You Should Have Let Me Die (Natey)

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse didn't fear much. What he did fear, however, tended to plague his dreams. Over and over, he'd dreamed in cycles, mourning Gabriel's death time and time again. Being shot never seemed to register. Even the fight seemed like it had happened years ago. Not once did his dreams relent and let him feel the satisfying sting of revenge met, Kilbourne's blood spilled. No, instead he dreamed about Gabriel. About his death. About being abandoned by his mentor. In his own way, even subconciously, he was still mourning his death. If only he had died that day. Then perhaps he'd have been spared this.

Even unconcious, he cried. It was nothing but silent tears marching down his cheeks. Had anyone questioned it, it might have been shrugged off as a reflex to the pain in his abdomen. Of course, big boys didn't cry.

Jesse didn't cry.

When he finally awoke from his unconcious state, he didn't recognize where he was. He was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. It definately wasn't the compound, which made him sit up quickly. The blood rush made him dizzy, and he pressed a hand to his head. When the room stopped spinning, he managed to take a good look around. It looked like a normal bedroom, but something was off. It looked like medical instruments were littered around the room. That was odd. Why would there be medical things in a house?

He just wanted to know where he was. Why he was in a strange house. The thought crossed his mind that the twins had taken him somewhere, but he couldn't begin to guess where. Gingerly, he touched his stomach. Where he last remembered blood and pain was now an ugly mess of healing skin.

Holy mother of -

He was with Max. It had to be Max. He didn't know of any other healers. Unless Hammel had captured him and put him in some God forsaken place. His heart began to pound, and his head started spinning again. This was not good. This was so far from good.

He didn't even notice the massive Mastiff mix snoozing on the end of his bed. Gambit's presence would have made this whole thing slightly more tolerable. But for now? He just wanted to get out of there. Get back to the compound, to the twins. Now.

[Nathanael Lee]

The twins had gone quickly, leaving Nate alone to fix their problem. After he had removed all the foreign artifacts from Jesse's body during his impromptu surgery, he had used his power to heal anything that needed immediate attention. With what little energy he had remaining, he carried the kid upstairs to his guest room, leaving him there as he stumbled off to his own bed. He was surprised (and slightly disappointed) to find that the boy was still alive the next day.

He had taken the last few weeks off of work--something he hesitated to do at a new job--but it was necessary so that he could keep an eye on the kid. He had told the radio station that it was a family emergency, that one of his relatives was in critical condition. That had been enough to get time off. Plus, it wasn't completely untrue; Jesse was in critical condition.

Over that period of time, he had gone to work repairing what he could of the boy's shredded midsection.

When Nate wasn't treating the wound--he had to work on it in steps, he couldn't heal the entire thing in one go--he was passed out himself. The amount of energy it took for him to coax the boy's body into better health was enormous, and it didn't help that it seemed to work against him. In addition to sleeping more than usual, he had become a voracious eater. That, plus the money he spent on Jesse, had increased his expenses tenfold. The kid hadn't been there very long and he was already costing him a fortune. Brat.

And don't even get him started on that dog.

As he entered the guestroom to check on his patient, Nathan yelled, "GAMBIT, GET OFF THE BED!" He didn't need to look to know the mastiff was snoozing there, he always was. Nate froze, however, when he saw that Jesse was sitting up, finally awake.

"Good morning, Starshine," he greeted the boy flatly, sliding into the room and approaching the bed. "You should lay down before you pass out again. Your body still needs time to recuperate." It had been a while since the twins brought Jesse to him, but blood loss was blood loss. Since he didn't have any blood packs laying around (not to mention IV hooks, tubing, needles, and other equipment he would have required to do a transfusion), the boy had to get new blood the hard way. Even with biomanipulation to help boost the rate of cell production, that still took time and energy. From both parties. Nate could only do so much at a time.

[Jesse Adams]

Had Jesse been aware of any of the treatment he’d already received in order to save his life, his irrational fear of the older man might have increased just a tad. Being touched, particularly by people he didn’t like, set him off enough. It was a good thing he’d been unconscious for the entire thing.

At least, up until this point.

And don’t expect him to be grateful for all the time off Nate’s had to take, nor the money that’s been spent. He won’t be.

