to one side. He hadn't asked too closely about what else the plane might have had in its cargo hold that meant that it was coming in to a more or less deserted airfield in the dead of night, and now he was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

He clipped a fake ID badge to his shirt, and slipped into the terminal building through the open side door he'd been told about. The badge wasn't much more than a laminated photocopy, but it got him past the one bored security guard he encountered on his way to the public areas of the building, despite the dubious looking sling on his right arm. He made his way to the arrivals hall, and looked about for Nate.

Nathan spotted him and got to his feet, glad he'd finally gotten to trade his crutch and cast for a cane this weekend. Had made driving himself an option, and he got the sense that the less fuss made about this, the happier Pete would be. "You look like warmed-over shit," he observed ruefully, limping over to meet him and giving him a long, assessing look. "Car's outside. Can you make it there, or should I get one of those handy little trolley-things?"

"I'll make the car, don't worry. Should have seen me two days ago. I looked like this, and I had a hangover, too." Pete's grin would have been more convincing if it hadn't turned into a wince halfway through.

"How was the holiday?"

"Good. I think we both needed it," Nathan said, watching him closely as they headed for the doors. "Brought you back the promised bottle of ouzo. Plus the Scotch I intended to get you the last time I was on Muir." He smiled wryly. "Better quality of alcoholic painkiller. Although I do have a bottle of the conventional sort in the car."

It was probably a bad sign that Pete's eyes brightened more at the mention of the painkillers than they did at the Scotch.

"You'd both earned the break, that's for bloody sure. I've been promising myself I'd take more than a few days off at a stretch for a year or two now, but I never seem to find the time. Mind you, this is the third time I've been shot in eighteen months, so I'm starting to think the universe is trying to tell me something."

They got out to the car - which Nathan had deliberately parked as close to the door as possible - and Nathan opened the passenger's side door for Pete, steadying the younger man telekinetically as he collapsed onto the seat. He pushed the door shut and limped around to the driver's side, getting in. "Three times in eighteen months, huh?" he asked wryly, sparing a bit of concentration to levitate the pill bottle and a bottle of water out of the back seat and over to Pete. "I've got you beat. Only twice." Pete was giving the pill bottle a forlorn look, and Nathan chuckled softly, taking it from him. "Forgot. One of those kid- or shot-up-adult-proof lids."

"Deeply stupid bit of design. Us shot-up adults need the drugs more than the world needs stupid kids kicking around. No need to childproof them at all." Pete swallowed a couple with water, then relaxed back in the seat.

"Anyway, one of those times really wasn't my fault. I was unlucky enough to be in the middle of a sodding firefight when Charlie gave us all that god-awful headache last year."

He paused.

"You know, that seems like such a long bloody time ago."

"Mmm," Nathan said, starting the car. "The Pack was in Berlin at the time, thankfully, rather than out on a job. Half of us keeling over out in the field might've been very bad." Focusing on driving as smoothly as he could, he pulled out of the parking lot, his eyes flickering occasionally sideways to Pete. "So, you going to tell me what happened this time?"

"Not a lot to tell. We were almost clear when it happened. I was dealing with the last of boys that were after us from the camp, when Mandy saw the car I'd brought so she ran for it, rather than staying close - figured she didn't need to any more, the daft cow. Perimeter guard got the drop on her, and it seemed like a good idea to put meself between her and his gun in a hurry. Can't remember why, now." He grinned.

Nathan shook his head. "You and me and damsels in distress... they're going to get us killed at some point, you realize," he said, slowing carefully for a red light. He wanted to jostle Pete as little as possible. "And speaking of Amandas, ours got home okay on Saturday. She and Manuel apparently enjoyed themselves, although you really don't want to know everything they and the Pack got up to in Amsterdam..."

"Yeah, I know, I know. You know Homily's finally given up on asking me when I'm going to meet someone nice? I think she's finally twigged that almost every time I've been in serious trouble has been because of a bloody woman. That or Romany had a word with her..."

He paused.

"And I still don't know what was worse - introducing Dom to Amanda, or Amanda to Dom. You and your clever plans..."

