tampered | Log: Ongoing

Log: Ongoing

When: September 16
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bartimaeus

kittyjones and Nathaniel

natty_boy
Summary: Kitty and Bartimaeus go to pick up, and yell at Nathaniel
Log: Bartimaeus had left Kitty's flat with Kitty in tow to go fetch Nathaniel. He had taken Ptolemy's form out of habit, wearing modern clothes that helped him fit in with humans more. He'd set a brisk pace for the two of them, knowing that leaving Nathaniel bleeding too long would give rise to him dying again or getting an infection.

He closed his black eyes for a moment, mulling over the fact that Nathaniel was ineed alive. The dead could come back to life... maybe then Ptolemy or Queezle was in the city already. He shook the thoughts from his head, concentrating on finding the fountain and Nathaniel.

Finally approaching the fountain, he looked back at Kitty. "He ought to be nearby." The djinn kept an eye out, looking around for Nathaniel.

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Kitty knew they were walking fast. She knew it, but she didn't really notice it. She didn't look at any of the buildings they walked by as they headed to the Fountain. She was thinking. Her head was full of jumbled, misshapen thoughts, most of which were highly contradictory of each other.

Nathaniel is here. Nathaniel is here. Nathaniel is dead. Nathaniel is hurt. Nathaniel... stop it, Kitty. They were there. Wishing she could shut her mind up, the girl looked around frantically.

"Yes, he should be..." Then she saw him. There. Nathaniel. "He's... he's..."

But she couldn't continue. Her voice stumbled into silence at the sight of him, her head reeling, her hands shaking.

"Nathaniel."

Nathaniel sat at the base of the fountain, head leaned back just so against it with his eyes closed. All around, he could hear the sounds of life, or at least, it's cruel imitation of it. People walked, spoke, laughed and complained about their beverages. Of course they didn't pay much heed to the youth on the ground, but that was all right. He didn't care much for their attention or pity right now.

He sighed and opened his eyes to blink up at the sky, wondering what was taking so long. Dully, his side throbbed as he shifted into a more comfortable position. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, so that was fine.

A flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head and frowned, thinking he recognized the figures, but he wasn't sure. He narrowed his eyes warily as they approached.

Bartimaeus walked over, keeping his expression impassive as he took in Nathaniel's appearance. The prat. He couldn't help frown at the wary look on his former master's face. Had he lost so much blood he'd forgotten what they'd looked like?

"You look like hell." He stated, crossing his arms. He kneeled down and looked at the wound on Nathaniel's side. Not as bad as it could have been, but still bad.

In a daze, Kitty walked over to the young man who was slumped so pathetically, as though he was totally drained of any and all energy. She had hoped... she didn't know what she'd hoped. That he'd recognise her? That he'd cry out her name, get up like everything was all right, run over and...

But he didn't. He didn't even recognise her. And so, rather than rushing to his aid, she stopped dead right in front of him, raising an eyebrow, her eyes hard and wide. "What are you staring at?"

She was going to wait there for an answer. See what he could come up with. But then Bartimaeus knelt down and... the wound. God, the wound. Following the djinn to the floor, mouth slightly agape, she couldn't tear her eyes away from it. Cautiously, gently, she brushed her fingers against it, before curling them back into a fist swiftly like his skin was on fire.

"All right. Nathaniel? Don't say a word. Just shut up, and don't ask questions, for once in your bloody life. This isn't the right time. We've got to clean you up."

Nathaniel straightened considerably when they approached, expression easing when he at least recognized the young boy that Bartimaeus favoured so much as his earthly form. The action pulled the muscles in his side taut, and for a brief moment, he instantly regretting the action when pain lanced across the wound. He bit his lip as he waited for the pain to subside, then automatically pulled back a bit as the Ptolemy-Bartimaeus knelt by him.

He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the greeting, and muttered dryly, "I expected no less of a greeting for you. Figured that if I was in hell, I'd dress for the occassion."

Dark brown eyes darted quickly to the young woman that accompanied the boy, and for a second, he didn't - couldn't - think of who she was. He thought it was Kitty, but... Kitty was older when he last saw her. This Kitty was younger. With no wrinkles and dark hair. Pretty.

Just as he was about to reply to her question, she touched the wound, and he gritted his teeth as she did so. Tightly, he snapped, "You just asked me a bloody question and now you don't expect me to reply? Make up your mind, Kitty."

"This isn't hell, if this were hell, Faquarl would be here." Bartimaeus answered as he inspected the wound with less fear than Kitty. He wasn't too reluctant to cause Nathaniel a little pain if it meant learning how serious it was.

