xp_logs | Alison and Nathan, Charles and Nathan, late Monday afternoon

After a little more sleep, Nathan goes in search of Alison to thank her for helping him on Sunday. He gets (justly) shouted at, and takes it like a man.

Nathan hesitated for a moment, and then raised his hand and rapped lightly on Alison's door. Don't be a wuss, he told himself, smiling faintly. He needed to thank her, and give her the opportunity to say the many things she probably wanted to say, and the sooner both happened, the better. He heard her call out "Come in!" and opened the door. She was on the couch, and Nathan flinched a little as he saw the way her expression hardened as she saw him.

She settled back on the couch, gestured for him to come in firmly and waited patiently. From the second he had opened the door and she saw his face, Alison had no doubt that the silent treatment, complete with raised eyebrow and 'what did you think you were doing young man' expression would bring about some sort of result. She'd have crossed her arm if the stitches allowed for it, which unfortunately they didn't, but still had no trouble at all conveying her general sentiment of being vastly unimpressed with what had happened, one eyebrow going slowly up in that universal "well, what do you have to say for yourself?' query.

Nathan sat down in the armchair he'd occupied on Saturday afternoon. "So," he said a bit weakly. "I, uh, need to thank you. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there and been able to understand me."

Alison leaned back a little, eyebrow still firmly hiked up, fingertips starting a slow and almost inaudible 'tap tap tap' on the arm of the couch. After a pause she gave him a small mercy, speaking out for the first time. "And?"

"And..." He should have figured he would wind up doing this the hard way. "And, it was possibly the most idiotic thing I've ever done. Which is saying a lot." He sighed, slouching in the chair a little. "And I wish I had even a semi-coherent excuse to give you, but I don't."

The silent was almost ominous until Alison let out the breath she'd been holding in suddenly, shoulders slumping before she raised one arm and pointed a finger at him accusingly. "You." Another sound of frustration and she shook her head, growling. "Are a stupidhead." Seeing the movie Stitch three times in a row at Miles' insistence did wonders for one's insult range, it seemed. "What were you thinking? Why?!"

He did not literally need to back away, Nathan reminded himself. "I don't know," he said as honestly as he could. "At first I was just... tired of having to take the drugs to sleep, and busy enough that it didn't seem like such a bad thing not to need so much sleep. Then stuff started happening... Pete, and then this mess with Sarah and the rest of the kids... and the lessons with Manuel just got me more and more wound up, not to mention the empathic feedback from testing his shields... and all of the agitation in the atmosphere around here..." He stopped, his expression going pensive. "Then it was like I was afraid to sleep. I suppose I got pretty irrational pretty quickly."

"Gyeh!" Or at least, that's what the inarticulate agreement to the 'irrational' part come out sounding like. The chair was close and it while it was still an uncomfortable thing to do at best, Alison still managed to somehow get to her feet while keeping her weight on her good leg and loom over him, shaking a very stern finger at him indeed. "Irrational! Yes! Thank you! Now remember everything you were going
on about to me not so long ago? About, oh, talking to people! Huh? Well?" The fear of sleep reflex would have to be adressed, but since it seemed sparked by the 'not talking to anyone and stressing self into irrationality" thing...

Nathan tried not to shrink back into the chair. She really was rather formidable-looking. He was probably lucky she didn't have her cane in hand, or he got the very strong impression he'd be getting rapped over the head at the moment. "I'm a big, fat hypocrite," he said as forthrightly as he could. "But what was I going to say, if I talked? It's not like the atmosphere around here wasn't stressing everyone else out, too. Just because my ability to handle it went... somewhere..."

His voice trailed off, likely because of the furious gleam in Alison's eyes - and perhaps the low sustained growl as well. "~Idiot man! And seeing you wander about the hallways speaking only in Askani and a finger's breath away from blowing up a part of the mansion for lack of control is going to not stress people how exactly?!~" She took a deep breath, then decided ranting at a squirming man was actually very satisfying and went right on doing so. "~You could have talked about flying horses or virii from outer space that take over the world for all I care, and you will talk about those if you must!~" She glared at him for a moment longer, then declared in a very calm tone. "You are talking to Charles. Once a week." She was clearly daring him to argue with her on the matter.

Nathan bit his lip, gazing up at her warily as she stopped and glared down at him. "I think that's probably a good idea," he said very carefully. "I'll ask Charles if we can do that."

