Nathan, during Amanda's speech

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As he promised, Nathan watches Amanda's speech.


Nathan sat down on the couch, and promptly dropped the remote. His hands were that unsteady. Sighing harshly, he leaned over and picked it up, turning on the television. CNN was carrying the memorial, of course. No-brainer, that. He just hoped the talking heads would shut up for long enough to let the speeches proceed without interruption.

His gaze flickered nervously to the phone, wondering if he should take Alison's advice and call Moira. Later, he thought. He didn't know how this was going to hit him, watching, and he didn't want to worry her when she was on the other side of the Atlantic and couldn't do anything. Yes. Logic. Logic was good.

As the memorial started, he tried to force himself to pay attention to peripheral details. The crowd shots were good. He could read faces, try and figure out what they were thinking, focus on their reactions to the speeches rather than the speeches themselves.

Because, really, very standard sort of speeches. Like he'd told Amanda, he'd seen these things before. Known what to expect. Even in a situation like this. There was the Local Politician, and the Token Clergy, and the...

Stop, he told himself feverishly, his jaw clenching hard. Just for one minute, stop analyzing. Stop trying to stand at a remove. Stop being such a coward.

So he watched. The faces of the speakers, instead of the faces of the crowds. And he recognized some of them, he realized suddenly, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. Remembered their faces, from that day. Some of them had been running, others trying to hide... the red-haired girl just finishing her speech now had been in that small group of students Morgan had thrown the car at. He remembered her.

He remembered the faces of the dead, too.

His hands were shaking again - although, had they actually stopped? The TV screen kept trying to blur in his vision, images from six months ago overlaid with what he was watching now. He held onto the here-and-now by the skin of his teeth, forcing himself to keep watching. Amanda would be getting up anytime now, surely. And he'd promised.

When she got up, she looked nervous. Hesitant, for a moment - but then determined again, suddenly, as if she'd seen something in the crowd to lend her strength. Nathan took a deep, unsteady breath as she launched into her speech. Good thoughts, he told himself. He'd promised her good thoughts.

He had to smile, when she levitated the cup to prove she was a mutant. It was smoothly done, not even the slightest wobble. "That's my girl," he murmured.

She continued with her speech, ignoring the hecklers, to talk about Brighton and tolerance with a passion that didn't surprise him, and an eloquence that did, just a little. His smile lingered, growing a little. He could hear the response from the crowd, people actually shouting down the hecklers.

It was going to be okay, he thought, letting the air in his lungs out on a sigh. She was going to be okay. And it was turning into one hell of a speech.

"Yes," Amanda said on the television, after stopping to take a drink from her floating glass of water, "the people who did this terrible thing six months ago today, they were mutants. But that wasn't why they did what they did."

And Nathan froze.

"They did it 'cause they were full of hate, because they enjoyed hurtin' an' killin' an' destroyin'..."

She hadn't.

She hadn't just...

"...not somethin' that's restricted to mutants, just as it's not restricted to any particular country, or religion, or anythin' else. Adolf Hitler was human, and look what he did..."

No.

"...No-one has the patent out on violence an' hate. It's a choice..."

He didn't hear the rest of the speech. Or the applause. Promise broken, a voice from the back of his mind pointed out angrily, but he was already on his feet and stumbling in the direction of the bathroom, ignoring Bella's agitated cooing and the worried murmur of the Askani at the back of his mind.

Cold water. Cold water splashing on his face, and he didn't know why he was doing that, didn't remember turning the taps on. Trying to wake himself up?

Wake up, Nathan, just a dream... she didn't really say that, didn't mean it that way...

Think.

Think.

Objectively. The message she was trying to get across, what she could and couldn't say...

Think, damn it...

She'd had to say it. Had to...

...how could she have said that?

He'd known.

Right from the beginning, he'd known it would be this, that he'd hear this...

...but from her?

Choice? Where was there any choice in this, any fucking choice for any of us...

He gripped the edge of the sink hard to steady himself, trying to slow his breathing down. Projecting, he was probably projecting all over the place, thank fuck so many of the kids were at the memorial...

Nathan looked up at his own reflection in the mirror. The face that looked back at him was ghost-white, almost gray, with eyes that were so shockingly empty that they didn't even look human.

Rabid wolves and well-trained dogs... His own words to Strange on Saturday came back, and he shook his head slowly.

No difference. None at all. One was the other in the eyes of the world, and it didn't matter. Didn't matter to the dead, didn't matter to the living. Didn't matter except to the dogs in question, and they were lost already, written off...

And that was the way it was.

His breathing slowing, he straightened, reaching out with still-unsteady hands for a towel. He made himself walk back out into the living room and sat down, to watch the rest.