Gambit lifted his head and flicked his ears, giving a rumbling grumble to the man that was not his master. He wasn’t about to leave his master’s side, going so far as to give the former operative a warning look before laying his head back down on the bed.

And then Jesse was up.

He shot Max a look, gripping the bed in a pitiful, but defensive manner. Gambit was more alert now, his ears back and a growl rumbling in his throat. He was protective of his former master’s protégé, and was obviously prepared to enforce that protective urge. Jesse wasn’t about to stop him, either. Not if it would keep the doctor away from him.

“Shut up,” he snapped, pooling the blankets around him. Despite being dressed in a t-shirt and pyjama pants he’d never seen before, he felt naked. He didn’t want to lie down, he wanted to go home. Back to the twins, the compound. Where he belonged. Even without Gabe, they could continue his work. They could do great things. If he could just get back there.

“Get away from me. And don’t call me that.” The last thing he wanted was a pet name from Max. “I’m taking Gambit and I’m going home.”

Of course, anemia and standing up quickly rarely merged well. One moment Jesse was on his feet, the next he was back on the bed, with Gambit licking his arm. Irritated, he pushed the mastiff’s head away and glared up at Max. “The fuck did you do to me? And why the fuck am I here?” Much like a toddler not getting his way, he yanked his arm away from the dog’s tongue and crossed them over his chest. “Take me back to the compound. Now.”

Oh Nate. Have fun.

[Nathanael Lee]

Nate stopped when Gambit growled at him and sneered at the animal. He was use to the dog disobeying him--that even happened when he lived at the compound, and it certainly happened in his own home--but he was not use to being threatened like that. He did not approve of it. "Shut it, mutt. This is my house," he growled back, asserting his dominance.

Part of his anger stemmed from his inability to control the animal, the other came from all the dog fur that was being left on his furniture. The new livingroom couch--which had just been replaced because a certain someone had bled all over it--was clinging to all the dark fur that had accumulated on the first floor. Had the former doctor been able to clean it up, he would have, but he didn't have time for that anymore. Thanks to Jesse. Those two worked well together when it came to running Nate into the ground.

He turned his glare to look at the kid next. "You too. I don't need any shit from you either." As far as he was concerned, the kid was just a guest in his home until he recovered.

Starshine? A pet name? That's a laugh. Nate had aimed for it to be an insult, and his mouth twisted up in a pleased grin when the boy disputed it. "I would love nothing more to get rid of you, but unless you are referring to that shithole they call Hammel, you don't have a home to go back to."

He rolled his eyes as the boy teetered and fell back on his bed. "Dumbass, what did I say?" The day that Jesse actually listened to him without complaining would be the day the world ends. "Anyway, stop cussing at me. You wouldn't be alive right now if I hadn't saved you. Those twins dumped you here." Funny how 'forced' and 'at gunpoint' didn't make it into that statement, not that he thought the kid cared about why he did what he did. He just had this habit of trying to make himself look better than he actually was.

[Jesse Adams]

Gambit didn’t exactly approve of Nathan’s supposed ‘threats’ against his master. The problem was, his only way to voice that was growling. With Gabriel gone, the dog had aligned his loyalties with his protégé, and he was apparently going to protect him. He stared at Nathan, unsure of the command, before putting his head back down. Nathan: 1, Gambit: 0.

... Unless you counted the dog fur. Then it was more like Nathan: 1, Gambit: 10,000.

If Jesse had any say about it, there would be a lot more fur left on a lot more pieces of furniture, if he knew just how much Nathan really hated it.

“Don’t yell at my dog,” Jesse hissed at him. “Or I’ll tell him to piss on your carpet.” Not that the dog would listen to such an exact command, but he definitely knew what ‘Go pee’ meant.

He would have been happy to up and leave at that point, but something made him pause, and it wasn’t just the general feeling of exhaustion and dizziness. It was what Max said. He glanced up, regretting the fast motion. “What the fuck do you mean?” What happened to the compound? The twins? “Take me back to the compound, shit head. Now.” He was in no position to be making demands, but he was doing so anyway. He needed to go home. He needed to see Reese, Lala. The others.

