xp_logs | Nathan and Paul, Monday morning

After sleeping off the weekend in California, Nathan knocks on Paul's door - in the telepathic sense - when he finds out about Aurora.

Paul stood in the doorway of his room, watching his sister lying on the bed giggling at the computer game he'd downloaded for her. It was a simple one, a pony game that involved grooming a pastel-tinted pony and feeding it candy and apples and pizza and juice boxes. Of course, his bed was littered with candy wrappers and empty juice boxes and Aurora was eating pizza too. Of course. Paul leaned his forehead on the doorframe, feeling the cool wood on his skin, resisting the urge to slam his head against it a few times to straighten out the world. He wondered if she could sense his frustration but she only fed her pony a piece of pizza and held her own piece up to the screen to pretend to share. She was busy enough that he could slip out to the kitchen, maybe. Maybe get a cup of tea alone.

Down the hall, Nathan hit send on the email to Jack and then turned off the laptop. He sat there at the desk for a long moment, his mind running over what he'd written - and then letting it go. He and Jack could talk about it all tomorrow.

Right now, he had something else to do. Taking a deep, slightly unsteady breath - he couldn't quite believe he was doing it this way, but he really wasn't sure about knocking on the door in the literal sense - Nathan thinned out his shields and reached out with his mind, finding Paul's thoughts easily.

He brushed against them lightly, tentatively, just to catch his friend's attention. #Paul?# he sent gently and then backed off, waiting for him to either make the next move, whether it was to answer or not.

Paul was putting the kettle on when he heard Nathan's voice and he startled, then realized where it was coming from. #Nate.# His thoughts were coloured with tension and exhaustion. #What the...? Are you okay?# He was confused about the contact, curious now and worried again on top of his previous concerns.

#Funny,# Nathan said, keeping the contact light, so that Paul could break it anytime he wanted. He really wasn't sure he was doing the right thing here, intruding like this. #I was going to ask you the same question. I just didn't want to knock on your door...#

#Oh. Yeah, good plan. She's happy right now.# ...and anything could set her off. Paul went about getting the teapot out and filling it with hot water to warm it, an automatic series of events. #Your trip?#

#Good,# Nathan said, too busy noticing that Paul hadn't answered his question to realize that he was projecting, letting a few stray images of the cemetery slip. #I'd ask how your weekend was, but... well. Is there anything I can do?#

Paul let the images drift over him, filing them away. He leaned against the cupboards, collecting himself. #Monday already?# He hadn't slept. He hadn't wanted her to get up and slip away from him in the night. #Not much. I don't know how long it'll take for her to get back to normal. Or if she ever will.# Aurora's light, piping, child-voice drifted out of his room and Paul got another juice box out of the fridge and brought it to her. #I have faith in her, though.#

Light contact or not, it was enough to let him see through Paul's eyes, and Nathan watched, careful to avoid any contact with Aurora's thoughts. #Monday morning,# he confirmed gently, wincing inwardly at the fatigue and stress he could sense in Paul's mind. #She's here, with you, where you can help her,# he sent after a moment. #It's a first step.#

#I didn't know. You don't under... maybe you do. I used to be able to feel her.# The grief was almost tangible. #She changed it so I couldn't, so we couldn't. So we'd be separate forever. She called and I couldn't hear.# He kissed his sister's forehead and left her playing her game as the kettle whistled.

Nathan was silent for a moment, lingering in contact with Paul's mind but uncertain, suddenly so uncertain of how to respond... #But she's here, Paul,# he sent finally, and the uncertainty started to fade, replaced by a calm conviction that was still nevertheless edged in sadness. #Safe. With you. Wherever she's been, whatever happened... the path brought her back to where you could reach her. And now you have nothing but time.#

The conviction was comforting, like a shoulder he could lean on. Paul poured boiling water into the teapot and watched the leaves swirl like a storm had caught them. #You're right. She's here and I'm here and that's all that matters.# As much as he wanted to sit down and cry, or rail against the foibles of the universe, Paul knew Nathan was right. Nate had lost so much that it wasn't a platitude coming from him. #Thanks.# Visions of other cemetaries flickered through Paul's head, his own hands brushing away leaf litter or snow to reveal the names. Beaubier. Martin. Belmonde. So many, and none of them hers. That was all that mattered.

Nathan weighed the way Paul's thoughts shifted, listening carefully without probing. #I should let you get back to her,# he finally sent, softly. #But I'm here if you need me. Whatever you need, Paul, I mean that. Moira wanted me to tell you that she is, too.#

Paul began to shrug it off, to brush it aside. Something in him - lonely, tight, and brittle - began to crumble in the face of the facts. Instead of pushing Nathan away and wrapping himself back up in his winding cloths of pride and distance and arrogance, he let them drop. Hands on the counter to brace himself, forehead against the cupboards, he closed his eyes and let go. #Thank you.# Frightened and broken down and lonely, he reached back with gratitude and uncertainty, accepting the offer. #I believe you. I'll call you if I need anything from either of you.#

#I'll... keep an ear out,# Nathan said, unable to quite hide how affected he was by Paul's expression of trust. Telepathy had distinct disadvantages when it came to putting a facade on things. #Just call. I'll hear.#

#I will. Thanks, Nate.# Paul took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and reached for a mug. Tea. He rubbed the back of his hand across his cheeks unconsciously. Tea sorted everything out.