xp_logs | Nathan and Amanda, Sunday night (Reply)

Nathan struggles out of another dream to find Amanda sitting beside his bed.

Amanda hated the rig they'd put Nathan in, even as she knew it was for the best. Metal brace, holding him perfectly still in his sleep, IV and other tubes everywhere, the whole armada of machines. It made him look... helpless. And that disturbed her almost more than the possibility of losing him had. "Too much bloody metal," she muttered, unconsciously stroking his hand as she sat by the bed. "Can't do anythin' with all that shite in the way..."

Someone was holding his hand. Except he was running across the desert, attention fixed on the objective of the training exercise and trying to ignore the way Tim and Mick were bantering across the coms about him being old and how they were right behind him, catching up now, Nathan, better watch out...

But someone was holding his hand. Talking to him? Something close to a whimper of protest slipped out. He wanted to stay, wanted that dinner afterwards in the dining hall, chewing over the events of the afternoon, gleeful faces all around him...

"Bloody hell, Nate, when you get hurt, you make a proper job of it an' no mistake," Amanda went on, not thinking he could hear her, but needing to talk any way. It drowned out the ping of the machines. "No brain sprain tho' this time, you'll be glad t' hear. Gunna point that out t' all those smug gits, too, when I'm allowed."

Why was Amanda thinking about slamming Paige's head into a wall? That probably wasn't good... Nathan managed to open his eyes, but all he could see were blurs, and what he thought was the ceiling. #... mi'caehla?# he sent, a bare mental whisper.

She nearly missed it, but the link with Manuel had made her sensitive to psychic phenomena. Especially ones from the people she cared about. "Nate?" she asked, leaning closer, unconsciously tightening her grip on his hand. #I'm here. Don't talk if it hurts.#

#'S okay... no brain sprain, remember...# It was hard to put the thoughts together, though, and harder to push them out. Drugs, again. Still. He blinked, trying to focus on her face. #So much for... no medlab streak. Didn't even make six weeks... bad me...#

#I'll forgive you this one time,# Amanda replied, glad for the telepathy because suddenly she couldn't talk, not with the lump in her throat and the blurring of her vision. #Special circumstances and all that.# The accent blurred to virtually nothing when she used non-verbal means of communication.

#Scared you... so sorry...# After everything she was going through with Pete, for him to come back all banged up like this... it wasn't fair. Like so much else. His eyes stung as he thought about Mick and Tim, reminding himself that they were gone, that the dreams were one thing and reality was another. Had to remember that. Too easy to forget.

#You didn't mean to, Nate. I'm just so glad to see you're not...# She lay her cheek against his hand, closing her eyes tightly against the tears that were threatening to escape. No crying. Not any more.

#It's all done... they're all safe,# he sent a bit disjointedly. #So many kids... felt all the color come back, they'll all be safe...# But that just led him back to thinking about all the minds he hadn't sensed, and he squeezed his eyes shut, tears slipping out nonetheless.

"Shhh..." she said out loud, feeling the pain in his mental 'voice', lifting her head to see the tears. Reaching for the obligatory box of Kleenex on the side table, she wiped them away gently. #I'm sorry, Nate. They told me, about...#

#Not fair... not enough time. They barely got to breathe...# It struck him then that he shouldn't be falling apart like this, not when it was Amanda. She needed to not worry, and this wasn't helping, even if every time he thought of them, thought about watching them fall, it was like an abyss yawning beneath his feet.

#But at least they got the chance to breathe at all,# she said, holding onto his hand like it was a lifeline. His or hers, she wasn't sure. #And they saved the kids. You all did. You stopped it.#

It seemed to comfort him a little, his breathing slowing as she watched. #Wish I'd seen...# he sent back, his mental voice a little calmer. Drifting. #Seen them come out of their cells... I just wish I'd seen it...#

#So do I,# she replied, a little wistfully. #Must have been a sight.# He was slipping back into sleep again, she noticed, and that wasn't a bad thing. #Rest, Nate. You need all your strength to heal up.#

#Love you,# Nathan sent, about the last coherent thought he could muster. He thought he'd said that, before he'd left for Greece... but it never hurt to say it again. Just to make sure.

#Love you, too,# Amanda sent back, just the barest whisper as she reached carefully through the medical equipment to lay her hand against his cheek, just with the slightest touch of a sleep spell. Nathan's mind needed healing just as much as his body, and he needed sleep for that. #Sleep well, old man. I'll be here when you wake up. Promise.#