The X-Project

Jim heads down to the boathouse to talk to Nathan about something he's been holding on to for him - the memory Saul gave him in Ushuaia.


Moira had Rachel with her in the mansion this afternoon, for which Nathan was actually rather grateful. They were making good headway with the box-maze, and it was going much faster without Ray playing peekabo, or worse, 'let's sending everything toppling over and watch Dad try not to swear'.

He'd chased Rahne out about an hour ago, telling her that she needed to go rediscover the meaning of fun and go chase the wildlife. She'd been working like a trooper, Nathan reflected with a faint smile, sinking down into the chair and hitting a key on the keyboard to bring the computer out of hibernation.

A familiar flicker of thoughts on the deck, and he looked up, seeing Jim peering through the screen door. "Come on in," he called, smiling at the younger man. "Look, you can see whole patches of floor in here now."

Jim smiled as he let himself in. "The place looks good. Although it's a little worrying how much of your office-time seems to be devoted to trying to find your carpet."

Nathan gave him a mock-repressive look. "Hush. We'll get it all in order," he said, his eyes wandering the office for a moment. "Business doesn't stop to let us finish setting up, which is why we're still at it. Odd doings in Nicaragua."

"You'll get it done when you get it done. Compared to everything else going on, I guess seeing what you're walking on is secondary." Jim hovered by the doorway for a moment, uncertain how to broach this. At last he decided there was no way to approach this but the direct one. He put his hands in his pockets and tried to appear not to be steeling himself. "Um, look. Are you . . . busy right now? Aside from this, I mean."

"Hmm?" Nathan re-focused on Jim, then smiled. "No, not really. I could do some more unpacking and organizing, but I've been at that all afternoon, after having spent the morning on the phone to various people in Managua... I think I can safely take a break."

"Okay." Jim glanced around. There didn't appear to be anyone else here, but that could change. Relocating was probably a good idea. "Can we maybe go for a walk?" he asked, mismatched eyes flickering back to Nathan. "It's not -- bad, or anything, I think it's just better if we aren't interrupted."

Nathan raised an eyebrow but then nodded and rose. "Fresh air wouldn't go amiss," he said, wondering just what was on Jim's mind. This sounded like it might be serious.

He should have been better at this by now, Jim thought as the two men headed towards the woods. It had happened with Jean, too. Absolutely no professional segue. That was what happened when he made up his mind to do things, he supposed. When it had to be out it had to be out -- and this had been a long time in coming. Nevertheless, he didn't speak again until they were well on their way to the treeline.

"I don't know if you know," Jim said as they made their way down the path, "but when the team was in Ushuaia to find you I talked with Saul."

Nathan was quiet for a long moment, his expression not so much unresponsive as merely distant, as if Jim's words had nudged his mind off onto a track taking it far away from the here and now. "Ah," he finally said, his voice low, as they kept walking. "No, I hadn't known. I suppose it's not much of a stretch, though."

"We were on the plane with Angelo and Paige waiting for the others to find you. We . . . talked." Jim hesitated for the barest of moments before adding, "And he gave me something."

There had never been a question as to whether or not he would tell Nathan about the memory. Jim had known Nathan's feelings regarding his father before the abduction, just as he'd known what knowledge of Saul's actions to save him after the fact would do to muddy those emotions even further. The memory Saul had given him couldn't help but deepen that ambivalence, and the thought of leaving Nathan open to that doubt only after his father's death pained him. In the end, though, the question of ignorance hadn't even been worthy of the asking. Jim knew which option he would have chosen if he had been in Nathan's place.

"Gave you something." Nathan was silent again for a brief space of time. "Why do I get the sense that it's not something you've enjoyed being the custodian of in the interim? Oh, right," he said before Jim could answer. "It's either because I'm telepathic, or because no good comes from anything having to do with my father." He had a sudden twinge of guilt, thinking of Elpis.

"It wasn't . . . bad. In itself. It was a memory. Just a memory." One whose original owner no longer existed, which meant the responsibility of bearing it was now Jim's. He still hated Saul for that, a little. Did he not have enough of those already? But that, he reminded himself, was irrelevant now. Easing the tightening of his jaw loose again, Jim fished out a cigarette and lit it.

"He wanted me to pass it on to you," the telepath said, staring at the burning end of his cigarette, "but that's not up to him. It's your mind, your consequences. Your past. So I'm asking you. Do you want it? It's up to you."

Nathan opened his mouth and then closed it again, unable to keep the unsettled look off his face. "A memory. That he gave to you to give to me." His throat felt very tight all of a sudden. There were all kinds of possibilities, with something like that... were any of them good? "He... wasn't happy that I didn't remember things properly. However much he agreed with the choices Gideon made all those years ago..."

They were under the trees now, in the shade. Nathan folded his arms across his chest as they continued to walk, taking a shaky breath. "How would you pass it on?" he asked. "Would you just show me?"

