xp_logs | [Nathan. Paul] It'll be interesting.

That's an understatement.
Oh, this was no fun at all, Nathan thought petulantly, staring up at the ceiling. There were little pad-things stuck to his head and machines all around him making various irritating noises. He was beginning to feel vaguely claustrophobic. Plus, Moira had threatened to strap him down if he didn't stay still, and he was feeling more than vaguely persecuted.

"Well, don't you look pretty." Paul walked over to stand in Nathan's line of vision and leaned on one of the machines, grinning at him. "I see you rate the machine that goes ping."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. The pad-thing stuck to his forehead shifted, and one of the machines let out a warning chirp. "You're making fun," he scolded.

"Hardly. No making faces." He looked around and grabbed an office chair, wheeling it over to the bed. "How are you?" He sat down where Nathan could see him easily.

"Bored. Stiff. I mean that literally, not figuratively." Nathan smiled as Paul stayed where he could see him. "You? Your resemblance to Dobby is fading by the day, I swear..."

"Is it? Would you believe I haven't looked in a mirror yet?" He held up a book. "Moira said you'd been reading this. I figured if all else failed I could read to you for a while."

It was the book on Chechnya he'd picked for the course, 'Allah's Mountains'. "You might find that interesting, actually," Nathan said cheerfully. "The author traveled with the Chechen guerillas. Given that I did the same thing on more than one occasion, I can say with some authority that he's being fairly accurate."

"Well, I'll make sure to read it then," Paul said. "In all my spare time." He sighed heavily and slouched in the chair. "You know, one has far less free time for reading when one is no longer hopping from continent to continent. I'm going to become illiterate."

"You make the time to read," Nathan said firmly, the bibliophile in him sitting up and protesting loudly. "Although I suspect my habit of walking down the halls with book in hand would have resulted in much more personal injury if I wasn't telepathic."

"You're very cute when you're pedantic." Paul settled back in the chair and paged through the book. "All serious, verging on Giles-like. It'll be fun to sit in on your classes. I feel behind. It's not like I haven't been paying attention. I have been, but everything's been coloured by why I"ve been doing the last ten-some years."

"Giles... oh, the librarian from that Buffy show. Dom likes that. Ran around with a stake giggling and calling it Mr. Pointy for the better part of a month once." One of the machines gave something that was closer to a squeal, and Nathan sighed. "One second," he said, concentrating on the set of weights over on the table by the wall. He levitated the five-pound one, held it until the machine squealed at him again, twice this time, and then lowered it back to the table. "Sorry - have to do that at regular intervals."

"So, what's this all about? Moira just told me that you'd be down here bored." Paul watched the process with interest.

"Testing the TK. The monitors are there to watch out for swelling or bleeding." He smiled wryly. "I have my second CAT scan of the day in - well, about an hour if my internal clock hasn't been screwed up by the boredom."

"Watching for swelling or bleeding. I approve," Paul said firmly. "Your brains are good where they are. So, you can talk about anything, as long as you don't move?"

"Sure," Nathan said cheerfully. Talking was good. Talk would keep him from going crazy. "Anything particular in mind?"

"Tell me about Moira," Paul said, making himself comfortable. "She took good care of me while I was here, but we didn't get to talk much. How'd you meet her?"

Nathan blinked. Well, that was an unexpected question. "She saved my life," he said, the standard answer, but then went on to elaborate. "The last mission I ran for Mistra was an assault on a bioweapons facility in China. Huge intelligence failure, and only two of us got out of there. We didn't know at the time that we'd been infected by one of the viruses they were working on. It's not like we intended to have a firefight in that lab, but it was sort of unavoidable." Nathan tried very hard not to shift on the bed. "Dawn died the next day. I don't know whether I got a smaller dose or what, but I lasted long enough for them to bring me to Muir for treatment. That's where I met Moira."

Paul nodded, taking it all in. "Muir's an impressive facility," he said slowly. "And Moira is known for being good at what she does. You were lucky someone knew to take you there. That had to have been years back, wasn't it?"

"Seven years." Nathan stared up at the ceiling. "She saved more than my life, really," he murmured. "I came back about a year later - " Glossing over all kinds of things there, Dayspring, " - and it turned out she needed me as much then as I'd needed her the year before."

Paul put his chin in his hand, listening, and part of him longing a bit for that kind of synchronicity. "So you got a turn to be there for her."

