xp_logs | Nathan and Pete, Tuesday afternoon

Backdated to Tuesday. Pete decides it's time that Nathan stops with the pointless if entertaining self-flagellation, and throws logic at him until he surrenders.

Pete found Nate out by the pool, alone, which was a relief. He didn't really want to have this conversation around other people. He lit a cigarette, and took a drag on it, before stepping forward and speaking.

"Right, you. Would it save time if I threw you in the pool right fucking now, or can we skip that, and move right along to dislodging your head from your own arse without the aid of water? I mean, I understand a dunking's something of a tradition, but it's been a pretty busy few days, and I'm just not sure I can be bothered."

Nathan stared at him flatly. He'd sensed Pete approaching, and the particularly purposeful edge to his presence, but as usual, Pete had been guarding his thoughts a little too well for him to passively pick up on what he wanted. And going digging in anyone's mind was even less of a palatable option this week. "We can skip the dunking," he said neutrally, not breaking eye contact. "So what did you and Dom do, flip a coin?"

"Dom decided you looked to pitiful too administer a proper beating to, so since I'm without decent feeling, I said I'd do it. And frankly, the fact that not even the bloody students are fooled by your 'I'm coping, no really I am' act on the journals, I'd say that pitiful was the right word."

Pete sat down a short distance away with a sigh.

"I really don't quite get what's going on in your head. I mean, haven't you killed enough people?"

Nathan kept staring at him, more warily now. He would have known what to expect in a conversation like this from Dom or GW; Pete was another matter entirely. "Now there's a loaded question," he said tightly. "What now? Do you point out that I've caused my fair share of collateral damage over the years, so I should just add forty-six more names to the list and move on?"

"Hadn't thought of that. If it'd help, sure, go ahead and pretend I said that." Pete took another drag on his cigarette.

"No, I'm just trying to work out why it is that you can't tell the difference between your own body count and someone else's. Or why you're so desperate to
claim this lot as yours. I mean, I'm pretty sure you've got enough dead people on your conscience to martyr yourself from now to kingdom come. I can't work out why you need another forty-six that you didn't kill."

"Are they any less dead because of me just because I didn't kill them myself?" Nathan looked back out at the pool, watching the water ripple. "As for martyring myself... I'm not about to fall on the sword Mistra so kindly provided me, Pete." His voice was rising a little, sounding angrier, and he gritted his teeth. No letting the Brit get under his skin. "But I'm also not about to pretend that I don't feel responsible. I gave them the opportunity, they took it. Then I compounded the problem by letting myself get distracted, not paying attention to what was going on around me. If I'd fucking focused instead of doing my best impression of a cornered animal, I could have stopped their little killing spree a lot sooner."

"They ain't dead because of you. They're dead because of fucking Mistra." Pete spat the words out. "You are not fucking responsible for what that shower of cunts did, and there's no fucking way you could have predicted it. And given that they'd blown up your car, and fucked your TK in the ear, I'd love to know what you could have done to stop them sooner."

Nathan didn't answer for a moment, aware suddenly that there was indeed a rather noticeable hole in his logic. He wanted to tell Pete that he would have surrendered right away, instead of fighting... but then, if he hadn't at least killed the antipsi, he wouldn't have had any way to stop them from doing whatever the hell they wanted. Frowning, he rubbed at his still tightly-wrapped wrist, trying to figure out what to say now.

"I should've--" He stopped, his jaw clenching at the uncertain note in his voice. "It's not like they didn't warn me."

Pete raised an eyebrow.

"They warned you that they'd come for you, yeah. But what they did is a complete fucking about face on everything that we could have expected, and if you're beating yourself up for not anticpating it, then you're even stupider than you look. You can sit and play should've could've would've until you're blue in the face, but seriously, tell me, what else could you've done that would've got you and Amanda out of there, and resulted in less death?"

Not been there in the first place, was the answer that sprang immediately to mind, but Nathan didn't let it out, knowing that wasn't what Pete was asking. And he had a point, about Amanda. If he'd surrendered, not fought in the first place, he wouldn't have had any way to make sure she'd gotten out of there...

"Fuck," he muttered, wrestling with it. Logic versus the gut reaction. "Maybe I couldn't have made sure... does that mean I shouldn't have tried? I had to have been the primary objective..."

"What, you think if you'd given in, they'd fucked off? I don't fucking buy that, and I'm willing to bet you don't either. I've watched the TV reports. The little fucks were getting off on it. This was as much about sending a message to everyone else as it was about get you back, and they sent exactly the kind of cunts you need for that."

Another drag on his cigarette.

"And even if they had stopped, what exactly d'you think Mistra are going to do with you if they get you back? Pat you on the head and congratulate you for growing a conscience? They'll do their level best to brainfuck you and send you back out to kill more people, Nate. And that would be your fucking fault."

Nathan shook his head. "I give up," he said, defeated. Pete was just going to keep throwing logic at him whether he liked it or not. Not all that much different from GW after all. "You're right - is that what you wanted to hear me say? I got blindsided but good, and there probably wasn't a whole hell of a lot I could have done one way or
the other." He looked back out at the pool, sick and tired of the conversation. "I can't even figure out what the fuck they were thinking, whoever drew up that op plan. I always had that edge, Pete. I don't even know where to start now that I don't."

"Of course I'm right, but that's not the fucking point. Just figured it'd do you some good to admit it, and maybe stop beating yourself over the head. As for the rest of it, well, we're not done yet. Culley's arriving here on Friday, and I'm going to spend the weekend with him, working out where it's worth looking for intel on them based on what you've given me so far, and he's going to do the legwork. If you're not busy this weekend, we could probably use you and Dom in on it, too." Pete smiled grimly. "Mistra's job one for my shiny new division. Got the sign-off on it this morning."

"Given that I'm apparently not teaching again until I can convince Charles I'm not using it as escapism, I don't foresee me being particularly busy this weekend," Nathan muttered, feeling a bit mutinous at having let Pete manuever him right to the point he'd so obviously been aiming at, even as a wiser part of him pointed out that Pete was right and it was past time that he stopped wallowing. Still work to be done. "I'll be there. And I'll finish that summary for you. Was about at year ten, on Friday..."

"Good. We'll get these bastards, mate. However long it takes, we'll put a fucking end to them." He ground the cigarette out.

Nathan eyed him for a moment, then forced himself to give Pete a faint smile. "Can't have your shiny new division falling flat on its face on its first job, can we?" he asked lightly and left it at that. Pete would have to be confident for both of them.