... He was lying. He had to be lying. Lala and Reese would never do that. He shook his head, balling his hands in the blankets. “No,” he managed. “No. They wouldn’t do that.” He didn’t sound so sure now. “Just take me back.” Beside him, Gambit crawled further up the bed and stuck his head in Jesse’s lap. This time the teenager stroked the dog. “Stop lying to me and take. Me. Back.”

[Nathanael Lee]

Nathan snorted as the dog calmed, glaring again as Jesse defended him. "If that mongrel leaves so much as a tinkle on my carpet, I'm taking it straight to the pound," he snapped back, "And not one of those sanctuary ones. The kind that practices euthanasia." Hopefully that would shut him up. Or get him shouting even louder. Nate didn't really think the threat through.

He laughed at the boy's ignorance, amused by his anger. "Watch your temper, kid. It's not gonna get you anywhere," he said with a smirk, before adding, "That place doesn't exist anymore, it got blown sky high." He had heard the news about the bomb, the explosion, the mansion in flames. There wasn't much left other than it's burnt remains. Nate wasn't sure who exactly was responsible, but he had a good idea that it was the twins acting under Gabriel's last wishes. Wasn't that just like them? All of them?

"As for your precious Lala and Reese, they left the country the night they ditched you with me. You're stuck here now." He grinned, taking pleasure in knowing that the boy would hate hearing it, even if he didn't believe him. "Not that I'm okay with that. As soon as you're better, you need to find another place to live. Your family, New York, the Appalachians, Mexico. I don't care. Just not here, this arrangement is only temporary." He walked over to the bedside table, open the drawer, and pulled out a folder. Nate tossed the file at the kids lap and looked down at him. "In the mean time, I got you a present."

"Oh, yeah. One more thing," he picked a small, crinkled note up off of the table and held it out to the boy. "This was on Gambit when I found him. Pretty sure it's for you." If that wouldn't convince Jesse that he was telling the truth, he wasn't sure what would.

[Jesse Adams]

Pound? Oh no. No no no. Gambit was not going to the goddamned pound. Jesse glared up at Max, the idea of defending his dog (yes, his) overruling his fear of the former doctor. “Take him to the pound and I’ll kill you dead.” Eloquent, he was not, but he got his point across. He was a good shot. And he was positive the twins wouldn’t have left him defenceless. His gun had to be close at hand. Somewhere. “Or I’ll scramble your memories.” It was an idle threat, but he meant it all the same.

The teenager’s temper flared as his former comrade teased him. It wasn’t funny. Sure, Gabriel had been teaching him to rein in his anger, at least on the surface. But this wasn’t the time for petty acting lessons. He was pissed off, and he wanted Max to know it. He had to be lying. “Stop it,” he growled. “Stop lying.” The compound couldn’t be gone. The thing was a fortress. And no one knew what it was for. No one on the outside could have done it.

... Maybe he was just in denial.

Stuck? With Max? No. Jesse recoiled like he’d been stricken, and wound his arms around Gambit. It made sense, sort of. But why would the twins leave him? Unless they’d considered him a liability. ... Why hadn’t everyone just left him alone and let him bleed out? It would have been easier. “Fuck you,” he muttered, not looking at Max. “Like I’d want to stay here.” The problem was, he was damn sure he didn’t want to go back to LA. And there was no way he was going back to Hammel. Like it or not... Max was probably the closest thing he had to a friend nearby now.

... That thought alone made him want to retch.

Thankfully, the file distracted him from doing such a thing, and out of sheer curiosity, he pawed it open. Inside were numerous documents. But the name didn’t make sense to him. “... Who the fuck is ‘Kenneth Lee’?” Leaving that question with Max, he picked up the note. He read it several times. Portuguese was one language apart from German he’s taken a keen interest in, only because it meant he could understand Reese and Lala. The more he read it, the more it formed into its loose translation.

His heart sank. The twins were gone.

And goddamn it, he was not crying. It was just... dust in his eye.

[Nathanael Lee]

The continued spouting of threats just made Nathan scoff at his houseguest. “Right, we’ll just see how well you get along without me to take care of you. Here’s a hint: the results wouldn’t work out in your favor.” Forget the fact that Nate was providing him food and shelter, there was still plenty of healing to be done. Jesse couldn’t even stand on his own yet. Not to mention other things. “In a state like this, how long do you think it’ll take for that school to find you? A week? A day? You wouldn’t last.” And God only knows what would happen if Hammel got their hands on the boy.