"There was a whole lot of screaming and yelling and falling in the ocean, but yeah. Worked out pretty well in the end." He gave a sigh that was half-rueful, half-amused. "The pair of us, though... so stubborn. I totaled it up a while ago, and we've actually spent the better part of a year and half together over the last seven years. You'd think that when we were together for months at a time we would have gotten our act together sooner than this."

Paul laughed quietly and shook his head. "I told her the two of you had the market cornered on stubbornness. At least you figured it out while you still have time, right?"

The machine squealed again, and Nathan obediently levitated the ten-pound weight. "Ow," he muttered at the twinge of pain behind his eyes, but still managed to hold it until the double-squeal, although it hit the table a litle more heavily. "But yes," he continued more briskly, blinking rapidly as his vision doubled for an instant. "Plenty of time. Although I am plotting. I'm very impatient, you know."

Paul looked worried about the pain and leaned forward. "You're sure this is okay for you? And what are you plotting?

"Hey, this is something Hank and Moira came up with. I'm sure if any of their monitors start tweeting at them they'll be in here in a flash telling me to knock it off." Nathan smiled up at the ceiling, his eyes watering a little. "As for plotting... I'm going to make a spectacle of myself at some point in the not too distant future."

"Well... by the time your nose is bleeding it's too late," Paul chided. "You already overdid. And what kind of spectacle? Because, you know, you already do some of the time."

"There's this thing," Nathan said with a certain amount of glee. "I know damned well that when I propose to her she's going to say yes, but I have to make up for the lack of uncertainty with spectacle. And I think some quality embarassing-myself-in-front-of-the-kids is called for. If I don't give them gossip fodder for at least a month, I won't have been trying hard enough."

Paul laughed at Nathan, shaking his head. "You're a sentimental idiot, Dayspring," he said, his voice full of affection. "You'll warn me in advance, so I can bring a video camera?"

"Oh, you bet. And I can't help myself, about the sentimental idiot part..." He smiled up at the ceiling. "She brings out the best in me," he said more quietly.

"It's good to see," Paul said, enjoying the slightly goofy smile on Nathan's face. "There's not a lot of people who can really say it and it's not just sentiment. As I've said; you're high-maintenance, my friend. You're beyond lucky to have found someone tough enough to handle you."

"Tell me about it," Nathan said, letting his eyes shift over to Paul from the ceiling. "You're sure you don't have anything better to be doing this afternoon than keeping me company?" The machine squealed again, and Nathan reached out for the twenty-pound weight - and dropped it immediately. "No," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, "don't think I'll be doing one." The machine hooted at him, sounding almost like Bella.

Paul grinned. "Good boy. And no. Sitting here makes it look like I'm not just sitting around because I'm too tired to do more. It was wise of you not to bring Bella down here. Can you imagine?"

"She would have been running around pulling out wires. I may have been cheering her on, and Moira and Hank would have had to sedate me. Hell, as it was, they threatened me with the restraints." He could hear the unmistakable noise of the heart monitor, and kept his eyes closed. "Wish they'd turn that thing off," he muttered. "Reminds me of being down here that night..."

"What night?" Paul said quietly, leaning back in the chair and listening.

"After the art exhibit," Nathan said, staring up at the ceiling again. "The heart monitor was what triggered the sedative drip. They didn't want me getting too excited and breaking free. And Betsy was sitting over in the corner keeping an eye on me."

"Right. But you're not there right now," Paul said simply. "You're here with me, and I'm here because Hank's being busy and I feel guilty for sitting around while he moves things and I get in trouble when I try and help."

"Right," Nathan echoed after a moment, pulling his thoughts back onto the right track and not that less-than-productive downwards one. The machine squealed at him, and he lifted the ten-ounce weight. "Back to the beginning," he explained to Paul. "If I miss one I start the series over again."

"Sounds familiar. Endurance testing but with your brain instead of your muscles." Paul slid the chair over a little so he could prop his feet on a low machine that looked like an over-ambitious subwoofer. "How long will this take?"

"Depends on the results of the next CAT scan. Moira promised only one more round after this, though, even if they don't like what they see. So... anywhere from another hour to another four." Nathan smiled wryly. "On the bright side, I'll sleep well tonight."

"Oh, because if we were waiting for your nose to bleed, I could hit you and we could go to Harry's," Paul offered helpfully, grinning.

