xp_logs | Nathan and Morgan and Madelyn, Wednesday night

The second time he wakes up, Nathan senses Morgan doing the same. He alerts Madelyn, and the two of them Approach With Caution. Tim does not, thankfully, rip the medlab apart around them. (Hurray for sprained brains!) Madelyn gives the two telekinetics some time alone, and they get a chance to say a few of the many things that need saying.

He had been sleeping, if restlessly, the killer headache and the flickers of memory from the fight in the snow preventing him from finding any sort of happy oblivion. But something tugged him back towards full consciousness, a nagging, edgy whisper in his mind. Nathan opened his eyes, blinking up at the medlab ceiling, and tried to focus.

It only took him a moment to realize. As soon as he did, he sat up, biting his lip hard at the way the room tried to spin around him, and slid carefully off the bed, tottering in the direction of the door. He went right down to the hall, looking for - there Madelyn was, putting away supplies.

"Maddie," he said hoarsely. "He's waking up."

"What the hell are you..." Madelyn began, then registered what he was saying. "Morgan?" At Nathan's shaky nod, she came over to him and slipped her arm around his waist, taking his weight a bit on her shoulder. "Do you want to be there? When he does? Because we can handle it - you really should be in bed," she said, frowning a little but knowing it was probably important Nathan be there.

"I have to be there." There was no doubt in his mind, none whatsoever. "If I'm not there when he wakes up he won't know..." Nathan trailed off, gazing down at her, troubled. "I have to be there," he repeated helplessly, trying not to lean more than a little on her. Otherwise she'd send him right back to bed.

"Moira's going to kill me," Madelyn muttered under her breath. "Okay, wait here for a second, okay? I'll grab a wheelchair - no need to strain yourself any more than necessary." She gave him a stern look. "Stay put - I'll be rigiht back, I promise."

Nathan leaned back against the wall - nice, solid wall - until she came back. "Not an invalid," he managed with a wan smile as she helped him sit down in the wheelchair. "Just, you know... brains. Leaking out of my ears. Call it a fashion statement..."

"The height of fashion amongst the psionically gifted..." Madelyn agreed with a grin, pushing him towards Morgan's room. "And see? Isn't this easier than the dramatic but hell on my back lurching down the hall?"

"Mmm... could get used to it." Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, wincing. "Be careful," he said. "When we're in there. About touching him. I know you've got to check on him and all, but... no conditioning doesn't mean no instincts. And he might lash out without caring if it hurts him to do it..."

"I'll keep that in mind." Reaching the door of the room they'd put Morgan in, she paused. "Should I knock? Give him some warning?"

Nathan opened his eyes again, reaching out very tentatively, just barely brushing Morgan's thoughts. "I just did." He swallowed as she looked at him, then reached for the door. "Slowly, Maddie. Don't go over to the bed right away."

Madelyn nodded, reaching over Nathan's hand to open the door before wheeling him in cautiously. She stopped half-way between bed and door, careful to leave both hands visible on the handles of the chair, content to let Nathan take the lead on this one - she didn't fancy being flung across the room by a traumatised telekinetic.

The man on the bed was stirring as they came in. Morgan's head turned towards them, unfocused hazel eyes drifting over them, not settling on either Madelyn or Nathan.

Nathan took a slightly shaky breath. "Tim," he said, softly but firmly. "Tim, it's Nate. Do you--" Those hazel eyes sharpened, suddenly, and everything in the room that wasn't bolted down started to rattle.

It was difficult, holding her ground when there was a patient obviously needing help, but Madelyn kept in mind Nathan's warnings and stayed put. "Tim, I'm Madelyn Bartlet. I'm a doctor here," she said, voice soft and calm. "We're not here to hurt you, we're here to help."

"Tim," Nathan repeated as steadily as he could. "I know... I know it's gone. You have to try and concentrate. Listen to me." Tim blinked at him, and Nathan took another deep, unsteady breath. "It's all right," he said slowly, wishing he dared reach out telepathically. "You're safe here. We brought you back with us. It's all right."

There was something close to horror in those dazed eyes, suddenly, and before Nathan could say anything else, Morgan was up and off the bed with alarming speed for a man who'd spent a full day unconscious. He stumbled back away from them, into the corner of the room. Various small objects spontaneously started flying around on wild trajectories, and the bed rattled, shifting a few inches in one direction. Morgan was wincing already, though, his already pale face going gray and blood already trickling from his nose.

"Shit." At the sight of the nosebleed, Madelyn began moving forward, but slowly, remembering Nathan's caution and taking into account the objects being flung around them. "Tim," she repeated, stopping about six feet away. "Listen to me. No-one's going to hurt you, but you have to stop using your powers - you've suffered a fairly serious overload, and you're hurting yourself."

