2008-04-17: The Fairytale

Starring:

Nathan_icon.gif Heidi_icon.gif

Summary: Heidi and Nathan discuss their respective roles in such a story.

Date It Happened: April 17th, 2008

The Fairytale


Niki's Trashed Apartment

The chair looks like it's been dragged into the room from somewhere else. Not only does it not match the decor at all, but it's also not blood-covered like everything else in the room, and it's sort of sitting right in the middle of the floor- in front of the bed - where it obviously doesn't belong. Said bed has Nathan handcuffed to it with suitably strong chains, in an effort to keep Logan from escaping.

In the misplaced chair, Heidi sits with her knees pulled up, bare feet resting on the edge of the seat. She's paging through a magazine, looking up to check on Nathan every once in awhile with a look that's a combination of anger, fear, and even hope. Even if she has this assault thing down to a dangerously efficient degree, that doesn't mean she feels the need to lock away her emotion when she doesn't need to. The serum should do something, even if Niki said it wasn't enough.

The room is cool; the window is open, as if in invitation, though it's more to air out the scent of blood and death that's lingering here. It became pretty stale after the first little while, and since Heidi finally managed to force some of those pills down Nathan's throat, there's no danger of him flying off.

Normally waking up handcuffed to a bed might mean a pleasant surprise, or a really awkward morning after. Normally being more of an egotistical piece of wishful thinking, but, that's digressing. Point is, as Nathan stirs, this isn't a pleasant realisation. Metal loops are cold and bordering on too tight around wrists, and a pounding headache is there to greet him at the first step of consciousness. Leg could be better, fabric of his pants still stained with now dried blood that matches the decor, now dried stiff and uncomfortable. Thirst, also. Mouth parting to breathe, the air tastes bitter, and his tongue unpleasantly dry.

It's like the worst of all hangovers, catch being he didn't even get to drink. Without opening his eyes, he curls a hand around to grip onto a chain of the attaching handcuff, and uses it to try and lever himself up a bit. Not even sitting, just resting his shoulderblade against the pillow, head resting on the bars of the bed head.

The shifting of a body against bedsheets and then the quiet groan is what will draw attention, Nathan's head turning instinctively towards the open window and opening his eyes. For a moment, that's all he looks at her, before one hand moves to rub at his forehead, and only gets stopped short with a rustle of metal chainlinks.

As soon as she hears noise, Heidi looks over the top of the magazine she's reading, quietly closes it, and tucks it next to her in the chair, atop the revolver that she received what seems to be forever ago. It's there out of necessity and caution; it's also a good thing she didn't take it into the closet with her earlier. Nathan would be dead.

By this time, she's starting to feel bad about that, but just a little. She wants to believe that it was necessary. If she can convince herself of that, everything else is okay. For the moment, she can tell if it's Logan waking up, or Nathan. Playing it safe, she wraps herself into that wall of detachment.

"Don't try to fly away," she cautions. "Even if you could with the bed attached to you, you'd fall like a stone anyway. Don't try to get away. Peter and Niki wouldn't let me restrain you more than you are, but I will if I have to. And, Nathan." She pauses, considering whether or not she should say this next little bit. She's been rehearsing it over and over in her mind, but the problem is, it's pretty much an empty threat. Maybe it'll sound convincing enough. "You can tell Logan that if he feels like he has to be heard, I'll kill him." And Nathan, for the record. But that goes unsaid.

She doesn't stand, though she's perched on the edge of the seat now, watching. Her eyes - bright, though undeniably fearful - are focused on Nathan. There's a bruise that starts on one cheek and spreads across the bridge of her nose, making it quite an effort to keep both eyes open at times. After a little while, she ventures a guess; "Nathan?"

Heidi's voice comes from some distant place, still watching the slice of sky he can still see with a sort of dreamlike serenity. He's not ignoring her, he's not even dismissing her words. They're all taken in. No flying. Niki and Peter. Killing Logan. Okay.

