xp_logs | Nathan and Jack Leary, Tuesday afternoon

Nathan's therapist arrives on Tuesday afternoon to sit down for a nice, long chat. (OOC: Thanks to Rossi for socking Jack for me!)

"Sorry about the mess," Nathan said, waving a hand at the boxes still strewn here and there around the new living room. "We had... uh, kind of a busy weekend." Jack raised an eyebrow as he sat down in one of the chairs that wasn't covered in anything, and Nathan shrugged. "One of the students tried to blow himself up. Considering that his powers make him the equivalent of a nuclear bomb, we had... some difficulties." He paused, looking arond the kitchenette a bit helplessly. "No coffee," he muttered. "I forgot. Can I get you anything else?"

"I'm fine, Nathan. Really. Relax, before you vibrate yourself to death or something." Jack waited until Nathan had at least approached a chair before continuing. "Sounds like you haven't had much chance to catch your breath. The student all right?"

"He'll be fine." Sitting. Sitting was good. "Actually, he's in better shape than those of us who went out after him," he went on, sinking down into the chair. "Immune to his own radiation. Paul wasn't so lucky, though." Nathan grimaced. "I should have been able to catch the plane and Shiro both," he muttered. "Then Paul wouldn't have had to fly out to get him."

"I see the sense of guilt is still there," Jack said wryly. "Nathan, think about it rationally. You've been through hell and back in the last week. You've only just started the physical recovery, let alone the psychological. Do you really think you could have done any better than you did?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Probably not," he sighed. Almost certainly not, whatever Haroun had said. "Doesn't make it any better to see my friend down in the medlab sick as a dog." He took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over the face. "I did catch the jet, though," he said, a little more calmly. "I was so tense when we were taking off... wasn't sure I should be there, whether or not I'd be able to do what needed to be done. But then the blast went off and I just... did it. Without thinking."

"Instincts come in handy, sometimes," Jack observed. "And it's difficult to accept limits, especially in the face of people needing us, but there it is. Regret is perfectly acceptable - beating yourself up because you believe you failed is not."

"I'm not. Not really," Nathan protested a bit lamely when Jack eyed him. "I wish... well, regrets, like you said." He sighed, though, thinking about the landing and Haroun's reaction. "I suppose we're getting off-track, though. We were supposed to be talking about what happened with Mistra, weren't we?"

"Normally I'd call you on changing the subject like that, but I'll let it slide this once. Mainly because Mistra is the real problem here." Jack leaned back in his chair, trying to give Nathan space. "Where did you want to start? That email of yours was rather... all over the place. Even if you discount the naps."

"I still--" The clench of fear in his chest was like someone had closed a fist around his heart, and Nathan swallowed, with effort. "I haven't told anyone--" Although Moira might have guessed. "--but I'm still not sure where I am when I wake up." He waved a hand around at the new rooms. "Been worse since we moved in here, too. And I keep expecting to blink and be back there. I can't stop wandering around, because I can't stand the idea of sitting in one place for too long and having the walls change." He was sounding a little on the hysterical side, he could hear it, and he struggled for composure. "Everyone thinks I'm pulling myself together, and I am, most of the time, but..."

"...But sometimes it's too much?" Jack finished. "There's no set time limit on recovery from trauma, Nathan, especially with the amount you suffered. And, considering the amount of time you've had this dogging your heels, I'm not surprised you're finding freedom a little hard to accept." Jack's tone was calm, reasonable, but not detached. "I hate to sound cliched, but there's no quick fix. The important part is that you allow yourself the time to recover, acknowledge it will take a while. That it has to happen in your own time, not anyone else's."

His hands were shaking, and Nathan shook his head, rubbing at his still-bandaged wrist. "I'm starting to remember more," he said, his voice very low. "They had me pretty drugged, while I was there. But bits and pieces are coming back... even the things that I know aren't really. Images they threw at me to get through my shields." He took a deep, unsteady breath, furious at himself when his eyes stung. "It was the kids. They made me see the kids there, at Mistra, in training..."

"They hit you at your weak points." Jack's expression was compassion, but a hint of anger lurked there. "They knew your connection to the kids was one of them, and they hit you there. It doesn't mean it happened, or will happen. The kids are safe here, you know that."