Nathan snorted. "Hey, they'll be good for each other. In between bouts of borderline or completely illegal behaviour, I mean." Rain was beginning to dot the windshield as he drove. "Speaking of Dom, she apparently had a go at Manuel while they were in Amsterdam. Turned out to be too much for the kid." A rather nasty smile tugged at his lips. "I really shouldn't find that as entertaining as I do."

"Good for each other, maybe. It's the rest of us I worry about." Pete shifted position slightly in the seat, trying to find an angle that hurt less. "And no, you probably shouldn't. But nor should I, so I really don't care that much. Maybe it'll teach the daft fuck to think before biting off more than he can chew."

"We can hope," Nathan said, and decided to drop the subject. Friendly rambling was what was called for here. Something Pete could listen to in order to distract himself while the painkillers were kicking in, without needing to engage his brain overmuch. "Started my language courses this past week," he said. "The kids seem pretty decent, all in all. But then again, these classes are strictly voluntary..."

"Wait 'til you start setting them huge amounts of homework. Then see how decent they are. I thank god that I can't really set self-defense homework."

He paused.

"Oh, bollocks. Don't suppose anyone's mentioned what happens if Logan doesn't come back in time for next semester, have they?"

"Hadn't heard anything mentioned, no," Nathan said, making the next turn carefully. "That'd leave you as the only self-defense instructor, wouldn't it?" He shot an amused look sideways at Pete. "You know, I did do the occasional stint of hand-to-hand teaching back at Mistra..."

"Well volunteered, that man. We can split the bloody thing if we have to, although I think Logan was doing fairly formalised stuff with the advanced kids, and I've never been much cop at teaching a fighting style where they stop to name the ways to break some poor bastards limbs. My idea of an advanced class is including eye gouging and neck-breaking in the curriculum." Pete smiled ruefully. "British training. Can't beat it, but it ain't exactly a fighting style you can show off with..."

"Formal style is for martial arts competitions," Nathan said with a shrug. "You know I'm more inclined to your school of thought. These kids need to know how to defend themselves, not to look pretty doing it." He couldn't help a grin, glancing sideways at Pete again. "You and I are going to have to be getting each other back in shape, though, at this rate."

"Oh, goody. Remedial smacking the shit out of people for the old and confused." Another pause.

"Actually, I know just the man might be able to help us there. Got assigned John Culley as "Special Minder Two" with this Excalibur businesss. Ex-SAS, been working as a trainer at Monkton for a couple of years. Once we can both move around unaided again, I might try get him sent out here for a week or so, give us both a refresher if you're up for it. Met him a few times, but I need to get to know him a bit better now, and it'd be a decent excuse to take the bloke out and get him ratted, anyway."

"Definitely up for it," Nathan said. "And that name's familiar, I swear..." He shook his head. The rain was beginning to come down in earnest now, and he slowed down a little. "So this Excalibur thing's moving along, then, if you're actually getting personnel assigned."

"Yeah. Spent a lot of time on the phone, the last couple of weeks, think we've got it sorted now. Finally. Budget, and everything."

Pete rolled his eyes.

"Plan is that it's basically him and me, as permanent staff, maybe one more if we get busy. I get to do the intel gathering and networking like I have been, he's the man on the ground in whitehall, and we work together to plan the ops - either off our own back, or from what D-Ops at SIS passes us. Which reminds me, can I interest you in a retainer fee once we're both fit for something besides teaching children again? Don't want to get the whole Pack involved, but I thought I'd see if I could tempt you and Dom with occasional work if we need you."

Nathan pondered it for a moment, then nodded. "Sure," he said easily. "If what you were up to in Korea and some of the stuff you've mentioned since is indicative of what you're going to be doing with your new legitimate status and budget, I'm open to doing some field work for you." He laughed quietly. "And Dom keeps whining that she's bored. Can't imagine she'd turn you down. They should be in Iran for the next week or so..."

"That's the idea, yeah. Advantage of being set up for maximum deniability is that it's going to be a fucker getting us to do anything we don't want to, so we should be able to just take the jobs that need doing. 'Course, if anything goes wrong, we're hung out to dry, but since when's that anything new?"

