Marvelous Meditations

Xavier cleared his throat, his fingers interlaced as he regarded Nathan with a measured expression. "This is about your work here at the school."

Nathan leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow. "What about my work?"

Xavier hesitated for a brief moment, his gaze flickering toward Storm before continuing. "You've done an admirable job with the students. Everyone can see how much they've improved under your guidance."

Nathan inclined his head slightly, waiting for the 'but' he knew was coming.

Xavier sighed. "However, I called you here to discuss another aspect of your role—your position as our security consultant."

A beat of silence passed before Storm, who had been watching Nathan carefully, spoke up. "Frankly, we feel like you've underdelivered on your promises."

Nathan crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "And how's that, exactly?"

Storm's eyes narrowed slightly. "You assured us you'd find the person responsible for tipping off our enemies about Wolverine's departure." She exhaled slowly, her voice steady but firm. "You've uncovered informants—several, in fact—ones we failed to notice before you arrived. I won't deny that's impressive. But none of them seem like the type capable of orchestrating a trap of that scale for Logan."

Nathan remained silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, he exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. "So what you're saying is... you think I'm holding back."

Storm didn't flinch. "I think you haven't given us everything. And I want to know why."

Nathan exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before letting his hand drop. "Tell me something—why do people hire security professionals?"

Storm's frown deepened slightly, but she answered without hesitation. "To provide protection. Whether it's their homes, workplaces, or anything in between."

Nathan nodded. "Exactly. And as far as I'm concerned, that means establishing enough of a deterrent to make sure no one even thinks about pulling something reckless." His voice was even, matter-of-fact, but his eyes were sharp. "I haven't found who's responsible for setting Logan up yet, and there are only two possible reasons for that."

He raised two fingers. "One: I'm doing my job too damn well, and they're being careful. Two: they're simply biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike." He lowered his hand and leaned back in his chair. "Either way, it won't be long before someone gets impatient and makes a mistake."

Storm crossed her arms, clearly unsatisfied. "And how long are we supposed to wait for that?"

Nathan met her gaze without flinching. "I could speed things up," he admitted, his voice calm, almost indifferent. "Make the mansion look like an easy target. Let your enemies think we've let our guard down." His expression turned cold. "But that would be reckless. And unprofessional."

A moment of silence stretched between them. Then Xavier cleared his throat. "What Nathan is trying to say," he said, his voice patient but firm, "is that these things take time. The fact that he's already uncovered covert operatives near the school—ones we completely overlooked—should be proof enough of his capability."

Storm didn't respond immediately, her fingers drumming lightly against her arm as she considered his words.

Nathan watched Storm, reading the hesitation in her posture, the way her fingers flexed slightly like she wanted to say more but held herself back. He let out a slow breath, realizing exactly what was going on. This wasn't Xavier's doing—it was hers.

"Right," he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face before fixing her with a look. "Listen, I know you don't have the highest opinion of me, and I don't expect that to change overnight. But what you need to understand is that I'm not here to play games."

His frown deepened, a flicker of irritation breaking through his usual composure. "As things stand, I want to find the bastard responsible for this even more than anyone here. If he's the same person I've been hunting, then I'll deal with him accordingly. If not, I'll finish what I started here and move on to the next hunting ground." His voice was calm but firm, carrying an undercurrent of something Storm couldn't quite place—determination, maybe, or something darker.

He leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with her. "There are things I could do to draw them out, but those options would put every single person in this mansion at risk. And I don't know about you," his tone dipped, heavy with meaning, "but I have more than enough blood on my hands."

Storm let out a slow, measured sigh, her frustration deflating into something closer to guilt. "You're right," she admitted, shaking her head. "I let my suspicions and doubts get the better of me, and in doing so, I wasted everyone's time."

Nathan shrugged. "I get it. With my history, I wouldn't want me around kids either." Then, turning to Xavier with an exasperated look, he added, "I still have no idea what you were thinking, making me a teacher."

Storm offered a wry, almost bitter smile, while Xavier simply cleared his throat, unfazed. "Regardless," the professor said smoothly, "I believe today's matter has been resolved. Many of the students here, and indeed the faculty, may not always see eye to eye. But we coexist with the understanding that, despite our differences, we must work together toward a brighter future nonetheless."

Nathan sighed again, but this time it was less annoyed, more resigned. "Yeah, yeah. Hope, unity, all that good stuff." He pushed himself up from his seat. "If that's all, I've got things to do."

Nathan had already turned toward the door when Xavier's voice stopped him.

"One more moment of your time, Nathan," the professor said, his tone smooth but firm. "I believe I have a way to prevent future conflicts like this from happening again."