It's when she says his name that gets his head turning to look at her, still bleary from waking up out of induced unconsciousness. He's hard to read, it could be either one. Hell, it could be someone new. Maybe not Logan, actually. One might imagine he'd be hissing and spitting like a wildcat by now. His good leg bends, braces a foot against the bed, and pushes himself up to sit a little more, back curved.

"Heidi." Voice raw. Dehydration. Other things, you know.

She'll take the chance that this isn't Logan. It's been a long time since she's even looked at Nathan at all, or even been anywhere around him. Still, he's been in her thoughts almost all the god-damned time, because she's been so mad, and so frustrated, and feeling the pressing need to save him.

So she finally allows herself to leave the safety of her chair-fortress, stepping around old, dried blood and vomit on the floor so she can stand next to the bed. Warily, cautiously, she keeps herself out of range of anything that could possibly kick or grab at her, and meets his eyes. She's not sure what to say at this point, because distance has made the anticipation of this reunion wholly awkward. Heidi expected to be so pissed off that all she wanted to do was hurt him, but now…

Well, she'll just have to improvise. As she looks into his eyes in an attempt to see Nathan, she can only see the lack of focus that comes from, you know, severe pain, shock… "I…" she starts, bites her lip, seems to be on the edge of saying something profound and even memorable, before she concludes her statement with "…will be right back." And then she leaves the room.

Waking up. Pain is relative. Nathan watches her as she approaches, with all the wariness of— well. Someone in exactly his position. Where is Niki, anyway? And Peter, for that matter? Wariness diluted with that, well, severe pain and shock, but it's there, waiting for her to speak.

Which is fine, because he can study her, in all his haziness. Pale skin, dark hair, blue eyes he used to tell her were neon rather than anything romantic like the sky at high noon, or polar ice, or stormy lightning. No, neon. They glow. Sometimes they accuse. And he wasn't sure he'd be able to see them again, along with the rest of her, bruised as it is right now— did he do that?— and lost, too.

The chains rattle some when she goes to walk away, as if he has half the mind to follow her. "Wait." His voice comes surprisingly sharp, but delayed, too. She's already out the door, and he takes a shuddering breath, slumps back. The child-like fear that he'd be abandoned here keeps threatening to get in the way of rational thought.

She doesn't wait, even though she hears the voice. She's not leaving because she's uncomfortable, after all. It's for him, and Heidi thinks that maybe if she doesn't at least try to take care of him, Logan will decide that letting Nathan have the wheel isn't worth it. When she returns, it's with a glass of water.

Still standing at what she considers to be a safe distance, she weighs the consequences of getting too close with the vivid pictures in her head of what could happen. He's restrained, but Logan's resourceful. If she gives up her advantage, what's to stop him from attacking her? Killing her, even?

She closes her eyes, looks momentarily pained for a moment, before she sits down on the bed. He never said he was thirsty, but she knows. After all, when you spend so many years with a person, you tend to know what they're saying, even if they don't actually say it. So she holds the glass to his lips.

"Guess you'll want to know what happened," she says matter-of-factly. There's no smile on her face, which is pretty much expressionless, at the moment anyway.

It's awkward, and humbling, which is also awkward in itself. The being fed water, thing. But Nathan makes no complaint, mouth and throat too parched for pride, and he accepts the sip of water, eyes shutting and now unshaven throat shifting as he swallows. Head tilts back once it's done, letting out a slight sigh of relief. No 'thanks', hopefully they're a little beyond social rituals. She'll know he's grateful.

It's fleeting at best. The relief is. His eyes open again to regard her before he simply nods. Not really trusting himself to speak, because the lie might be detected. He almost doesn't want to know. The ignorance of being shielded by Logan is almost comfortable, after a while.

It's a long story to tell, and here and there, Heidi will offer him another sip of water. "I figured I'd be safer hiding," she says. "But it wasn't enough. Logan found me. Sent Jack after me… I guess I wasn't careful enough, because I thought…" Trailing off, Heidi doesn't feel the need to finish the statement. She thought she'd be safe, and she wasn't. "He broke in through the window of the hotel room, shot at me. I hid in the bathroom, but he got in."