Jim shook his head. "No. I wouldn't introduce something like this to your system so abruptly. The memory overlaps with one you should have, but it's not yours. If there are any fragments of the original left your mind might try to knit the two together to fill in the gaps. The dichotomy of the differing perspectives can be . . . jarring." Jim exhaled and watched the smoke catch in a beam of sunlight, drifting like mist in the trees. "I think it might be better if I gave it to you and put it behind a temporary block. One that you can remove yourself when you feel ready. You can process it in a time and place of your choosing -- or not. But it'll be your decision."

Nathan thought about that for a minute. "Makes sense," he finally said, slowly. "And yeah... the last thing we want is my mind constructing more memories, right?" He shook his head a little, his expression shifting into something unreadable. "It's a bit of a conundrum. I know that if I take it, block or no block, I'll eventually succumb and look at it. And do I want to do that..." It wasn't a question, and he eyed Jim, a bit embarassed. "I'm thinking out loud, here."

"Knowing, or not knowing -- it's a hard choice. You don't have to make it right now. You can sleep on it for a night. Or a month, if that's what you need. I'll be here. Like I said, it's up to you."

Nathan smiled a bit, looking in the direction of the lake. "Yeah, I didn't think this was a now or never offer..." Something occurred to him, and he looked back at Jim with a slight frown. "Saul didn't ask, did he."

"No. I'd pulled down my shields to follow the fight. He saw an opening and took it. It was my own carelessness, my own fault." Jim hesitated for a moment, cigarette poised in his hand. "But he also knew he was running out of time."

Nathan shook his head, his expression darkening. "Shouldn't have mattered," he muttered, even as part of him took Jim's last comment and turned it over and over again in his mind, trying to figure it out. "If he was married to my mother for all those years, he should have known better, with a telepath..." Nathan hesitated, smiling humorlessly. "Wait, did I just expect ethical standards of my father? Whoops."

The younger man snorted. "When a situation's already gone to hell, there's not a lot of room left for considering other people's feelings. It doesn't exactly put you in a generous mood." He softened a little, glancing back up at Nathan. "No, I get why he did it. It was down to being unethical or having the truth -- or part of it, at least -- lost forever. If he'd asked, I'm not sure I would have refused."

Nathan made a noise that might have been understanding or frustration or both, and they walked on in silence for another few minutes before he spoke again. "He and I talked just before Gideon kidnapped me... did I ever tell you that?" He sighed, more heavily than he'd intended. "If I'd known that was the last time I was ever going to talk to him, I would have tried harder to..." What? He wasn't even sure what he meant.

"There's always that feeling, thinking back. If only I'd done this, or hadn't said that . . . but that's just it. It's all 'if.' And too often what we wish just wouldn't have been conceviable for the reality of the time. It was how it was. That's all."

"I told him I wanted to forgive him. Not in so many words, of course. He... didn't want it." Nathan shrugged, and if he was studiously not meeting Jim's eyes, at least Jim wasn't calling him on it. "Why do I get the sense that this memory isn't going to be real helpful on the closure front?"

Jim shook his head slowly. "No, and yes. All this is past, and nothing you can do now can change that. But . . . it's the past. It won't be the whole picture, but it'll be some small piece. If you can see that, and just hold it for what it was rather than what it could have been -- maybe that will be enough."

"It would be good to have at least one thing I knew was true." Nathan hesitated, giving Jim a doubtful look. "Do I know it's true?"

Jim gave him a lopsided smile around his cigarette. "I'm used to working with people who fabricate, alter, or completely blot out memories for themselves as a course of survival. Saul had experience with telepaths, but I'd know the difference. It's real. I don't even sense any blurring of embelishment. It feels -- pure."

Nathan stopped, taking a deep breath as he turned towards Jim. "All right," he said, quietly. "I'm going to take you up on it, block and all, before I have the opportunity to think this to death." He smiled a bit faintly. "Logan and I were talking yesterday about how ignorance isn't bliss."

This evoked a slight laugh from the younger man as he too came to a stop. "Yeah, Charles has told me Logan's psychology is . . . interesting. Although he phrased it more in terms of 'never attempt anything remotely resembling psychic therapy, ever.' He's apparently a little out of my league." Cigarette still balanced between his lips, Jim took a deep breath and raised one hand to hover next to Nathan's face. #All right. Ready?#

Nathan lowered a section of his shields, enough to give the access he needed without putting all of his defenses down. Which he didn't particularly want to do - he had a bit of a headache today, the beer last night most likely, and he'd been feeling the psychic noise a little more than usual.

#Ready,# Nathan sent back and envisioned his own hand outstretched to Jim. It might be a fairly simple mental trick, but he'd always found that it made linking easier.

The psychic contact was simultaneous with the physical. Jim settled his fingertips lightly against Nathan's temple and eased himself into the opening the other man had made for him, mask tightly secured against even the possibility of unwanted bleed-over. Slipping below the level of conscious thought, the telepath first sectioned off a small area to prepare space, then began to write the second-hand memory from his own mind into Nathan's. He had to be very careful to avoid transferring his own feelings of confusion and dismay upon reception to the substance of the memory itself. He hadn't asked to be custodian of what he gave to Nathan, but he was. Jim was determined that it would not be contaminated.