Nathan gritted his teeth - and pushed himself up out of the wheelchair, staggering a little. Ignoring the flung objects - none of them were coming at him, this was clearly spontaneous and not all that focused - he moved past Maddie and slowly towards Tim, both hands outstretched, palms up.

"I don't know if you can imagine," he said, his voice breaking, and not from weariness or pain this time, "how much I've wished for this moment over the years." Tim was blinking at him suddenly, focusing on him, and Nathan swallowed. "How much I wished you could be free of it, too. I just never knew how to get there."

Okay, focussing on Nathan was a good thing... Madelyn pulled back a little, still ready to move forward if Tim collapsed.

"I never wanted to leave you. Or Mick, or Ani..." There were other names he could have added there, too. A few of the other people the X-Men had been fighting on Tuesday. "I just... didn't know how to help you," Nathan said, swaying a little as he came to a stop. His eyes were stinging, and he could hardly bring himself to meet Tim's eyes.

Tim made a noise that was halfway between a gasp and a sob. "My head," he said dazedly. "My head hurts... what happened? Where..." He looked at Madelyn, uncertainty and confusion written all over his face. "You... I know who you are? Bartlet?"

Madelyn nodded. "That's right. Madelyn, if you prefer." Pulling a wad of Kleenex from her labcoat pocket, she came a little closer. "Your nose is bleeding," she told him matter-of-factly. "Want me to help with that?"

"It's..." Tim trailed off, staring at her blankly for a moment. The objects levitating suddenly hit the floor with a crash, and he slid down the wall and to the floor, his eyes fluttering.

Nathan moved forward and managed to crouch at his side without falling over. He looked up at Madelyn and nodded to her. Critical moment past. "She's here to help," he said wearily, bracing himself with one hand against the wall. "We both are."

At Nathan's nod, Madelyn came forward and knelt by Morgan's side, holding the tissues to the nosebleed with one hand and feeling for his pulse with the other. A bit erratic, but strong. "Lean forward," she instructed gently, switching hands on the tissues so she could push him slightly forward by the shoulder. "And Nathan, sit down before you fall down, please? I can't lift you."

Nathan sat down, a bit awkwardly. "We make quite the pair," he murmured, watching Madelyn tend to Tim. "We always did."

"I'm seeing that," Madelyn said wryly. "Right down to the brain dribbling out the ears." The nosebleed wasn't slowing right away, and she reached for the box of Kleenex which had luckily fallen not too far away.

"Feel... like a truck hit me," Tim muttered feebly, his voice muffled. "What the hell..."

"We blew up part of northern Canada." Nathan waited for Tim to blink at him, then smiled crookedly. "Yes, I'm serious."

"Well, shit..." Something that might have been a laugh if it hadn't been so painful-sounding escaped Tim. He flinched a little as Madelyn shifted a bit closer, and Nathan took a sharp breath as he sensed the younger man crumbling inwardly, the moment of humor a frail shield against the reality of the moment.

He eased forward, laying a hand on Tim's shoulder. "It's all right," he whispered miserably, then looked at Madelyn. "Is there anything you need to... check, or do? Because he and I... we need to talk..."

Madelyn nodded. "I'll come back and make sure you're both okay in a bit," she said. "Just don't blow anything up? Including yourselves? Hank's sleeping, and I'd hate to have to drag him down here to haul you both into bed again." She kept her tone light, figuring that was probably the best tack.

"The kids," Tim said, stiffening, his eyes going very wide. "Those kids..."

"They're all right," Nathan said immediately, forcefully. "They're here. Madelyn's been looking after them."

"And Madelyn's about to go and check on them now," Madelyn added. "They're fine, Tim. A little shaken up, but they're going to be fine."

Tim was shaking suddenly, not looking at either of them, and Nathan shifted even closer, tentatively. "We'll be all right," he said, looking up at Madelyn and mustering a smile. "And if we're not, I"ll yell."

"I'll hold you to that - Moira won't be happy if she hears I left you on the floor." Madelyn handed the Kleenex box to Nathan, patting his hand briefly. "I'll leave the door open, okay?"

Nathan waited until he heard her footsteps recede before he said anything. "Talk to me, Tim," he said hoarsely. "Please." There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the fucking words.

The answer seemed to take forever to come. "And say what?" Tim said in a ravaged-sounding voice, and Nathan flinched at the look in his eyes. Lost and terrified and angry, why hadn't he expected angry? "What the fuck did you do to me, Nathan?"

"I'm not sure." Nathan swallowed. His throat felt terribly dry, suddenly. "Haven't been awake all that long myself..."