Success! Or so she hoped. With a nod of grim satisfaction, Alison stood up straight again, not looming quite so much as before - and then winced. "Stupid leg," she muttered, allowing herself to wilt ever so slightly as she shifted weight slowly to sit back in the couch, sinking into it with a groan. "The two of us with canes. Betcha Jamie starts making Jedi jokes soon." And as simple as that, the storm had passed.

"I think I'm probably getting rid of mine soon," Nathan said a bit tentatively. "Don't seem to need it as badly..." The sudden shift in her mood had left him disconcerted.

"You're not off the hook yet," she informed him mildly, carefully stretching out her leg on the couch once more. "But you said you'd talk to Charles and there's no use in being snippy once you've bowed to reason, is there?" Leaning back was heaven really - she hadn't noticed the dull pain in her leg while being all angry and unleashing her best scowl on Nathan, but now, it was certainly establishing it's presence. "I'm not for a while, I guess. Technically, should not have gotten up." She blinked, then shot him a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry," Nathan said unhappily. "I don't... you should have been resting yesterday, not dealing with me."

Alison liberated a cusion from under her hip and threw it at him solidly, rolling her eyes. "You're being a stupidhead again," she informed him, giving him a hint of The Look. "Stop it."

The cushion hit him in the face, and Nathan grabbed at it, reddening at how obviously his reflexes were impaired at the moment. "I don't really remember," he muttered. "Amanda told me some of what happened, though..."

"You posted in Askani, I went to find you and took you back to Amanda. Dosed you with sleep potion and light lulled you to sleep. In short." She leaned back once more, deciding that removing the cushion had been a good idea and this was far more comfortable. "Because you didn't sleep for what, a week?" She paused, sliding him a look, lips quirking. "Don't do that again."

"I didn't intend to do it in the first place," Nathan murmured, rubbing his eyes. "Just sort of piled up..."

"Weekly talks. With Charles." She stifled a yawn, then gave him an amused look. "It's for your own good," she said in a mock-wise tone, nodding slowly. "One day, you'll thank me for it." And besides, a talk with Charles would likely help ease the load of guilt he was heaping on himself nicely enough, she hoped.

Nathan nodded slowly. "I can hear them again," he said quietly, after a moment. "Their voices, not just the buzzing. They're soft... I think they're trying to be quiet."

After a moment of silence Alison sighed a bit, looking at him pensively. "Possible they hadn't realized that this might happen, either. And didn't know how to break you out of it earlier? Or maybe..." she shrugged a bit, taking wild guesses more than anything else really. "Maybe you're just getting better at blocking them as needed too."

"Bad timing, if the latter's the case," Nathan said with a certain bleak humor. "Although the former is certainly possible. It's not as if any of them have had this sort of experience before."

"Or you," she added pointedly, giving him a mildly exasperated look. Alison shook her head a bit, thinking that when Nathan would be in better shape, she'd ask him for permission to have a little chat with the Askani matriarch.

Nathan frowned a little. "What?" he asked a bit suspiciously. "You've got an odd look..."

A blank expression greeted that, and then Alison scolwed at him slowly, indignation showing through. Feminine indignation. "What? What do you mean I have an odd look!? I do not!"

Nathan pressed his lips together for a moment. "~You're looking through me, seeking something else,~" he said, switching to Askani.

"~Not yet,~" she answered agreeably, since the outraged woman ploy had failed. "~And not quite through you. Maybe later, when you're on steadier ground. I'll be asking you first, brother, when the time comes, plainly so.~"

"Oh," Nathan said in English, understanding. A weary little smile flickered on his lips. "Asking me is good. So long as it's not a trick question."

"Nope," she answered calmly, oddly reassured by the smile. "No trick question, that one. But not now either. Bad timing and not a rush, so..." She shifted a bit on the couch and then looked down at it pensively. "You know, after sitting in this for several days in a row? I think it's time for a new one." She prodded it with a wry look, making a mental note to email Cain about changing it.

"Can't blame you," Nathan said. "There's an armchair I'd like to get rid of for the same reason." He studied her for a moment, noticing the signs of fatigue. "I should go, let you rest," he said quietly.