As Jesse threw another fit, Nate stood by his bedside unfazed. He didn’t like it any more than the kid did. Even less, really. They were both forced into this situation, but the former doctor was the one to pay for it. Monetarily. Besides, there was still more to come.

He could barely contain his laugh as Jesse explored the file, his smirk growing ever more devious as the papers inside were turned and shuffled about. "You'll find everything you need in that folder. Even working papers," he said, walking to the end of the bed. "I expect you to get a job so you can pay for the couch you ruined, and that dog. I'm not wasting my money on it. Or you." He turned around to face the boy and smirked. "Do I make myself clear, Kenny?" Oh this was too much fun.

But the tears. The tears made his smile fall into a straight line. He was having fun tormenting the kid, but whenever Jesse got like this, he knew it really meant something. Nate sat down on the bed, speaking with more sincerity than attitude. “You can’t call me Max anymore. Not in public at the very least, and not when other people are around. My name is Nathanael Lee. Nathan or Nate, if you’d like.” Then his sadistic grin reappeared. “I’m a DJ now, not a doctor. And for as long as you are here, you are going to be my son. How’s that sound?”

He was looking forward to the angry blow-up to come.

[Jesse Adams]

“I don’t need you.” He would have even argued that with the twins. The difference was, he could tolerate the twins. He would have liked living with them like this. But Max? Max was a different case entirely. He didn’t want to be healed, he didn’t want to be provided anything by him. Of course, he wasn’t exactly in a state to argue that. He knew it too, particularly when Hammel was brought up. “Fuck them. I’m not going back.” If the choice honestly came down to Hammel or Max...

He might as well get comfortable.

Everything he’d need? Including... oh hell no, he wasn’t getting a job. He was about to protest when it finally hit him. Kenny. This was... his name? He swallowed, reading over the papers again. Kenneth Maxwell Lee. ... Maxwell? He glared daggers at Max. He wasn’t even close to amused. “I’m not paying for anything of yours,” he snarled. “And you couldn’t have picked a better name?” Kenneth. It made him shudder. It was so... not him. And Maxwell?

He was getting that retch-y feeling again.

As Max sat down, he instinctively flinched away. Gambit, having decided that the threat was over, leaned over to drool on Max’s arm. It was small, but it made Jesse smile. Enough to pretend he wasn’t really crying in the first place. At least he was listening quietly. Max, no, Nate’s, new name made him snort and rub his face against his shirt. “What kind of gay name is Nathanael?” It was enough to put him back into his usual mode of operation. Enough to make him react appropriately at the news. He shifted further away from the healer, feeling the drain of what little energy he’d regained. “No. Uh uh. I’m not playing house.” He thought for a moment before tugging the hem of his shirt down further. “Just... just fix me. I’ll leave. I’ll get out of your life. I don’t want to be your fucking son.” The bite was gone, but that didn’t mean the attitude had left too. He just wasn’t keen on the idea of yet another father figure in his life that he hated.

[Nathanael Lee]

Nathan's eyes rolled at the boy's continued protest. "I beg to differ, kid," he said with a snort. No matter how independent Jesse thought he was, he was still just a teenager. An injured teenager. Nate knew he wouldn't be able to get very far on his own. And that was before factoring in his condition or his attitude. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Oh hell yes he was. Nathan was going to make sure of it, even if he had to blackmail the boy. The look he got from the boy was enough to keep him on the amused side of the situation, however. "You will be paying for that couch, and the dog isn't mine. If you don't feed him, I'll let him starve." Actually, he planned to bring the dog to the shelter if Jesse wasn't going to take care of him, but he didn't want to recycle an exhausted threat.

"I wasn't looking for feedback. That's your name, get over it." He noticed the shutter and chuckled. "I thought the Maxwell was a nice touch. I was rather fond of my old name, so it's nice that my legacy could live on in some way." Just rubbing salt in the wounds.

He shoved the dog away from his arm instinctively, frowning at the drool Gambit gifted him. He honestly hadn't missed living with dogs. "Whether you like it or not, unless we have a believable cover, neither of us are going to get out of this. You could go back to Hammel. I could go to jail. I don't think either of us want to end up in such places." Nate crossed his arms and looked at the boy defiantly. "You want to leave? Go ahead. If you can walk out the door, I won't stop you. But until you can, you're going to pretend to be my son because I am not getting caught because of you.