"I know," Nathan said, his voice uneven. "I do." He concentrated on breathing for a moment, on not losing it. "None of them got hurt. I keep telling myself that. I kept thinking about that, though... when they had me down there in the medlab, before my conditioning got broken. I knew if I got free I'd go through anyone to get out, and I c-couldn't..." He swallowed again, his vision blurring as he stared at the book-piled coffee table. "I kept asking them to let me go. So that I wouldn't do that."

"Moira told me." Jack was quiet for a long moment, then said, slowly: "Every soldier has some degree of... programming, as it were. Certain mindsets instilled in them to make them better soldiers, to allow them to kill when they must, obey orders... Mistra took that, and extended it to the nth degree. They rewrote parts of your brain, denied you the ability to make a choice about your actions. _They_ are the ones responsible, not you. You can keep running worst-case scenarios in your head until you drive yourself crazy, but it doesn't change the fact that you did everything you could to not harm anyone, even while your brain had effectively been hardwired to obey their orders. To me, that's something to be proud of, not punish yourself for."

"Proud?" Those were tears, sliding down his cheeks, but he let them, too tired suddenly to keep the act up. This was Jack, after all. He wasn't supposed to have to, with him. "I don't think I've got any pride left, Jack. I did everything I could, I fought as hard as I could... but I still gave up." He rubbed at his eyes, his hands shaking. "I tried to get one of the only people in the world who knows me, who really knows me and still considers me a friend, to kill me. That was what it came down to, in the end... and I don't think I'm ever going to be able to forgive myself for doing that to him."

"You were instructed to kill Charles. You didn't. You could have injured any number of bystanders, including the students, and you didn't. You felt you were backed into a corner and there was only one option left available to you in order to prevent you harming those close to you - I'm not condoning suicide, Nathan, but I can see why you'd even consider it. Desperation leads us to desperate actions." There was a box of Kleenex by his chair, and Jack pushed it over to Nathan. "You had all the control taken away from you, leaving you with very few options. You made as much use of those options as you possibly could, until you only had one left." He waited until Nathan had regained a little of his composure before going on. "This friend, have you spoken to him about this yet?"

"Not really," Nathan said hoarsely, pulling out a couple of kleenex. "And I know," he went on, mustering a very weak smile. "Not a good idea. But I just... what do you say? Sorry? I don't even know what I'd be apologizing for..." He took another deep, shaky breath. "You sound like Moira, or someone, gave you most of the basics. Do you know they were going to kill me?"

"Well, it helps to know what's happened before embarking on a session like this. And sometimes the person themselves is not the best source of straight facts." Jack shrugged an apology. "Moira filled me in on most, and Charles the rest. I wasn't going behind your back, just needed to know what the hell we were dealing with here." He frowned. "And you're right about talking to your friend, you should. It's probably not doing him any good right now, either, not being able to sort things out with you. But that's up to you. Tell me more about this killing business? Who was going to kill you?"

"It doesn't matter. How you found out - I would have told you, anyway," Nathan said. "And it was the people who told me they were helping me. MacInnis and... Kritzer, Charles and Moira said her name was. From back in May?" Nathan realized he was shredding the kleenex, unthinkingly, and made himself stop. "That's what it was all about. They didn't want to help me, they just wanted to use me. My conditioning's not gone out of the kindness of their hearts - they were going to set me off, use my telepathy to do the same for all the others. And that would have killed me." Leave the kleenex alone, Nathan. "Kritzer told Charles it was only fair. Because of all the other operatives I'd killed over the years. That I owed it to the rest of them."

"Bullshit," Jack said frankly. "Manipulative crap designed to get her way. You owe them nothing, Nathan. Not a damn thing."

"They had kids there." Nathan stared down at his hands. "Trying the first-generation conditioning again. I didn't see them, but they told me they were there." He looked up at Jack, unable to keep the anguish out of his voice, off his face. "I wouldn't have done it," he said, his voice breaking. "Even for them. I would have fought to get them out, if I'd had the chance, but I wouldn't have walked in there and died for them. And I don't..." His throat closed and he shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut. "When is it enough?" he forced out. "When do you lose enough, when can you say 'No, I'm done'..."

"Nathan? It's enough. You've lost more than anyone possibly should ever have to contemplate in one lifetime, and believe me, it's enough. There will be other ways of stopping these people. Believe me, the number of people they've damaged, the attention they've brought to themselves, they can't possibly continue the way they have been." Jack leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and looking at Nathan intently. "You're not responsible for the ills of the world, Nathan, not even this particular branch. It hurts, I know, knowing that you could have stopped it, but not at that price. You have every right to want to live, to have a normal life. And they do not have the right to demand that of you."