"Where you going to?" she asked, with a touch of innocence, not at all disputing his remark - sleeping with a minimum of pain medication made for uneasy nights at best, more riddled with cat naps than anything else. All of that because she had odd reactions to most pain medications...

Nathan smiled a bit wryly at her. "To hear the riot act, I think," he said. "Charles is waiting for me in his study."

"Mmm, good. You can go then," she nodded in approval, smiling at him a bit. "Let me know how it went, if you don't mind? Wanting to make sure you're all right, and all."

"I will," Nathan said, getting up with a soft chuckle. "And I will be, Alison. I don't think I have a choice."

Immediately afterwards, he stops to see Charles, who shows him precisely why what he did is not a good idea. Nathan takes the lesson to heart. (OOC: Thanks to Alan for socking Charles!)

Standing in front of the study door, Nathan closed his eyes and reached out hesitantly in the telepathic equivalent of a knock at the door. It was something Charles had had him do each time they'd had a session in the weeks before his breakthrough with the Askani and the events on Muir. It was a little harder today than it should have been, as if his concentration wasn't quite 'there' again yet.

"Come in, Nathan." Even through the hardwood door, Charles' voice was stern.

Nathan swallowed, but opened the door and stepped in, closing it quietly behind him. Charles was behind his desk, watching him, and as Nathan stood by the door for a moment, uncertain, he got the sudden but definite impression that promptly sitting his ass down in the chair over there would be a good idea. So he did.

Charles steepled his fingers. "The general policy for the students," he observed quietly, "is that they not experiment with their powers without supervision. This is a policy which has, I admit, met with only mixed success. It is still the policy."

"Ah," Nathan said a bit awkwardly, after a long moment. "Probably a policy that would be... best followed by staff who don't know what they're doing either, too."

"Quite so." Charles paused deliberately. "I have nearly sixty years' experience with my telepathy. Did it occur to you to ask why I still eat and sleep?"

Nathan blinked. "It hadn't... even occurred to me that it was an option for you," he admitted after a moment, but then shook his head, aggravated at himself as he thought about it. Of course it would be.

Charles nodded. "I would like to show you something." His mind reached out, touched Nathan's gently. *Follow me, please.*

Nathan took a deep breath and followed Charles, letting the older man guide the way out onto the astral. It wasn't something they'd done very often in their earlier sessions - the focus then had been mostly on getting his shields in order - but he did his best to concentrate, to remember what Charles had told him about this form of 'travel'.

The two men came to rest in a universe of light. A short distance away, New York City blazed, a beehive of solar flares that, when examined more closely, resolved into universes themselves--the inner life and potential of each and every person in the great metropolis. Other lights, further off, marked other cities: Montreal, Boston, Washington. Even the space between was filled with light; the smaller towns, villages, commuters on the highway, airplanes in the sky, ships at sea. Each one infinite; each infinitely precious.

*Fourteen million souls in New England alone,* Charles said, smiling. *This is how I see the world, if I choose to look. Would that I could share this vision with everyone; there is more beauty in the world than anyone can comprehend.* His gaze sharpened. *And certainly more than enough energy to sustain a single life.*

And he had thought the impact of the Askani was something. *But it doesn't work that way, does it,* Nathan sent back, his mental 'voice' subdued. Why hadn't he thought this through? He was supposed to be good at strategy, at logic.

*No, it doesn't.* Charles' sending was calm. *I, too, once thought it did. When I was a young man, I opened myself to all of this; let it fill me until I could hold no more, and for a time, as you found, it did sustain me. But only for a time. Would you like to see what would have happened to you if no one had been here to stop you?*

Like was not precisely the word Nathan would have used. *Yes,* he sent back quietly.

Charles' mind reached out to touch Nathan's again, and the blazing infinite sky swirled, faded, and coalesced into a view of the Mansion's front hall. The view shifted, panned around, and a sense of the mind behind the memory filtered through--forceful and opinionated, but in this place and time overlain with a casual happiness: coming home after a journey.

"Charles?" a voice called. It was a man's voice, cultured and slightly accented, German overlain by British. "Charles, where are you? You'll never believe what happen--Charles, where the hell did you go?"

Power surged, and suddenly every piece of metal, every wire in the walls, every electrical impulse in that wire tingled at the edges of perception, bringing with it the sense of a heartbeat, a nervous system, elsewhere in the house. The voice chuckled. "Good God, man, what are you doing in bed at this time of the afternoon?"