She sets the glass of water down on the nightstand, and then reaches to pull down the collar of her shirt. There's a long gash there that's been healed over, and another red indentation that looks like an old stab wound. "Bathroom tile," she explains. "He grabbed a piece and stabbed me. I held my breath, and he went away." Playing possum, essentially. Jack reported back to Logan that Heidi was dead, and… She was safe. For a time.

"Peter hid me. After awhile, I got restless — this Peter isn't ours. He says he's from a few years in the future. He changed my face so I could go out without worrying… Nate, I missed you. I had to do something."

Finally, there's a hint of emotion on her face - reluctant sadness, if it could be called that. Nothing is going to fix what happened, but she still wants him to be okay. This all… isn't just going to go away. Picking up the glass, she holds it to his lips again.

Water is accepted easily, readily, stray drops on his lips licked away before he's blinking across the room. "Jack," Nathan sighs out, fingers curling against loose hands. "God. He— " Oh, Nathan knows what Jack did. The punishment they'd dealt each other over it almost came close to the pain of the death itself.

Easier to focus on this. Heidi's in the room, not Jack, and Nathan looks back at her, searchingly. "I'm sorry. I— I'd known that he sent— Jack. There was nothing— " The excuses are threatening to tumble out like water from a broken dam. "Nothing I could do," he finishes with, almost defeatedly. Like he knows exactly how useless they are, because if there was anything he could have done, safe to assume he would have.

We've established which one's stronger. Old news. "I'm sorry."

Heidi's done arguing about the fact that she believes Nathan can overcome this on his own. She doesn't think he can, actually, which is the entire reason she felt it necessary to give him that serum. Maybe it's worked, since this is Nathan she's talking to now, and not Logan. How much faith can she have in one person, anyway? It's not endless, that's for sure. Things as they were before… are over. Maybe that doesn't have to be said. Still, different isn't always bad.

"I know you are, Nathan," she says gently, setting down the glass, standing, retreating back to her chair. "If you want more, just let me know, okay? I can't stay over there near you." Because she's smart, because she's scared. Because she doesn't want to feel the emotional investment that comes with a simple touch, because the memories are painful, and she knows they'll never, ever be the same. She'll look back on their wedding night knowing now that he had the potential to become this. She'll wonder if Logan was always on the edge of his consciousness, or if he took over now and then without Nathan realising. She knows that she's not the only woman in Nathan's life, and may never be. She knows that he's cheated on her several times since they've been married; knows specific women, and can't even hate them because of what they did.

There's no obligation for her to even be here.

She looks away, face falling, emotion finally breaking now that she believes that it's Nathan she's talking to. Every muscle in her face is tense, eyes becoming that previously mentioned neon as they fill with tears. "I really wish I could stop loving you," she says. "I mean, it'd make this a lot easier. I tried, Nate. And I thought I'd— But I didn't. I just hate him." Logan. "And as soon as I— " He jaw clenches, light playing off skin, highlighting the edges of black and blue as it eventually relaxes. "As soon as Niki reminded me that you were in there, too…" Suddenly she looks back at him. "I'm not sorry I beat the hell out of him, but I'm sorry it had to be you, too." The words are deliberate. Had to be Nathan, not that it was an accident, or that s\he didn't know what she was doing. Quieter now, she looks at the floor and adds, "I don't want to see you like this. I kind of hoped that you'd… You know. So you could be at peace." Murder. She's talking about murder. "And for doing this to me, for making me feel that, you— deserve everything Logan gets."

That should probably ring as unfair, but at this time, Nathan has little choice but to agree. He's not sure if he does, but at the same time, he lacks the conviction to protest. Numbness on the inside, white hot pain everywhere else. He watches her lazily as she talks, without really looking at her, mostly keeping her form in his periphery so he knows what to expect.

