2007-08-24: DF: Down This Path


DFNathanReal_icon.gif DFCyprus_icon.gif

Summary: The wheels are in motion. Can you ride your bike with no handlebars?

Dark Future Date: August 24th, 2009

Down This Path

Another Undisclosed Government Facility

The best part of being in an undisclosed government facility may just be the privacy there. Also? Office space. Cyprus looks more at ease in this office, having already commandeered it to his use, than he has in days. By the way everything is in the proper place, it would not be a far stretch to imagine that he is overcompensating somehow. For the moment, he is speaking into the hardline, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and giving a weary smile. "Yes, you have a full expense account, Margie," he says simply. "It's the President of France's inaugural celebration. And don't worry about coming back quickly. I know you've always wanted to go to Paris, Margie. Take a month's sabbatical. No, don't worry about it. No, really. Yes, I'm serious." There's a bit of a pause, and Cyprus shakes his head. "Pick me up something nice, while you're there. Bye, Margie." And with that, he hangs up. And turns his attention towards the next folder.

The man that enters the office doesn't really resemble the President that had been handing Cyprus orders over the past year. It's not as though Logan never wore casual clothes, but these along with the slightly sick and far more subdued demeanor Nathan is sporting would make someone double-check that this is in fact the current President of the United States. That, and he's not flanked by any guards, not even outside, although this may be due to the nature of the building. A slightly fuzzy gaze is drawn to the folders Cyprus is working on, and Nathan shuts the door behind him - a little fumbly, as if his small motor functions could be better. Seeming more tired than actually drugged, but should Cyprus do his diagnosis, it's clear that Nathan is sedated in some way. "Revolutions take a lot of forms to fill out?" he asks wryly, moving further inside as he pulls his jacket around him.

When doesn't Cyprus do his diagnosis? He glances up once Nathan enters, and narrows his gaze for a moment before relaxing. He clears his throat, and nods. "Moving the camps requires a great deal of logistics," Cyprus says quietly. "And I cannot trust anyone else to get the important jobs done. Or, rather, I'd prefer to not take the risk." He frowns just slightly, and continues to watch Nathan. He closes the folder he was working on, and sets it aside. He pulls a different one, and places it on the desk, towards Nathan. "Mr. Derex's prognosis," he says. "It's good. His leg is healing… as best as could be expected, and there was no lasting neurological damage from… our confrontation."

Nathan approaches the desk, leaning just enough so he can rest a hand on it, other hand pushing the pages closer towards him. "As long as he's getting some form of medical help," he says, then glances around. Chair. Sitting down would be outstanding. The one pushed to the side is dragged closer, and Nathan settles himself into it. "But I'd like a second opinion. I don't have the connections that," he lifts a hand, taps his fingertips against his own temple, "he has with Level 5. It'd be wonderful if you can tell those in charge that the President wants the terrorist transferred to a proper hospital for further work on that leg of his. Tomorrow."

For a second, Cyprus narrows his gaze on Nathan, head canting to the side as if confused. And then, it becomes clear. He takes a bit of a breath, then glances down at the folder he handed Nathan. "I can arrange for it, of course," he says simply. "Getting it all squared away and approved of by tomorrow may be a little difficult, but it's nothing outside our ability." There is a pause there, and Cyprus lifts his head to regard Nathan square on. "So, it's still there, isn't it? The you who.. did all this to the world?"

Nathan gently closes the folder to Jack's prognosis, pushing it back towards Cyprus for the man to put away as he sees fit, but he meets the man's eyes at that question, gaze sharper for just a second. "Yeah," he says, shortly, and gives Cyprus a weak, detached smile. "There's a drug - or a combination - that I've been trying out. Surprisingly heavy handed if you take it every day, but it gets the job done. Quick fix." A pause. "I don't think it's going to go away." He lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck. "The hospital and the transport will be provided courtesy of the President's own personal security. Just say he's taking a special interest."

Cyprus regards Nathan evenly across the desk. He doesn't glance down to the folder, nor does he smile back. There just seems to be some kind of measuring going on, some kind of weighing. Finally, he says "Once we begin this path, Nathan, there is no turning back. I… I believe Mr. Derex is the right man for the job. But once we start on this course… it cannot be allowed to stop. And there will be blood." Because Cyprus states the obvious. It's his job. And he's not flinching from this at all. He waits a moment, before asking, "Do we walk this path, sir?"

"Did you not make that choice already?" Nathan asks, gaze lowering briefly to the edges of the desk, where four fingers from one hand rest against it, three from the other. While he seems subdued, if by the drug or simply his experiences, his voice still holds accusation, tempered with resignation. "Jack told me you spoke to him already. He believes it's the only way."

"He was a man locked in a cell that might not get opened," says Cyprus quietly. "That was merely seeing if it was feasible. Hedging our bets. If what you tell me is correct, and the other can come back? Then Plan A cannot be accomplished. But there are always alternatives, sir." He takes a deep breath, and shakes his head. "Jack asked me if I had the constitution to see this through, Nathan. The truth is… I don't know. But once we begin, I will make it so it will not matter anymore. That what is necessary, will happen. We can still turn back, Nathan. But once we /truly/ begin, we cannot afford to stop. Because that /will/ destroy this nation."

"Once we begin this path, Cyprus, it will be out of our hands," Nathan says, simply. "Stamina or not, it will be down to Jack, down to people wanting to follow him, to see it through. Best I'm hoping for is seeing out my days in a psych ward. I should have been somewhere like that a long time ago." He sits back in his chair, looking at Cyprus, almost openly vulnerable - but pitying, as well. Different to Logan, but a stark contrast to the man he used to be before the split as well. "There's alternatives, maybe, but you can consider the wheels already in motion. Jack wasn't just groping for the way out, he knows what has to be done. He's been doing it for the last year. We just have to make it easier, now."

"Then don't worry, sir," says Cyprus with a nod. "Everything shall be as it needs to be." He takes a bit of a deep breath, and glances down at his folders. He makes sure they are all in place, as if anticipating the day each one will be used against him. He's a lawyer, after all. He knows what happens when you document your crimes. He looks back up to Nathan once everything is in place. He regards him evenly in silence, and finally says, "I think… your father would be proud of you, for this, Nathan."

He wants to be cynical. He wants to shrug it off. But that tiny bit of egoism and that loyalty to the crooked defense lawyer his brother had so much conflict with won't let him, and Nathan's gaze lowers again at Cyprus's statement. "It would be about time," he says, with a mirthless twist of a smile, but he inclines his head in a sort of gesture that he appreciates the sentiment. "We might not exactly be painted as brave when they look back on this administration, but this isn't easy. Thanks for…" He wasn't ever really good at this kind of thing, and still isn't. "…let's leave it at thanks." Nathan pushes himself to stand up, swaying back onto his heels, but otherwise steady. "Last thing's last, I'd like a press conference arranged, this week, sometime after Jack's been— transferred."

Cyprus nods once. "It'll be arranged," says the aide simply. Loyal to the end, it would seem. "The one good thing about the way history will see us, sir? We won't be around to know." And with that dash of fatalism, Cyprus pulls a few folders, and goes back to work. It seems he is confident that Nathan has other things to do than watch him be a bureaucrat.

Morbid. Almost unbalancingly so, but Cyprus has gone back to work. That's loyalty for you. Nathan steers his way back around the chair, out the room, and in the hallway, it seems he has more room to breathe. Odd how much you realise you have to live for when you plan to throw everything a way. Too late. Wheels in motion. It's probably the drug. Shaking his head to clear it, Nathan moves through the facility and away from the office spaces, where people work to see this to the end, unknowingly or not..

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