The perspective leaped, taking the stairs two at a time, moving purposefully down the hallway, pushing open the door to Charles' rooms with the confidence of long friendship. "Long past time you were--dear God."

On the bed lay a man instantly recognizable as a much younger Charles Xavier--but a Charles Xavier drawn and laid waste, wracked and filthy. His eyes were rolled impossibly far back in his head, and his body twitched and spasmed, shuddering in constant seizure.

"Charles, what hap--" Frustration, anger, and fear welled up in the memory. "You did it, didn't you. You and your bloody Jungian foolishness." A clenched fist, blazing with electric fire, passed through the field of vision in an emphatic gesture that smashed a hole in the floor, nails and wire and plumbing clawing the inanimate wood and stone out of the way; down one floor, then another, Charles' inert body lifting off the bed and following, finally coming to rest in a small basement storage room. Another flickered gesture, and steel plates flew in to line the walls, etching themselves in patterns that cradled the complex circuitry that followed, giving life to a design held whole in a single moment of desperate inspiration.

"This had better work. I reserve the right to kill you myself if you insist on acting the twit, Charles."

Power surged through the walls as questing tendrils of metal found the mansion's electrical system, and Charles collapsed on the floor, a starved, string-cut puppet. The memory faded.

*It was three days before I regained enough of my individual identity to answer to my own name,* Charles sent to Nathan. *Another day in the grip of my power would have pithed my mind, left my body nothing more than a tortured husk.* He paused. *That was two weeks after I began my experiment. Almost to the day.*

Nathan couldn't respond for a moment. The memory had been incredibly vivid, every bit as real to his senses as the ones he experienced through the Askani. *What... were you trying to do?* he managed finally.

*Sustain myself on the psionic energy of New York City. I didn't quite have the reach then that I do now. I'd gotten the idea from my readings on the collective unconscious.* Charles eyed Nathan sternly. *It is the body which sustains the mind. The mind may exist without the body, given sufficient skill, but the mind cannot _sustain_ the body. Not alone. I trust you'll remember that from now on.*

*I will. Believe me, I will,* Nathan sent, a little more fervently than he'd intended. Charles seemed to be satisfied with the answer, and Nathan felt a sense of motion, a tug that drew him back off the astral and to his body. He opened his eyes to the study again, saw Charles sitting behind the desk watching him. "Askani explained," he said quietly, when the older man said nothing. "Precisely what happened, I mean. Apparently they've been shouting at me for the better part of about three days, trying to get me to listen. But all I heard was this buzzing."

"Well, no permanent harm seems to have been done." Charles smiled wryly. "If you'd like to learn to walk before you try sprinting again, I'm certainly available."

"I... would really appreciate that," Nathan said awkwardly. "My shields still aren't what they should be. I think that's been part of the problem this week..."

"Almost certainly. My own shields collapsed at some point during my ordeal, and it was some time before I built them back to full strength." Charles smiled faintly. "Without the nullification chamber, I'm not sure I would have succeeded. Luckily, you don't have nearly as far to go."

Nathan took a deep breath, trying to let go of at least some of the tension. A mistake, he told himself, but not an irreparable one, and it obviously could have been much worse. "I need to focus on thinking these things through a little more carefully," he said, more steadily. "Not reacting instinctively, no matter what instinct it is."

"That would be moving entirely too far in the opposite direction," Charles replied mildly. "Overcaution is just as dangerous as overboldness. You need rather to learn _when_ to trust your instincts, and when to ask for help." He smiled. "All things have their place, and even moderation should be practiced in moderation."

"I will figure this out," Nathan said stubbornly, managing a faint smile. "I may be particularly slow, but I am persistent."

Charles chuckled. "I have noticed, yes. Just remember that while you do need to figure a few things out, you need not do so alone."

Nathan opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it again, still smiling. #Thank you, Charles,# he sent carefully.

Charles' return sending was full of warmth. *You are quite welcome, Nathan. In all senses of the word.*

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x-rahne.livejournal.com

Charles and the collective subconscious was brilliant. And the Erik-flashback. Yeeeep. Very lovely, vivid, humanizing -- and terrifying that their major enemy is the guy who conceives of and builds psi-null circuitry in fifteen seconds of alarm.