The X-Project

Amanda brings her Arabic translation to the medlab with her in hopes of distracting Nathan, and winds up being the latest person to be pleasantly surprised by his much-improved mental state.


Amanda headed towards Nathan's room, Arabic text tucked under her arm. She figured she could study and distract Nathan at the same time - she had translation to do, more of the romantic poetry al Rashid seemed to favour lately. Getting regular sex did scary things to his brain, it seemed. Knocking lightly on the doorframe as she usually did, she called out, hoping for something more than the usual flat response. Moira had said the ceiling project had lifted his spirits somewhat - Amanda just hoped it was true. It was breaking her heart to see him so lifeless.

"Hey, old man," she called. "Time for yer daily dose of trouble."

Nathan had been dozing, as he still tended to do more often than not, even with considerably lower levels of painkillers in his system that there had been even a couple of days ago. Amanda's voice drew him back out of it, though, and he opened his eyes, smiling faintly when the first thing he saw was Terry's IOU for one martini.

"Come on in," he called back, his voice hoarse but fairly clear, much clearer than it had been. "Still right where you left me, surprise..."

"Time enough for dramatic escapes later. I'll help," she said, coming in and taking a seat in the well-used chair beside the bed. The first thing she did was reach for his hand - it felt warmer, a little less lifeless today. "Did I wake you? 'M sorry."

He squeezed her hand. "Sleeping too much anyway," he murmured, glad when she moved into his field of vision. "My brain is going to rot. All this new visual stimulae aside..." His gaze strayed back up to the ceiling, and he smiled a little, again, this time at the picture of Bella sitting on Joyita's head.

A smile of her own crossed Amanda's face at the look and sound of him. "Well, considerin' you usually don't sleep that much, maybe it's yer body playin' catch up." She followed his glance and grinned. "That shrink of yers is a very clever bloke - I can't believe we didn't think of it. An' if yer brain needs more stimulatin', I've got Arabic study t' do. You can correct me on me translation, if you want."

"Jack is very devious. Also very persistent." Nathan's gaze drifted over the ceiling for a moment more before focusing again on her, his gray eyes weary but calm. "What's Haroun tormenting you with this week?"

"More romantic poetry - his brain's turned t' mush, I swear..." Amanda smiled again as he actually looked at her - he hadn't done a lot of that over the past week either, and that had hurt. "An' with exams comin' up an' all, he's loadin' on the practice. Not as good a teacher as you, for all he's a native speaker."

"Oh... flattery." It should be telling, that smiling felt a little unnatural... rusty, almost. "Still angling for that pony. Aren't you? I see right through you..."

"You do? Damn, knew I shouldn't have been messin' with the invisibility spell before I came down." She chuckled, squeezing his hand lightly. "An' you shouldn't go promisin' ponies all willy nilly like that. Gettin' a girl's hopes up..."

"Flustered," Nathan murmured wryly. "I was all flustered, and you're never going to let me live it down... that's okay, though." His attention was drawn back to the ceiling again. "Let me guess," he said, imagining kicking his brain back into something approaching normal activity. "He's got you reading Al-Mutanabbi or something..."

Amanda wrinkled her nose. "How'd you guess> No, wait, this is al Rashid we're talkin' about - of course it's Al-Mutanabbi." She didn't reach for the book she'd laid on the bedside cabinet, not just yet, though - she was enjoying talking to Nathan in a more normal way. "So, did you like yer surprise? Was a bastard of a job t' get everythin' t' stay up there. McCoy had t' break out the top secret sticky stuff."

"I liked it. And it was a surprise... a total surprise." Nathan wrinkled his nose a little. "You waggled your fingers at me, didn't you? I slept too well... no dreams."

She blushed a little and looked down guiltily. "Was the only way we could think of t' make it a proper surprise," she said, her voice not entirely apologetic. "An' Moira agreed you needed some decent sleep." Looking up again, she grinned mischievously. "Not my fault you're a sucker for the sleep spell. Didn't hardly have t' nudge you or anythin'."

"Didn't mind not having the dreams for a little bit. They're not as bad as they were... just so sad, though." His expression was shadowed, but his eyes were still clear, if bright with pain for a moment. The dull, broken apathy was nowhere in evidence.

Amanda nodded, not really knowing what to say. "I went up there, t' where the memorial stone is," she said at last, her tone quiet and contemplative. "It didn't feel right t' me, bein' there with everyone else. Goodbyes are private, y'know? It's a nice spot they picked - maybe I could go again some time, let you hitch a ride in me head so you could see it without all the rest of it?"

He focused on her again, squeezing her hand. "Might just take you up on that," he murmured. "I picked the epitaph, you know. 'Go tell the Spartans'..."

"It sounded like one of yers." Amanda shifted, trying to get closer despite the traction rig in the way. "Bloody thing," she growled. It messed with the healing too, made it hard to concentrate. "But yeah, I don't mind. I'd like to. You weren't... well, you weren't exactly in the frame of mind t' take up the offer last week. Not that I blame you at all." She fumbled for words, knowing she was probably messing this up - death was something she'd only been acquainted with in terms of people dying she wanted dead, like Rack. Or stupidly, like her friend Kate dying of an overdose. She'd been more angry with her than sad, in the end. "I wish there was somethin' I could do," she finished lamely.

"You're doing it. Not just the healing... although you have no idea how glad I am that it means I'll only be stuck like this for three or four weeks, instead of eight. Or twelve." He let his breath out on a sigh that was a little ragged, more due to weariness than the way his ribs were still complaining. "Helps, just you being here. It helped even when I couldn't come back far enough to talk to you..." He trailed off, part of him wondering at just how odd that sounded. But it was the best way to describe how he'd felt - and still felt, at least in fits and starts.

She nodded. It made sense to her - she remembered Mexico, and Rack, and fragments of a dream. Nate holding onto to her, not letting her go any further. "You know me," she said simply. "Always pushin' meself t' do more." She let go of his hand, reaching over for the Arabic book she'd brought. "Ready for me horrible Arabic accent?" she asked brightly. It was a subject change, yes, but one she thought he'd let her get away with - they'd said what needed to be said, after all. And he knew her as well as she knew him.

"Fire away. Although you know I'm going to be irritating and make you figure out your mistakes on your own." He smiled up at the picture of the two of them bent over a chessboard; Moira had taken that one, he thought. "I'm like that."