He doesn't quite expect her words. She's stabbed Logan in the back with a steak knife not terribly long ago, but that had been Logan. This was both of them. Their mutual punishment. Seems fitting. His wrists twist within the cuffs, as if to test them, shuffling into a position more comfortable, if not actually so.

"Put a man in a cage for long enough and he stops seeing past the bars," Nathan mutters, almost too quietly. "And when he does, all he's got left is waiting. If you can do that to Logan then maybe we have a shot in hell. Otherwise, I think I'm done, Heidi." There's fear in his voice, just a trace of it. No one wants to be finished. "On the bright side you can— " He swallows, dryly, a slight shudder going through his body from— well, pick an ailment. "You can move on."

"No, I can't," she says, leaning forward on her knees, wrapping her arms around them as she sits on the chair. There's a sniffle, and she mops a black-sleeved arm across her nose. "This… isn't something I tell anyone. At all," she says, looking toward the window, toward the sky. "So don't laugh, and don't think I'm crazy. It's kinda what keeps me going.

"Me and Him…" She nods at the sky. "We argue sometimes. Well, a lot, lately. I figure I can't argue with something I don't believe in, can't be angry at something I don't believe in, so either God's really sadistic, or he's making all this happen to me for a reason. I mean, it can't be luck that I survived that crash, and it can't be luck that Jack missed my heart, that he didn't check to see if I was still alive, or that he left the rope in the window so I could get away, or that Peter found me and healed me so I didn't bleed to death. It … did something to me." Made her stronger, made her more cynical, whatever. But it made it so Heidi could deal with the world.

"Point is, I couldn't be here for you if all that hadn't happened, or if I didn't honestly believe there's some way you can get rid of that demon in your head. You can't do it on your own, but it doesn't matter that Logan's stronger, 'cuz he's only one person. You've got a whole lot of people who're fighting for you. I mean, come on. God's on your side here. You can't get much more powerful than that, right?" It sounds silly, so Heidi can't help a bit of an embarrassed chuckle. She has to believe in something, though, and throwing away her faith seems awfully lonely. "You're my best friend. S'why I married you. So as pissed off as I am at you…" As much as she wanted to beat the crap out of him not too long ago, "I'm — " She sighs, frowns. Stands, walks over to the bed. There's a guardedness to her posture; she's not giving Logan an inch, but she's watching Nathan's eyes. "Even if you and I are…" Over. "I'm always gonna be there for you."

But. There's always a 'but.'

"I've never hated before, Nate, and I do now." She doesn't have to say how much it hurts, since that's pretty evident on her face. After a long pause where she just stares at him, Heidi suddenly breaks into a smile, though it's sad. Detached. "Do you want another shot with me?"

For a politician and an adequate liar, Nathan always had trouble with the poker face side of things, and he's not even trying anymore. Heidi can still read that fear, of the future and how it might end, and of course exhaustion. She speaks of multiple people, of God, and yet sometimes it seems like the entire world is made up of himself and Logan. That nothing else matters, can intervene, save for quick stabs of a knife or a needle.

Which makes him think there is no separation after all. Maybe he went insane. So that's why, when he gives Heidi his own detached, slightly tearful smile, he says, "I can't make promises. Not even to myself." But she wasn't asking for a guarantee, was she? "I want everything back. I want you. My family." His daughter, too, but that seems and even more gigantic hurdle, one he doesn't even have a right to contemplate. Speaking of which, "And I don't deserve it."

He darts a gaze around the wrecked room, the bullet holes in the wall, the blood spatters. Nathan jerks once at his chains. "If this doesn't work?" he says, voice wavering. "Then no. I can't afford another shot with you."

For a moment, it looks as if she might reach out to him, but she never even stretches her hand toward him, because, again, there's so much pain in what could be an innocent touch. A small glimmer of tomorrow in some fairy tale that might never come true. So she meets his eyes only, and that will have to be the only contact between them for now.