"Looks like it's stopped bleeding." He looked up as Nathaniel yelled at Kitty irritably and took in the image of the two, like an old married couple. Constantly arguing.

Kitty didn't know what to think.

Here she was. Here he was. And Bartimaeus. They were here, in this strange place, this strange City. And Nathaniel was simply being... Nathaniel. Just plain old Nathaniel. Old, arrogant, never-knowing-when-to-shut-up Natty.

He snapped at her when she felt his wound. And that was it. She snapped in return.

Or rather, she slapped in return.

Without even realising she was doing it, Kitty brought her right hand up and swiftly down again with a satisfying crack on Nathaniel's corresponding cheek. She didn't suppose it had been very hard, but her palm stung. Drawing it away slowly, she said nothing. Her eyes seemed darker. Dark and sober. Her brows were furrowed, and her lip was set in a hard, straight line. Anger seemed the most obvious emotion on her face, but there was something else there too, no doubt about it.

Bartimaeus is saying something, the thought slowly processed through her mind, and she turned to the djinn as he inspected the wound. Not even looking at Nathaniel, she crisply addressed her fellow temporary-doctor. "Yes, it seems so. Do you think it's safe to move him? The flat isn't too far."

The young man shot a cold glare at Bartimaeus at his remark, raising his chin just so that it was dignified as well as an aknowledgement at the same time. He chose not to reply otherwise, since mindless banter was, surprisingly, not on his To Do Upon Arrival List.

He allowed himself a quiet, relieved sigh at the djinni's last words, though. He didn't have much time else to think on it, however, as Kitty's palm came flying out of bloody nowhere, catching him smartly across the cheek with a sharp smack. Nathaniel felt his head fall back at the contact, eyes wide, mouth hanging partially open with surprise. Slowly, he turned back to stare at Kitty, pale cheek blossoming an impressive shade of red as he raised a hand to it.

"You slapped me."

The words were out before he thought about it. He couldn't help it. It was just so... startling. He didn't expect that. Yelling, he was ready for. Lectures, go right on ahead. But that?

His scattered thoughts were cut short when Kitty spoke again, and he glowered at her words. With more of an effor than he wanted to display, Nathaniel reached a hand up to the lip of the fountain and lurched to his feet, standing as firmly as possible, ignoring the reeling sensation behind his eyes.

Irritably, he answered, "Yes, it's safe to move him. He can walk perfectly fine on his own, thank you."

"Ooh, that looked like it stung." The djinni commented as he watched the deep red grow into a hand-shape. There had been venom in that one. Not that he couldn't blame her, Nathaniel deserved it.

Bartimaeus watched, hiding concern at the lurching, and obviously effort filled attempt at standing. "You really should do that, you'll open the wound again. Sit down before you fall down." The djinni stated irritably. "We didn't come all this way to get you just so you could pass out from pain."

At Nathaniel's words, Kitty only rolled her eyes. No, really, I hadn't noticed. But she kept all sardonic comments from actually being spoken. Sniping really wouldn't be helpful.

Hearing Bartimaeus comment on the slap, Kitty glanced up to Nat's cheek, and almost bit her lip when she saw the red mark there - but no, she stopped herself in time. It was his fault. If he wasn't so arrogant... he deserved it.

But then suddenly... suddenly Nathaniel was trying to stand. Leaping to her feet, she joined the djinni in a chorus of protest.

"Don't be such an idiot! Do you want it to start bleeding again?" She noticed that while he was trying to stand straight and steady, he was clutching hold of the fountain for support, and his eyes were dazed and unfocused. She moved without thinking, as she had done when she had released that slap, coming round to stand beside him. One arm went around him to firmly place the hand on his opposite shoulder. The other hand went gently to rest on the small of his back.

"Sit. Down." She gently pressed down on his shoulder, tempted to simply shove him back to the ground, but not wanting to hurt him any more.

Nathaniel shot Bartimaeus a dry smile in reply to the quip. "No, it only looked like it did. Care to give it a try?"

He bit down on his lip again as his companions' words were only echoed by the sting that tore through the wound, and his grip tightened on the stone ledge, knuckles white. But he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of being right. He couldn't. He was John Mandrake, Hero of London. He was better than this. He shouldn't have to --

What was she doing?

He was suddenly all too aware of Kitty's touch, her hand on his shoulder, her hand on his back. He swallowed roughly when she spoke; she was close enough to him that he could almost feel her breath ripple across his neck, though he was certain that was his imagination, or the wind, more than anything. She wouldn't stand so close to him. But she was, and he...

No.