"The cover story is that your mother and I are divorced, and you're staying with me for the summer. We can discuss the details later. Just pretend you're on a mission, and don't compromise our identities." The DJ didn't think that Jesse would have the opportunity to deal with other people while he was there, but he prepped the cover just in case. He had to start back at work soon, seeing as the boy was finally conscious, and things could happen while he was away. The kid needed to be prepared.

[Jesse Adams]

“Go to hell,” Jesse spat back. All signs were pointing to the fantastic conclusion that he was here for good. That apparently wasn’t sitting well with the teenager as he curled in on himself, ignoring the twinge in his midsection. “This fucking blows.” He wanted to go back home. Go and find the twins. Instead, he was more or less the former doctor’s prisoner.

Joy.

“Fuck you, Max.” Yes, he was ignoring those nice rules set out by Nathan. Just because he was a guest didn’t mean he had to remember how to use those things called manners. “I shouldn’t be paying you anything. It’s a crime.” It wasn’t his fault he’d bled all over the damn couch. “I’ll feed Gambit, and you touch him, I’ll shoot you in the face.” He hugged the lazy dog possessively. “But the damn couch wasn’t my fault.”

Things just kept going more and more wrong. He openly glared at Max/Nate’s amusement. “You’re not funny,” he growled. “It’s a bullshit name. Worse than Nathanael.” Was he whining? Just a bit. Not that he would admit it. “Find some other way to leave a legacy. Give your stupid name to a goldfish.”

As much as he wanted to get up and prove Nate wrong, Jesse knew, deep down, there was no way he was standing up again, let alone make it down the hall and to the door. It would be so easy to ruin all this for Nate. Rat him out, get him arrested. The problem with that was simple. Nate would probably turn on him and hand him over on a silver platter. Like it or not, they were all that was left of MSAD, and they had to stick together. There was no way Jesse was going to go back to Hammel, and as nice as the image of Nate in a jail cell, making ‘friends’ with some guy named Bubba, it wouldn’t help him. Sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled, not making eye contact.

He listened to the stupid story Nate had created, arching his pierced eyebrow. That was their cover? “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Stupid, maybe, but it would have to work. The teenager turned away from Nate, his arms still wrapped around Gambit. The longer he was awake and moving, the more his midsection started to hurt. Not that he was going to let Nate know that. “Go ‘way. I’m going back to sleep so I don’t have to look at your ugly face anymore.” Gambit snorted and looked up at Nate, his tail half wagging. Jesse ignored the dog. The less he had to talk to Nate, the happier he was.

[Nathanael Lee]

The boy's remaining insults bounced right off the man. Nathan had been dealing with this trouble maker for a long time, there really wasn't anything he could say to bother him. Most of his insults were trivial anyway. They were actually starting to bore the DJ, really, being recycled as often as they were. Although, Jesse did occasionally come up with something fresh, and these just made Nate burst out laughing. The comment about the gold fish, for example. That was cute.

So they had reached a stalemate on multiple accounts. Nathan couldn't kick Jesse out without risking the wrath of the twins, Jesse couldn't run away without risking death from his injury. Neither of them could turn the other in without being turned in himself. For the man, this was perfectly fine. The story would do nicely as a cover, and he could bare the boy's presence in the meantime. Jesse could be amusing, after all. Nate smiled at him, glad to have talked him down to at least a 'fine'. It was a start. "Good," he stated simply, patting the bed a couple times before standing again.

Like most of what came out of the kid's mouth, the insult made the former doctor laugh. "You need your rest anyway. I'll bring you dinner at six. It'll be something light, since I'm not sure you can really stomach anything yet, but it'll be better than nothing," he explained with a shrug.

"There's a bin next to your bed. Don't vomit on my house or I'll make you clean it up and pay for anything else that needs to be replaced." He smirked as he walked to the door, pausing in the doorway. "Sweet dreams, son," Nate cooed mockingly over his shoulder, shutting the door on his way out. His laughter could be heard through the house as he disappeared down the stairs.