It only took a heartbeat. Jim tagged the section of newly-introduced memory with a psychic trace and withdrew. The memory was left behind, now stored in a safety-deposit box nestled amidst a shelf of many, but the key had been left in the lock.

"There," Jim said, lowering his hand. "It's in."

Nathan breathed out, focusing again on Jim as he raised that portion of his shields again. "Thank you," he said quietly, then smiled a bit quizzically. "I'll let you know? When I've seen it, I mean... unless you'd rather consider this 'legacy delivered' and leave it at that." He had a sense Jim would like to know, but he didn't want to go jumping to conclusions. Or not ask.

"Whether you want to talk about it or not later is up to you. I think the viewing might be best done in private. After that . . ." Jim gave him a half-shrug, flicking ash onto the side of the path. "In your own time."

"Okay." They started walking again, as if by mutual consent. "I appreciate you waiting until now," Nathan said. "To tell me about this, I mean. I think I can handle it better now than I could have a month ago."

Jim smiled. "I don't think last month was good for anyone. I try to give people time to catch their breath. Too many hits too close together will knock anyone down. It's just too bad this place doesn't give us much of a choice."

"We have quiet weeks. Occasionally." Nathan laughed a bit ruefully. "Once in a blue moon... not nearly enough, in any case. Here's hoping the summer will be a little quieter."

"That sounds a little too much like famous last words for me," Jim said, raising an eyebrow. "If it's not, I hold you responsible for jinxing it."

"Come on, someone had to say it," Nathan said with a soft laugh. "Personally, I'm thrilled to death to see the end of May approaching. There's something about May. May 2004, I was stabbed, shot, and poisoned. Not all in one incident, either."

"Well, there's still time. I mean, we still have prom." Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, why did I let Lorna talk us into co-organizing? I'm the last person who should be coordinating a high school social event. I didn't even make it to sixth grade before the Crazy hit."

"Because you're a pushover, Jim." Nathan gave him a deadpan look. "Don't feel bad. So am I. I gather it's an endearing quality."

"Yeah, we are a pushover, aren't I?" Jim said with a snort. He took a drag. "Oh well. I think I'm going to limit my involvement to hanging things up where Lorna tells me and making sure no one spikes the punchbowl. That's what chaperones do, right? I think I can just about handle punch-guarding."

Nathan shook his head, smiling. "Chin up. Surely it can't be that bad - not that I have any prom experience myself. When others my age were having proms I was blowing up arms stockpiles. And sometimes arms dealers."

The telepath shuddered a little. "Um, we try not to think about eighteen. Although that might be good in the comparison sense. I mean, regarded in context a dance can't be that bad, right?" Jim considered his setting and winced. "Now just watch, I jinxed that, too . . ."

Nathan laughed again, rubbing at the back of his neck. "You know, they are capable of normal social interaction. They really are. They're good kids." The warmth in his voice was undisguised. "I should come play chaperone, too. Reserve a dance with Rahne or something."

Jim nodded. "You should. Maybe I owe her one, too, after making tea and sitting up with Scott and I last night. She's a nice girl. I'm glad the Elpis stuff is working out for her."

"She's really getting into it," Nathan said with another warm smile, wisely leaving the subject of Scott alone. "You should have seen her playing with her new laptop. And according to the database logs she's been skimming files on her own time, too."

Jim returned the smile. "I'm glad she's found something she can believe in. Everyone should have a little purpose in their lives." Noticing his cigarette was almost burned down, the younger man blinked through the trees at the line of the sun, then glanced at his watch. He gave Nathan an apologetic look. "Speaking of work, I need to go get ready for a followup in Otsego County. She hasn't been able to leave the apartment since the attack."

Morally reprehensible or not, there were times Jim was sincerely tempted to thank Forge and Marius for their respective attacks on Masque. The victims' bodies may have been restored, but the psychological damage would take months to heal. In some cases, years. Jim suspected he could look forward to another night of cathartic painting before bed.

Nathan paused, still smiling, and nodded. "I think I'll... keep walking," he said, with a wave at the opposite end of the lake. "Think about this all some more."

Jim nodded slowly, dropping the stub of his cigarette to grind into the dirt with his foot. "Take your time with it," he advised after a moment, looking up. "This isn't the kind of thing you have to rush into. Just remember: past is past."

Nathan nodded. It was good advice. "You should plan to come down to the boathouse for dinner sometime soon," he said over his shoulder as he continued down the path. "We've just about gotten the kitchen in order. I'm no Lorna, but according to Moira I'm not half-bad."

The telepath grinned slightly as he turned to leave. "Well, if Moira says it won't hurt me I guess I can trust you. Take care, Nathan."

"You too."