Quickly regaining composure, remembering that Bartimaeus was standing so very nearby, Nathaniel stepped out of the regretfully comfortable position in Kitty's arms - and almost toppled over at it. He quickly righted himself with an impressive swing of his arm, not falling, making it look like a trip. He let out a slow breath, then glanced over his shoulder, eyes carefully guarded and tone even as he spoke.

"I don't need your coddling, either of you. Let's just get to wherever it is we need to get to. The flat. You said flat. Whichever. Can - we - just - go?" He heavily accented his final words through gritted teeth; standing was proving difficult, and he wanted to take his mind off it (and that... moment? with Kitty) now.

"I'd rather not." Bartimaeus replied. He raised an eyebrow at the sudden closeness of the two. Just like back in london towards the end. Neither had changed very much at all since they'd last seen each each other. Stubborn as bloody mules.

Then he saw the look on Nathaniel's face. It was priceless. But that moment quickly ended when Nathaniel pulled away. The damn idiot was putting on the damn mask of a magician.

That annoyed him right down to core of his essence. In three quick succesive steps he had grabbed Nathaniel's arm and glared at him, patience wearing thing. Ptolemy's face darkened and his eyes gained a darker edge to them, showing 5000 years of age in them.

"Sit down. Now."

Kitty was sure she felt Nathaniel tense beneath her. His neck stiffened, and for a moment his face was... what the hell was that expression? But it was gone before she could closely examine it.

Probably just can't stand getting touched by a commoner, she thought to herself in a hurt, almost bitter voice.

The next thing she knew, the boy was practically falling out of her arms, and flapping his arm like some great injured bird. She couldn't help but smirk as he tried to make it look like a perfectly natural trip.

"Very suave, Natty." But the smile disappeared quickly when he began to speak, to speak in that arrogant tone that was all John Mandrake and not a bit Nathaniel. "Coddling? You think it's coddling to stop you falling flat on your face? Like you almost just did? Anyway," she fixed him with a disdainful look, "I hardly see Bartimaeus as the coddling type."

Moments later, that statement was proven true by the djinni making for Nathaniel. Kitty had been going to go with him, but seeing the darkening of his eyes she stayed firmly where she was. It reminded her of when she had summoned Bartimaeus, all those years ago. When he had called thunder and wind and terrible sights down upon the room, and made her cry for him to stop.

"Nathaniel, please. Just sit down. We need to look at it, or it's going to get worse." This was spoken quietly, soothingly, though whether the tone was down to her unease at Bartimaeus bristling, or was a false masking for the annoyance she was feeling at the young magician, or something else entirely, no one could say.

The magician bit back an aggravated sigh when neither Kitty nor Bartimaeus moved to reply or follow him when he stepped away. He turned to face them, hands kept carefully at his sides though one was sorely tempted to come up to touch the wound himself. He resisted the urge.

"Don't call me Natty," he muttered instead, narrowing his eyes at Kitty from under the curtain of hair that had fallen into his face with his 'trip.' About to remind her that it would be better if they just started walking instead of wasting time, he found himself in the sudden vise-like grip of his former servant.

Nathaniel whipped his head around to speak sharply to Bartimaeus, though the words died in his throat when he saw the djinni's expression. He held back and instead shifted his gaze away, cheeks burning but dark eyes flashing dangerously.

He relaxed inwardly at Kitty's placating tone, but he spoke coolly. "I'm not sitting here another moment. I walked a five steps -- a few more couldn't hurt. Besides," he added, in an attempt to reassure them, "if I sit down now, no telling if I can get up again, right?"

He didn't bother to tell them that he was quite certain that last sentence was true, too. The throbbing in his side was growing by the minute.

"Five steps that aren't doing any good." Bartimaeus stated bluntly. He knew how his appearance had changed, he could make things worse, worse than when Kitty had brought up memories he didn't want when she'd summoned him.

Never-the-less, the djinni loosened his grip on Nathaniel's arm and the darkness receded from his eyes, leaving them to be Ptolemy's again. He knew what would be the appropriate thing to say, something emotional and touching.

Bartimaeus did not do emotions.

"If you sit down, we'll help you up again." It was appropriately awkward for the occasion, Bartimaeus sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to say something alone those lines, ever again.

"I'll call you what I bloody well like, you're in no position to argue. An imp could beat you up right about now."

Oh, the stupid, stupid idiot. What is he trying to prove? He was so fixed on moving, and so bloody stubborn, it seemed likely they'd be at this forever. He wasn't even scared into silence by Bartimaeus.

"Look. If you won't sit down, you'll have to stand up. But you're not going anywhere now. And seeing is my flat is our only possible destination... if I say you're not getting in, you're not getting in."