"How long?" The question was still hoarse, but snapped out with some force.

"A day." Nathan concentrated on breathing deeply, trying to ignore the increasing pressure behind his eyes. He'd be the one with the nosebleed next. "You've been right out cold the whole time, I gather." He paused a beat. "Your conditioning is gone," he said, his voice low. "Completely."

Tim's eyes went distant, as if his attention had turned inward, and the anger was gone abruptly, leaving behind only shock and bewilderment. "It's... I can't hear my tactical imperatives. You're sitting right here, and I should be..." He focused again on Nathan, almost desperately. "What did you do?"

Nathan gazed back at him for a long moment, and then told him about MacInnis and Kritzer and the Trojan Horse. Tim's eyes went wider as he listened, what little color there was left in his face vanishing. Nathan wondered dimly whether the iron band closing around his chest as he stumbled over the explanation was going to cut his air off completely before he finished.

It didn't. "...and I don't understand why it's still there," he concluded hoarsely. "Or why it didn't kill me to use it after all."

Tim was still staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "You...I..." Nathan was starting to wonder if it had been too much, if he should have waited to explain, but then Tim started to shake his head, his eyes suspiciously bright. "I should have..." He lowered the kleenex tentatively, his free hand going to his temple and some of the pain leaving his expression. "Should have realized. They sent you out into the field again so early. Mick and I couldn't understand why. But they knew? That MacInnis had done something?" He gave a cracked laugh. "They wouldn't have ever brought you back if they'd known what."

Nathan stared at him blankly for a moment. "I... they must have known something," he said finally, unsteadily. That had never actually occurred to him before. "The conditioning team... I don't remember much from the weekend the Trojan Horse was implanted, but I do remember MacInnis. It might have been enough, if they'd seen him in my mind..." His hands started to shake, and he folded them together. Enough to make them throw him away again as too dangerous to use.

"Pawns. We're pawns to both sides, now? Great. Fucking great. " Tim made a choked noise, resting his head in his hands. "Nate, I can't think," he almost moaned. "Everything's all..."

"I know." Nathan stayed where he was, watching him. Aching for the pain and confusion he could sense in the other man's mind, even with his own mind so raw and singed by the backlash from their fight. "I know," he repeated more quietly. "Everything's jumbled together. You can't push it away."

"It hurts."

"I know." Nathan closed his eyes as the pressure behind his eyes swelled suddenly. Blindly, he reached out for the kleenex as he felt blood trickling from his nose. Sprained brains. Such fun. "You shut off the radios on your helicopter," he said dimly, leaning his head forward a little. "I saw it. In your mind."

"I..." Tim didn't go on, and Nathan opened his eyes again, peering at him. "I thought I could..." His expression crumpled suddenly and he scrubbed at his eyes. "Kids. More damned kids. Like in V-Vermont..."

Nathan was hit suddenly by the memory of Tim charging, screaming at him, half-crazed by what he'd seen in that safehouse. "You did what you could," he said hoarsely. "You gave us an out."

"Didn't do enough." Tim suddenly jerked backwards, his head hitting the wall behind him sharply. An involuntary reaction, Nathan thought for a moment. Until he did it again.

A growl escaped Nathan before he could help himself and he reached out, one hand closing around Tim's shoulder and squeezing tightly, ignoring the flinch. "Stop doing that."

"I can't think!" Tim said, breathing hard, sounding almost panicked now.

"Concussing yourself is not going to help," Nathan said, the acidic tone he might have used on Tim fifteen years ago when the younger man had been in training coming back easily, naturally. "Breathe. Look at me - look at me!" Tim blinked at him, and Nathan reached for the kleenex box again. The ones he had now were soaking through already. "There are things you can do to make it easier," he said raggedly. "Meditation exercises. I'll show you. Charles will help."

"I just... I don't know what this is," Tim stammered shakily. "How to... I don't remember..."

What someone else might have considered incoherent babble, Nathan understood perfectly. "You will," he whispered almost fiercely, squeezing Tim's shoulder again before letting go. He gave a sudden, unsteady laugh that nevertheless had more than a little real joy beneath the weariness and uncertainty. "Fuck. I have missed you so much, you know..."

Tim looked up at him, focusing again, at least somewhat. "Me too, old man," he said, his voice breaking. "Kind of g-glad I never told you that in August. I can say it now, and not..." He trailed off, as if he'd lost his train of thought.

But Nathan just smiled, holding Tim's eyes with his for a moment, reminding himself that there would be plenty of time to say the rest of the things that needed saying. Right now, though, he was getting a little tired of sitting on the floor.

Except that he wasn't sure he could get up.