Part Eight
"Nathan? You look a little down this morning."
He shrugged. "Let's just get to work."
Jean gave him a speculative look. "I've got a better idea. Let's just call off the training for today, and you can tell me what's on your mind." When he started to protest, Jean laid a hand on his arm. "Nathan, you've done nothing but talk while we've been doing this. At this point, I think that helping you sort out whatever is bothering you is going to be a lot more helpful than the training we've been doing."
He looked at her and ran a hand back through his hair. "I'd... appreciate that."
Jean gave him a pleasant smile. "Good." Glancing around the empty Danger Room, she added. "Why don't we find someplace more... conducive to conversation."
----
Nathan leaned back against the edge of the sofa, unease settling heavy on his shoulders. They'd ended up in the library again, the two of them seated on the plush oriental rugs that covered the hardwood floor. To anyone else, the arrangement might have seemed unnatural, but between him and Jean, it was one that worked.
He sighed. "I tried meditation. It only confuses things more. I keep seeing... Oath," he breathed. "I keep seeing Aliya and Tyler. There were dreams... months ago, but I thought..." He trailed off. "I didn't think it was me."
"You haven't talked to Domino about it?"
He grimaced. "Not exactly. We talked some last night, but not about the dreams in specific... She always closes up when my past enters the conversation. She's not... jealous, but it would hurt. I've hurt her enough already. Bright Lady, I spent a year pursuing a relationship with someone pretending to be her, and I didn't even notice the difference. She's already forgiven me for more than anyone should have. It'd be like betraying her again."
"Would it? It's your past, Nathan. You're certainly allowed to remember it, to miss them."
"This isn't the same."
"Then maybe you need to examine why this is happening, Nathan."
"I don't know why," he growled in frustration. "I haven't the faintest clue what I'm doing anymore."
"Would it help," Jean asked gently, "if you had someone to just talk to? Who wants to listen? It must be hard keeping everything locked away."
"I've had years of practice," he replied dryly.
"Well, I would like to hear anything you care to share with me. It broke my heart when your father and I had to leave you, Nathan. It would be nice to know you were happy."
"I was... I--"
She rested a hand on his arm. "Why don't you tell me about Tyler?"
----
His session with Jean ended early, and still feeling restless, Nathan went to track down Dom. They really needed to talk--she didn't want to, and that was fine, but he was going to have to force the issue or learn to live with the vague sense of apprehension that had been dogging him for weeks. And he had a feeling the latter wasn't really an option. He finally found her in the garage, sorting through a pile of keys, jacket slung over her shoulder.
"You going somewhere?"
"Actually," she gave him a wry smile. "I've got to make a run into New York. Stuff I need to take care of."
"Oh. We could--"
Dom held up a hand, cutting him off. "Not really a group outing, sorry. Look, why don't you do something with your dad? You two have hardly said a word to each other while we've been here."
Nathan gave her a sullen look. "We don't have anything to talk about."
"Well, you can work on that," she replied giving him a light peck on the cheek. "I'll be back tonight, promise."
So much for talking, he thought tiredly as he watched her depart.
----
"You lose something?" Bobby looked up from channel surfing long enough to watch Cyclops look around the room distractedly.
Scott Summers scratched his head. "Only my daughter."
"Oh. Jean had her. I think she's taking Rachel into town with her."
"Jean's working with Nathan."
"Maybe plans changed?" Drake shrugged, returning his attention to the television.
'Jean?' He sent across their rapport.
#Yes, Dear?#
'Do you...'
#She's with me. Our session ended early, so I thought Rachel and I could use some quality time. You've been looking after her all week, after all.#
'Oh. But--'
#Why don't you see what your son is up to? With all the attention you've been lavishing on Rachel, he's going to feel neglected,# she teased.
'But--'
#Scott. I know you two don't exactly... communicate well. Maybe it's time to work on that, hmm?#
He sighed. 'All right.'
#Good. I'll see you this evening then.# She gave him a quick mental embrace before breaking contact. Shaking his head, Scott went off to track down his time-displaced son.
----
Domino wandered into the small dinner, eyes scanning the booths until she found who she was looking for. She slid into the booth, slipping off her jacket and draping it on the seat next to her.
"You look a little ragged today," G.W. commented.
"Didn't sleep well," she replied. "And don't lecture me on it. You know I don't listen."
"True enough. Still it'd be nice to know you're taking care of yourself. From a prospective employer's viewpoint, of course."
Dom sighed. "About that... I don't know if I can take the job right now, G.W. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the offer--" She broke off as the waitress came to take their orders.
"But," he countered, once the girl had gone again.
"But I think it's too soon. Nate and I are still hammering out some personal issues, and--Christ, now with this... I was gone for half an hour. How am I supposed to feel secure leaving for days at a time?"
"Hey, no pressure, Dom. You don't have to take it now... you don't have to take the offer, period, if that's what you decide. But you and I both know Nate can take care of himself. For a few days, anyway. It'd certainly be nice to have you on the team."
"Yeah... I don't know. I'll have to see how Nate feels."
"You haven't told him?"
"I was waiting for the right time," she admitted. "And then this happened. I guess I'm still waiting."
"Dom, whatever your hesitation is, I'm sure it's not as big a deal as you've convinced yourself it is. Things never are."
"You're probably right," she sighed. "It's just my way of telling myself that maybe I need more time."
"Take all the time you need. Offer will still be there. I can understand that dealing with Nate needs to come first. I've got a vested interest in this anyway."