Nathan grinned. "Don't make me laugh, or she'll make me start all over again. And then I'd have to hit you."

"And I'd have to hit you back and then... we'd probably get in trouble," Paul said, looking dramatically downcast. "So no laughing? Damn. Good thing I didn't bring Hello Kitty down."

"That would have been bad, yes," Nathan said severely. "She brings out the giggling idiot in me." Another squeal, and Nathan levitated the next weight up. "Assuming I pass this, which I fully intend to do," he went on, "I'm told I get my access to the Danger Room back. Which they actually took away, can you believe that?"

"Hah. I still have mine," Paul said smugly. "They just don't trust you not to hurt yourself. I wonder why."

Nathan grimaced a little. "I may have gotten something of a lecture from Scott on the subject, yes." He smiled a bit, wryly. "He lectures very well, you know. I was feeling all twelve and ashamed of myself."

"Hmm. I haven't had a good lecturing in a while..." He grinned wickedly at Nathan. "But. The subject at hand. The Danger Room, where I promised Paige and Shinobi I'd put them through their paces this weekend. How'd you like to help - without hurting yourself, you're not allowed to do that."

Nathan brightened. "That sounds like fun," he said. "Shinobi and I were supposed to be training together anyway. As for Paige..." He smiled again. "I'd be interested to see what she can do with her power in a training scenario."

"All we're doing is the programming and observing, old man," Paul warned. "I think we can give the two of them a good challenge. I'm still a little worried about Shinobi for a few reasons, I want to keep an eye on his confidence in the field."

"Shinobi," Nathan said thoughtfully, staring up at the ceiling. "You too, huh?"

"Yes. We talked this morning when we were out inspecting the property we're renting for the party we decided to throw." Paul ran his fingers through his hair. "I've got concerns about him overall, I just want to watch him for the next little while and see before I talk to Scott."

"The way he's been talking about what happened in that warehouse worries me." Nathan was silent for a moment. "He doesn't have quite as much to work on as I do, I think, but there's still a lot there."

"It's not just that," Paul said, thinking hard. "He doesn't trust himself on a lot of levels. Morally, ethically, practically... he's had his confidence shaken a lot in the last little while, it'd seem, and that's not going to do him any good in the field. It's a downward spiral."

"Well, hurray for upward yanking, then," Nathan said, then snorted softly at himself. "Forget I said that. But it's something that can be helped, right?"

"I'm sure of it," Paul said firmly. "We just need to stay on top of it. So, the four of us to the Danger Room this evening, perhaps?"

"I would nod, but Moira would be in here like a shot breaking something over my head." Nathan smiled slightly. "So, yeah. I think I can manage to sit in the control booth and help you program, even if I have to go on for a third round of this."

"I'll email the kids. I can't do it from in here, or Moira will be breaking things over MY head, with the interference." Paul looked around to see if Moira were lurking anywhere. "She's a little scary when she's cross."

"Beautiful, though," Nathan said with a beatific smile.

"If I didn't like you both so much, I'd be nauseous," Paul teased.

"We live to help everyone explore their gag reflex," Nathan said with a perfectly straight face. "But seriously, while we're on the subject of the Danger Room... could you and I set up something regular, once I'm cleared to go back?"

"Of course. How often and when?"

"Couple of times a week?" Nathan suggested. "And, um, well. My classes are all afternoon, and... my mornings seem to have been freed up." He blinked up at Paul a bit sheepishly. "Charles had the decency not to laugh at me for having dragged things out with Manuel as long as I did. Apparently he was prepared to give me another couple of weeks to figure it out on my own before he took steps."

Paul was silent for a moment, then he reached over and squeezed Nathan's arm gently. "Good for you, Nate."

"Not the easiest thing I've ever done," Nathan said quietly, with another faint smile, "but I can't argue with how I felt when I woke up this morning. Or how I'm going to feel when I wake up on Tuesday and don't have to avoid breakfast."

"I wasn't sure you'd do it. I was afraid you wouldn't," Paul said honestly. "But, now that you did... let's get you trained up for the team. Two mornings a week to start? Monday and Wednesday?" He was relieved, pleased, and proud all at once, and it startled him. He hadn't realized he'd been invested.