Nathan smiled wryly. "Too true," he said, shaking his head as a van pulled out and passed them, moving far too fast for the road conditions. "Guess I'm not as burnt out as I thought," he went on. "If I was, I wouldn't be liking the idea as much as I do."

Pete raised a finger at the overtaking van. "There's burnt out, and there's sick of doing shit jobs for the wrong reasons. It was pretty obvious that you'd got a bad case of the second one when you showed up, neither of us is bright enough to actually retire..."

The van was rapidly moving into the distance. "We'll see how it goes, I guess," Nathan said, glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure there wasn't anyone else coming up on his ass. "Probably need to sound Moira out on how she'd feel about me running around blowing shit up again." He couldn't help a grin. "We sorted out a few things on Santorini."

Pete raised an eyebrow. "Firstly, I'd like credit for my incredible restraint in not making jokes about how only you would go to the site of history's biggest explosion and sort things out about your love-life. Secondly: 'sorted a few things out'? What, you'd got to the fighting for space in the sock drawer stage already?"

The grin was getting decidedly sappy. He didn't need to see his reflection in the mirror to know that. "Smartass," he accused Pete happily. "We passed that stage a while ago. I sort of, um, sounded her out at dinner that one night on how she might feel about... uh, settling down."

"Well, uh, sort of, um, congratulations. At least, I assume that some kind of congratulations are in order, because I'm pretty sure that she wouldn't let you drive anywhere while all fucked up on drugs, and that's the only other explanation for that sort of grin. Well done, man."

Pete smiled broadly, genuinely pleased.

"Of course, my official position is that you've been blown up one too many times, and that she's Scottish and therefore mad as a bastard anyway, but unofficially, congratulations."

Nathan laughed. "Thank you," he said, dryly but sincerely. "I haven't asked her officially yet - I figure I owe it to her to get my head together beforehand." He laughed again, more wryly. "That's another thing. I'm going to be in New York every Saturday for the foreseeable future, so I can spell you off on the driving if you want."

"Cheers. Shouldn't be too bad over the summer anyway, with most of the kids gone home, but I can use the break anyway. What's dragging you into town?"

"The aforementioned getting my head together," Nathan said. "Going to see an old friend of Moira's for a while, see if anything sticks." He left it there, giving Pete an assessing look. "Those pills kicking in yet?"

"Well, I feel sorta numb, so I think so. Why, am I going to be seeing pink elephants in a bit, or something?"

"Nothing so dramatic," Nathan said with a chuckle. "You're just still sounding more or less coherent, so I was wondering."

Pete gave him a knowing grin.

"Ah, but I can sound more-or-less coherent right up to the point of passing out. I ever tell you about the time I got called in halfway through a weekend-long bender to brief the Home Secretary? A coffee and a handful of breath mints, and the bastard never knew I was seeing two of him all the time I was giving him a threat assessment on a bunch of mad bastards in Guilford who were trying to build a death ray in their shed."

Nathan snorted, making the next turn even more carefully. The rain was getting to the point where it could be described as torrential without exaggeration. "So does this mean you're going to come along like a good boy when I drag you down to see Madelyn? Which, incidentally, is happening as soon as we get out of the car."

Pete looked slightly surprised.

"Well, yeah. I'd been planning on going myself, anyway. I can live with a while being bored in medlab much better that I can with the idea that one of these is infected, and unlike some people, I'm not allergic to proper medical care when I can get it. Provided they'll let me take me nicorette inhaler down there with me, anyway."

"I'm such a hypocrite," Nathan said with a grin and a soft laugh. "I really am. I ought to have 'Do as I say and not as I do' tattooed on my forehead." He glanced sideways at Pete, still grinning. "If Madelyn says no about the inhaler, I'll smuggle it in for you anyway."

"Cheers. It'd be for her own good, anyway. I can be a good boy as long as I'm not suffering a nic fit at the same time as I'm being poked and prodded."

He glanced sideways with a sly grin.

"And it'll probably do the kids good to see that some grown-ups can be sensible about these things..."