"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow.
"Sure. Who'd you think gave him your number?"
----
"We were set up."
"This surprises you?" Nathan lowered his sunglasses, looking around the interior of the restaurant while they waited to be seated. Jean had apparently offered up the same suggestion to Scott as Dom had to him--and had also conveniently vacated the grounds. He somehow doubted it'd been coincidence, especially after he'd learned they'd spent a good portion of the previous morning talking.
"Only that they cooperated on it."
"You'd be surprised," Nathan replied dryly. "Dom will do just about anything if she decides it'd be 'good for me.'"
"Well, there's nothing fundamentally wrong with that, is there?" Scott asked as they were shown to a table.
"Dom's ideas of what's good for me can be... interesting."
"Somehow, that's hardly surprising." An uncomfortable silence settled between them as they looked over their menus and placed orders. Scott cleared his throat, finally speaking up. "This isn't going to go any quicker by staring at each other."
"You think?" Nathan grumbled in reply.
Holding back the urge to sigh in frustration, Scott valiantly tried to keep the conversation going. It was going to be a very long lunch, otherwise. "So, how has the training with Jean been going? She hasn't really said much about it. I think she was hoping I'd just ask you."
Nate looked away, mouth set in a grim line. "It's not." He said finally.
"What?"
"You heard me. It's not. I'm not getting anywhere." Frustration and anger showed plainly on his face. "It's one big flonqing waste of time."
"But Jean--"
"Jean wants me to admit defeat. Dom thinks I just need to work harder. There's no point to any of this."
"And how much of that is frustration talking? "
"I don't need a lecture," Nathan snarled.
"Too bad," Scott retorted. "Would it kill you to admit that just maybe you can't do everything, Nathan?"
After a pause, Nate gave him a stern look and replied, "No. I fully admit that I can't fly."
This, Scott thought as he tried to repress a laugh, must be what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of his own jokes. It figured that Nathan would have inherited his sense of humor. "Well, that's good," he replied, "Because I don't think I could catch you if you decided to test that theory." Their food arrived, and they ate in silence for a few minutes. Scott was fairly sure that Nathan was now inwardly gloating over the fact that he'd managed to change the subject. "So you haven't made any progress?" He asked, watching Nathan flinch almost imperceptibly at being called on it.
"Some." His french-fries suddenly appeared to be intensely interesting. "Not very much."
"Oh." He stopped for a moment, trying to form a reply. "This situation doesn't..."
"Compromise my control on the virus? Not if I'm careful. I don't have much margin for error anymore." He frowned down at his sandwich. "It's just so flonqing aggravating. I should be able to do this."
"Why do you need to?" Scott asked, a thought occurring to him. "It's not likely Apocalypse is going to come back from the dead. Not after the mess you made."
A wry laugh escaped Nathan unbidden. "Was it really that bad? I don't remember."
"You should have heard the complaints from the team. They're the ones who had to clean it up."
"I'm nothing if not enthusiastic about my work."
"You're also dodging the question."
Nathan's hand clenched reflexively. "Weren't you the one always harping at me about learning to use my powers?"
"Because you didn't seem to have any interest in it, Nathan. I wasn't asking you to do the impossible."
"This shouldn't be impossible!"
"Things change," he replied calmly, but forcefully. "People change. And when that change happens, we adapt to it, and find a way to work with it. You've fought enough battles to know that. So you can't go toe to toe with every damned threat to humanity there is anymore. Learn to live with that, find other ways. Isn't there anything else worth doing in life?"
"I don't know," he growled. "I haven't had much chance to find out."
"I don't think you should let Dom hear you say that."
Nathan stared at him for a long moment. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked finally, and assaulted the pickle spear on his plate with his fork.
Scott sighed. "You've been living together for--nearly a year?"
"Closer to six months," Nate grumbled, still mauling the unhappy pickle.
"And you're telling me you don't know what you want. That doesn't strike me as reflecting very well on the relationship."
Nathan gave him a baleful look. "You--" He shook his head. "Don't make judgments when you don't know the whole story."
"Then why don't you fill me in?" Scott helpfully offered up his own pickle spear for mutilation.
"No."
"So," Scott replied slowly. "I can't comment, if I don't know the whole story. But you won't tell me the whole story." He paused. "I swear, you must have gotten this sadistic streak from your mother."
"I don't think you should let Jean hear you say that."
Scott resisted the urge to tear his hair out. "Nathan," he continued, trying to remain undaunted. He was nothing if not persistent, after all. "All I mean is, in all that time, neither of you has stopped to consider what you want to do next?"
"I wanted to start a nice little law practice," Nathan replied almost wistfully. "I'd have an office. I'd draw up wills and contracts and divorce papers. It would be nice."
Scott blinked, then remembered that his son couldn't see the baffled look he was giving him. "So... why don't you?"
Nathan looked at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted another head. "Because it would drive Dom insane," he responded. He stabbed the now shapeless pickles for emphasis.
"Oh."
"Look, Scott. I appreciate the effort, but I think I've had all the bonding I can take. No offence," he added belatedly.
Scott cursed inwardly as he watched the crack in his son's armor seal itself seamlessly. Well, he'd given it a shot, anyway. Jean certainly couldn't claim he hadn't tried. "None taken," he replied tiredly, and went to take care of the bill. Nathan stared forlornly at the former pickles for a long moment, then set the fork down and followed.