"Sounds good. Thank you," Nathan said seriously, looking up at him. The machine squealed again, and he lifted the next weight. "I'm not sure where to start, though. Hoping you have some ideas?"

"I have a few ideas, in and out of the Danger Room," Paul said, leaning back in the chair. He was quite happy that he'd managed to keep the idea he had in his head Thursday in there long enough to look it up when he was awake enough to do so. "I think we'll start in the Room running some basic urban scenarios, you and I, and anyone else we can snag to come in with us. No casualty allowance, no collateral damage."

"Sounds good," Nathan said again, thinking about the possibilities, the challenges. "I need to start breaking some of my thinking patterns when it comes to things like that."

"As for out of the Room. Well, we can talk about that," Paul said a little cryptically.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. The machine gave a warning chirp and he sighed at it. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you... and that sound vaguely ominous, Paul," he said with a faint smile.

"Maybe I should tell you where you have to lie still, so I can get a running start if you really don't like it." Paul leaned forward, elbows on knees.

Nathan smiled again at Paul's suggestion, but looked up at him more seriously. "I trust your judgement," he said.

Damnit, what was it with people trusting him around here? They kept doing it. "Well, funny you should mention trust. Because I'm going to propose an exercise just for that. Do you trust me enough to agree to it before you hear it?"

Nathan blinked, gave it a moment's thought. "Yes," he said finally. "Otherwise I sort of flunk myself before I even start, don't I?"

"I'm going to talk to Hank and Moira about fitting you with a damper for your TK," Paul said quietly. "And then you're going to spend a day in it, blindfolded, while the rest of the team takes you from task to task, each of us taking turns. I'll be asking for volunteers to help and to plan your day. You'll be in our hands for twelve hours, eight to eight, and then we'll take you out to Harry's and hang out together, if you're still up to it."

Nathan's eyes widened a little. "Oh," was all he could manage for a moment. "That'll... be a challenge."

"That's the point. I'm not sure anything less would do you justice, Nate." Paul put his hand on Nathan's arm again, lightly. "It came to me while we were climbing. I don't want to push you too far, but I know you, and too far is where you already live most of the time."

Nathan tried to think about it - to approach it intellectually, rather than let the gut reaction to the idea take over. "Two birds with one stone," he finally said, a bit vaguely. Okay, so he wasn't doing quite as well as suppressing the gut reaction as he should. "A trust exercise that'll make me deal with my dampener-phobia, too."

"Moira won't let anything go wrong," Paul said firmly. "Neither will I. I promise, and if she wants to kick my ass for this idea, that's fair enough. Okay?"

"Yeah." Nathan was silent for another long moment. "I suppose the fact that the idea of being that out of control terrifies me is a very good reason to do this."

"And Nate?"

"What?"

"You can take them off any time you want," Paul said gently. "No questions asked."

Nathan answered with one of those indeterminate monosyllabic noises that could mean anything and generally pissed Moira right off. "It'll be interesting," he said, and levitated another weight as the machine squealed at him.

"That's an understatement," Paul said, amused at the noncommittal noise. "I'll talk to Moira and Hank about it soon."

His head was aching. Not a lot, but enough to bother him, and he raised a hand to rub his eyes, careful not to dislodge any of the sensors. "Evil, the pair of them," he muttered. "Watch, they'll come up with all kinds of twists that didn't even occur to you."

"I'm counting on it," Paul retorted, watching Nathan closely, not liking the pain in his expression.

The machine squealed again, and Nathan grimaced. "Changing the intervals on me," he muttered, and levitated the next weight. His vision doubled again, and he sighed. "If Moira doesn't get in here and haul me off for that CAT scan soon I'm going to start throwing these at the wall."

"Easy." Paul rubbed his arm soothingly. "Want me to go tell her you're getting baked?" This kind of examination was one of his least favourite things in the world, too, coming fairly soon after being locked in small, dark, airless boxes.

"I think she probably knows," Nathan murmured, closing his eyes. "Link and all. I'll be okay. Wouldn't mind hearing some more of that book, though."

"Okay." Paul settled back, still frowning. He opened the book to the marker in it. "Just breathe," he said, before he started to read.

Nate's down getting some tests run in medlab; Paul finds out and comes to keep him company, just returning the favour Nate did him while he was stuck down there. They talk for a while about Moira and then training. Paul proposes an unusual "training" exercise that Nate may regret agreeing to before all's said and done.