"Maybe that's the problem," Heidi says with a shrug. "You keep convincing yourself that you don't deserve to be happy, and Logan just… takes what you won't." It's accusing, in a way, but she's trying to help. "I can't tell you how you're gonna get through this. I don't know if he's still in there, or if— " It's like a giant tug of war. If they can get all the right people on the right side of the rope at the same time, they have an easy chance at winning. That includes Nathan, though. "If you want it, you have to believe you deserve it."

Leaning against the wall nearby, she looks toward the chair where she was sitting. The floor's disgusting, but it's almost part of the decor by now. Easy to overlook. "When I was little, all the kids in the neighborhood were boys. I'm not kidding. I was the only girl for at least a mile. Anyway, it was kind of farmland, and they liked to play… Camelot. They were the knights, and they wanted to save the damsel in distress from the dragon. Since I was the only girl, naturally… I got to be the dragon."

He expels a sigh as she walks away, to go lean against a wall, and Nathan looks away as well. His head rests back against the bars of the bed, and tries to relax his arms before they can cramp. Being forty-one has its downfalls, like being unable to stay chained to a bed for very long without twinges and aches. Didn't think he'd be finding that one out at any time soon, for better or for worse.

Story time. He says nothing, head still tilted and rested back, eyes half shut, although now he angles enough to cast her an inquiring look. No speaking still, just a raised eyebrow. As if to say, figured you'd be the damsel.

The look is returned. Small bit of humour on her face, but it's there. "Yeah, they had something against the name Adelheid, I guess. Besides, we were all like… Seven and eight. Boys still had cooties. So there was this old horse that got to be the princess." She shrugs, frowns. "I kinda got tired of people telling me who I had to be. And I mean, I was young, so I never really thought anything about it, I was just the dragon with the weird-ass name no one could pronounce. So what, right? Then I met you."

Playing with her fingers, she looks down at the floor again, almost shyly. "I got to be the princess for once. Y'know, you took care of me, and — we were happy — I don't want to be this way anymore. I don't want to find a bat in someone's closet and think, 'You know, this would be great to beat someone over the head with.' I don't… Even know if you'll remember any of this later. I want to feel sorry about this one day. I want to cry on your shoulder, even if we— Even if there's just a small chance to be us again."

It would be nice if he could hold her. It would also be nice if he could want to hold her without feeling like the other dragon in the room would rouse from whatever slumber he's in now, if he's even in one at all. Fleeting glances at the wardrobe mirror had held nothing, but Nathan can't tell anymore. How truthful are mirrors, anyway?

"Try being the damsel in distress and the dragon," he says somewhat dryly, because it's easier to backtalk than to be honest, but such a defense mechanism doesn't hold out. "I miss you. And I'm scared that— even when and if this is all over, I won't— be that to you anymore. You'll always be wondering who you're looking at, if it's safe to leave me alone with the kids, if there's ever gonna be a moment where you know everything is okay."

Laughter, of all inappropriate things, just a breath of a defeated chuckle as he lets his gaze tip up towards the ceiling again. His voice is subdued as he speaks honestly, painfully, a little broken in places. "You'd think that with— these powers, with what Pete and all the others can do, what I can do, with what the world's turned out to be, you'd think I'd get a hint on how to be a hero. Figured it's a lot like being a good father, husband. A good man. I'm not sure I fit in with the fairytale ending, baby. Doesn't matter what I deserve, it's what you deserve."

It seems they agree on that point, at least. Heidi is terrified. It's in her posture, in the way she looks at him and hesitates to even touch him. "Well. There's never going to be that moment where we run into each other's arms on a grassy field," she says wistfully. "Sun setting, if you want." They're never going to have that happy reunion, because he's right. Heidi will always wonder, even as she wonders now if Logan's managed to hide who he is from her. She could tell before, but he must learn.

But… For better or for worse, right? Heidi doesn't say it, because she cynically believes that Nathan has no idea what a vow is. That's a whole other point of contention between them, though. She still follows it, though, as best she can. "Nate, I don't… I don't even know what happened to the kids," she admits quietly, with a tension in her voice that seems as if it's about to break.