There was more she had to say, more arguments, more of her own stubborn streak, but then... Bartimaeus said his piece. And Kitty was stunned into utter silence. She made no attempt to hide it, her jaw literally dropped and her eyes were wider than ever. There were so many things she could say about that line. She didn't know the djinni did corny like that.

... But smart quips wouldn't help. They'd just make things worse. And so, she nodded in agreement.

"What he said. So stop acting like such a tough guy and let us help you."

Dryly, Nathaniel replied, "But I thought you said imps didn't exist here?"

He wouldn't hide it or deny it. He was tired, he was irritable, he was hungry and thirsty and aching. Surely he was allowed some proper stubborness now and then?

But as soon as Bartimaeus released his grip on Nathaniel's arm, the young man wavered. He wasn't sure how or why (though he suspected the gaping hole in his side had something to do with it), but it certainly was not a welcome change. The wound flamed and he took a step back as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tightly, forcing himself to speak past the attack his body had just wreaked on itself. He knew he'd gone pale; well, paler than normal, at any rate. And Kitty and Bartimaeus weren't stupid. They'd notice.

"Let's. Just. Go. Now." So faintly that it could go unheard, he murmured, "Please, Kitty. Bartimaeus. I just want to leave."

He barely registered Bartimaeus' words, though on some conscious level, he did hear them. The wound throbbed again, and the magician instinctively grabbed out for Ptolemy's small shoulder for support. He felt like he was going to be ill, and he supposed moving was a nasty idea after all.

He hated being wrong just as much as being vunerable.

Bartimaeus noticed the visible change in Nathaniel the moment he relased the magician. Maybe it was worse than he thought. Already pale skin had gone paler, which really wasn't a good sign.

"Fine, we'll go, but you aren't walking on your own."

Bartimaeus said, just as Nathaniel wavered again, and then suddenly grabbed onto his shoulder. He was suddenly glad that while he had Ptolemy's form, the strength was not that of the frail egyptian boy.

"You better not throw up on me." Bartimaeus said warningly as he braced his former master and frowned. Human vomit was terrible for the essence.

Kitty had been standing back, deciding to let Bartimaeus do the final convincing to get Nathaniel to shut up and sit down. But then Bartimaeus let go, and Nathaniel displayed a certain lack of stability, and... He was stumbling and shaking and closing his eyes and almost falling over and... pale. Very pale. Nathaniel had never exactly been a sun-kissed boy, but now he looked pale as... as death. Like a corpse.

And he is dead, Kitty thought to herself, he died. This is him, and he's in pain, and we're trying to save him, but he's already...

But then Nathaniel lurched forward onto the djinni, and Kitty abandoned all those thoughts. Action now, question the nature of life and death later. She didn't care that he was dead. She didn't care that she was alive. He was hurting, and...

She found herself moving quickly towards him, where he was leaning on his ex-servant. Before he could protest, she had grabbed his other arm and pulled it over her shoulders, further supporting him on her weight.

"The same goes for me," she spoke in a pseudo-cautionary tone. And then, as if to lighten the mood, "This shirt is clean on, you know."

He was taller then her, she vaguely realised, and heavier too. But she didn't care. Turning her head sharply, she fixed him with a glare, "And don't you even think about passing out, Natty-boy, or when you wake up I'll make this whole thing seem like a bloody day at the fair."

The sun was much too bright. That much, Nathaniel was certain of. It burned through his eyelids, the throbbing in his side now echoing the pounding in his head. He remembered what it had been like, being on the recieving end of the Detonation that had, apparently, cost him his life. Bartimaeus had hidden his thoughts from Nathaniel then, made certain that the magician wouldn't find out at least until the job was done. But Nathaniel had read his thoughts. He knew how serious it was.

Cold fear swamped him when he realised it - what if he died again? Was that even possible? He was already dead, this place couldn't... No, don't think about that, he thought firmly. Concentrate.

He winced sharply when they shifted his position, supported him between themselves. If the pain wasn't so bloody difficult to handle, his face would have flushed deeply in embarrasment. Only Bartimaeus had seem him at his worst - he didn't want Kitty to as well.

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard them speak, and he managed a quiet chuckle. "I'm... the magician. You're the djinn and - and the commoner. You're supposed to listen to me. I won't - no, seriously, I won't. Just don't drop me..." Kitty spoke. He tried without much success to turn his head to look at her. "Saw a carousel," he mumbled. "Already at the fair."

He knew he was rambling. His mouth was rattling off utter nonesense, and passing out, actually, was an excellent idea. But lying down was even more so, and he made to take a step forward, to get them moving.

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Log: Ongoing

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