Nathan let his head rest in his hands for a moment. "I'm just so tired," he said, his voice hollow, still wavering. "Even without Charles' damned snooze button. Then all the stuff this weekend... it's not just me thinking I should have done more. I couldn't hack it in the crunch, and now I'm wondering whether I'm going to be able to..."

"Time, Nathan. It's going to take time. There are no easy fixes, remember? And even tough guys like ourselves have to give ourselves healing time. You wouldn't expect someone to bounce back a week after taking a bullet, would you? So why expect it of yourself?" Jack rested his hand briefly on Nathan's shoulder. "You're tired because your mind needs rest, same as your body does when you're physically injured. Give yourself that. And if this place won't let you do that, then maybe another vacation is in order."

Nathan took another shaky breath. "I do feel better," he said after a moment. "Or I was, before this weekend." He managed a faint smile. "Back in the saddle too fast, maybe," he said more quietly. "There just... didn't really seem to be an option at the time."

"That's the problem with this place - one disaster after another. But remember, there are other people around who can deal with things. You don't have to take it all on yourself." Jack repressed the urge to waggle his finger at Nathan. "And there are always options, you just have to let yourself find them."

"I do fall prey to a certain lack of imagination at times," Nathan said almost wryly. He rubbed his eyes again, then straightened in his chair, taking another deep breath, steadier this time. "It's hard to let go," he said. "To trust others to take care of things. That's... what else I kept telling them, when they had me in the medlab last Thursday night. That they'd lied to me, that I never should have trusted them."

"Old habits are the hardest to break, and you've not been able to trust anyone for a very long time. But that doesn't mean you don't keep trying," Jack said. He paused, then went on: "And now? Do you still feel that way? That they failed you?"

Nathan's eyes dropped to the floor in front of the chair. "It's wrong to feel that way," he said very quietly. "I know that. After all they did to get me back..." He shook his head. "I've got to get that out of my head," he whispered.

"They didn't lie, no, but in a way, they did fail to keep their word. They made a promise no-one could possibly keep, and thus set themselves up for failure. No-one is ever completely safe, not from everything, no matter how hard we try, things will always happen." Jack's tone was firm. "Trust is a good thing, but like everything, in degrees. If you trust someone to prevent all trouble in your life, then ultimately that person will fail, and you'll feel betrayed. It's only natural. Charles and the rest of the people here want to help you, can help you... but they can't stop everything. But that's not a reason to stop trusting them, any more than it's a reason to flagellate yourself because you feel resentful that they couldn't prevent what happened. Only one group of people are responsible for that." He saw the doubt on Nathan's face. "You couldn't stop this whole disppearance business with the children, could you? So does that make you untrustworthy?"

"I see the point," Nathan said after a moment. "I do. I just don't know how to stop... pulling away when they offer help." He thought of Haroun and that conversation in the quarry, and shook his head. "It's really perverse, you know. Someone reaches out a hand to me, and I want to take it, I do... but I want to slap it away almost as much." He gave a quiet, rattled-sounding laugh. "I don't like being so inconsistent."

"None of us do, which is why the psychiatric profession is such a profitable one. Inconsistency is part of the human condition, I'm afraid..." Jack shrugged. "Its something we can work on, but in the end it's that time thing again. You can't be expected to change the mindset of a lifetime in a week, broken conditioning regardless."

"Time," Nathan said almost drearily. "I just want to teach my classes, if you can believe that? Teach the classes, help Moira redecorate the new place here... play with my TK a little." His eyes stung again as he gave Jack a small, tight smile. "I was experimenting, before... well, before. Never thought of the artistic applications before, and it felt... good. To create something."

"And there's no reason why you can't have that. Especially now." Jack smiled. "It's allowed, Nathan. To have a life, especially one you enjoy. And you'll get that time, if you allow yourself."

It's allowed. Two very simple words, but strangely soothing. Freeing. "Charles told me that when he went into my mind, afterwards, I was the one who decided to come back out," Nathan said quietly. "It's something to start with, at least." Another smile tugged at his lips, almost a natural one this time, if tired. "I am, however, going to need help. There; I said it."

"Duly noted," Jack said with another smile of his own. "And help is here, whenever you need it." He stretched a little. "So, now we've reached that particular epiphany, what say you to a break and some coffee? Ready to brave the kitchen?"