Piercing eyes turn to him as he laughs, narrowing, watching for some sign that this is someone else. Baby. Nathan doesn't call her that, so she's… suspicious, which means he's one hundred percent right. Maybe this can't work out.

Doesn't matter who she's talking to. She just talks. "I miss you, too." Her face relaxes again. "And you're right. I'll always wonder. Hell, I'm wondering right now. I can't trust you. I can't even begin to think of a time at some point in the future when I'll be able to." It seems like there should be more to that, but this time there's no 'but.' No words of encouragement. Just cold fact, filled with anger and resentment and tears. "I want Nathan back. That's what I deserve. After all the work I put in, I deserve that."

Every fibre of his being seems to prickle to alertness and attention at the idea of not knowing about the kids, but. He'd rather not feel more helpless than he already is. Logically they should be hidden, and should stay hidden.

God, what if they saw him now? That's enough to break him so he hastily steers away from the topic altogether, taking a shuddering, pain-filled breath. His leg is aching more and more as blood flows through it, there's something wrong about it beyond damage. Nathan nods, quietly, to Heidi's words.

Okay. Get Nathan back. Whoever the hell it is. She speaks of him like he's not even there, as if maybe he did after all slip back into the Logan identity and there was no difference to begin with. Voice rawer than it was before, he opts to speak again. "I need a drink," he requests, gently, then shakes his head. "Not water. Just— a drink. Please. It hurts."

Heidi should call her mother. It's amazing how easily she can make shit up now, and she's been planning on a cover for all of this so she can get Simon and Monty back. It's complicated. It'll take time. And she's not even sure she'd be seen as a fit mother at the moment, but she couldn't risk contacting them. If anyone knew she was alive, Logan would find out eventually.

Maybe if Nathan can't tell the difference, he's coming together already. That's almost too much to hope for.

The idea of going through Niki's apartment isn't particularly appealing, but since they're all wonderful friends now, Heidi only gives a moment's hesitation before she nods. Wanders away again in order to find something a little stronger. She can't heal, and she's not even charitable enough to try to make him feel better. This is what you get when you don't control that monster, Nathan. It's what you get — it's not fair for her to think that way, but it's hard not to.

Returning with a glass full of something not water, Heidi hesitates once again before she gets close enough to give it to him. Finally, she sits down next to Nathan, holding the glass out toward his lips. "This isn't going to help forever, you know."

"Nothing does," Nathan concedes, before he's readily accepting the drink. Not quite a painkiller, it still has its dulling effects. It'll encourage sleep, perhaps. The burning liquid is down professionally for as long as Heidi tips the glass, and he lets out a sigh. Relief. The most sign of it. When he sits back, it's with a lot more looseness than before, wrists slack in their bindings and body almost uncomfortable. His injured leg still rests straight and rigid against the bed, while the other curls slightly at the knee. "I love you," he says, barely audible. Just a breath. His eyes shut. "I want you to be happy."

You have to take relief where you can get it, Heidi supposes. After she found out that Logan existed, she went and got herself drunk. Funny story, that.

When the glass is mostly empty, she sets it on the nightstand. Thinking twice, she picks it up and places it on the floor, out of Logan's reach. It's a weapon in waiting.

She doesn't immediately stand up this time, even though it's hard to remain seated. Niki's words clash with Nathan's… In the car before the accident, he told her not to trust Logan… But Niki just reminded her that, no matter what, Nathan's still in there. Reaching out, ignoring the slight rattle of heavy chains, she curls her fingers in his. When did she start thinking of affection as weakness? "Yeah, I — Yeah, I know you do." There's a pause where she considers, but something about saying 'I love you' back to him seems wrong, so the contact will have to do.

And just as she anticipated, it hurts.

He doesn't wait for an I love you back. His fingers curl in tandem with her's. Always the risk of someone else moving that hand, to crush or break or grab. For now, however, they're afforded some peace, and Nathan simply tangles his hand loosely with her's for as long as it remains.

Even when he's breathing deeper than he would when conscious, when he allows that one glass of alcohol to warmly pulling down along with the pain, his grip doesn't slacken.

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