Nathan exhaled sharply through his nose, half-expecting another long-winded speech about trust and cooperation. Still, he turned back, raising an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Xavier smiled knowingly. "You simply need to establish an understanding with Ororo, as we all have here." He gestured toward Storm, who had been silently observing the exchange, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. "You two have barely spoken outside of these meetings. Perhaps sharing a cup of coffee and getting to know each other better would help smooth things over."

Nathan narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression caught between amusement and annoyance. "You're trying to set us up on a bonding exercise?"

Xavier didn't flinch. "Call it whatever you'd like. But mutual understanding fosters cooperation, and cooperation leads to efficiency."

Nathan let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You could've just said 'talk to each other' and saved yourself the speech." He turned to Storm, extending a hand. "Alright, sure. I'm free next week if you're down."

Storm studied him for a moment, her gaze lingering on his outstretched hand before she finally took it. Her grip was firm, confident. "Only if I pick the spot."

Nathan smirked. "Fine by me. Just don't take me anywhere fancy. I don't do linen tablecloths and overpriced espresso."

Storm gave a small, knowing smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

...

The bar had the kind of atmosphere Nathan appreciated—dim lighting, the low hum of conversation, and a jukebox in the corner playing something bluesy. He took a moment to scan the room, his eyes quickly settling on the man he was here to meet—Matt Murdock.

Sitting beside Matt was a slightly pudgy man with short brown hair, nursing a pint of beer, and a blonde woman sipping something stronger. They were mid-conversation when Nathan strolled up behind Matt, a smirk already forming.

Without warning, he clapped a hand over Matt's eyes. "Guess who, Shades?"

Matt let out a sigh, his lips tightening. "As obnoxious as ever, Nate."

Nathan chuckled as he pulled his hand away. "And I see you still can't recognize humor if it was right in front of your eyes." His gaze flicked to Matt's companions. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Matt exhaled, clearly resigning himself to whatever chaos Nathan was about to bring. "Guys, this is the one I've been telling you about—Nathan Cross." He gestured toward the man first. "This is Franklin Nelson, my business partner and friend."

Nathan extended a hand. "Good to meet you, Franklin."

The man shook it but immediately froze, blinking in confusion. "Uh… you can call me Foggy. Everyone does." He paused mid-sentence, frowning. "Wow, your hand's really cold."

"Sorry about that..." Nathan smirked. "Hazard of the job."

With that, he casually pulled off the hand-shaped glove concealing his prosthetic, revealing the metallic gleam of Vibranium. The bar's soft light reflected off the detailed plating, highlighting the seamless design.

Foggy's jaw went slack as he turned to Matt and pointed at the arm. "Wait, hold on. Your friend has a robot arm?"

Matt took a slow sip of his drink, completely unfazed, as if having a friend with a high-tech prosthetic limb was just another Tuesday. "Nathan was a soldier—special ops, that kind of thing," he said, setting his glass down. "Dealt with unusual situations. Now he runs a security firm."

Foggy scratched his head, still staring at the metal arm like it might start moving on its own. "You could've mentioned your friend was part Terminator," he muttered.

Matt turned slightly toward Nathan, offering a nonchalant shrug. "Didn't know he was part Terminator either."

The blonde woman beside Foggy cleared her throat, giving Nathan a once-over—his sharp features, the way he carried himself, the practical, subtly armored clothing. Everything about him screamed military.

"He sure looks the part," she said, her tone unreadable.

Nathan smirked, tilting his head slightly. "And you look like you should be in a beauty pageant."

She arched a brow but didn't seem fazed. "Flattery won't get you anywhere."

"Wasn't flattery," Nathan replied with a grin. "Just an observation."

She rolled her eyes but extended her hand. "Seeing as Matt conveniently forgot, I'll introduce myself. Karen Page."

Nathan quickly slipped his glove back on before shaking her hand—firm grip, brief but polite. "Karen Page of the New York Bulletin," he noted, his smirk widening. "If I knew Matt was keeping such lovely company, I'd have reconnected with him years ago."

Matt scoffed, shaking his head. "Stop trying to charm my friends and sit down already," he said dryly. "You've already made an impression."

Nathan chuckled and pulled out a chair. "What can I say? First impressions matter."

Nathan flagged down the bartender and ordered a beer. When it arrived, he took a sip, savoring the cold bitterness.

Across from him, Karen leaned forward slightly. "Seeing as you recognized me by name, are you a regular reader of the Bulletin?"

Nathan set his bottle down with a small smirk. "I like to stay updated. The New York Bulletin is one of the few papers out there that doesn't feed its subscribers a load of crap every morning." He drummed his fingers on the table, then added, "You had guts with those articles about the Punisher."

Karen arched a brow. "You know Frank?"

Nathan nodded. "Served with him for a while." He exhaled slowly. "Couldn't help him when things went sideways—had my own problems to deal with—but I'm glad someone did."

Karen let out a quiet sigh, swirling the drink in her glass. "Someone needed to speak out. That just happened to be me."

Nathan lifted his beer in a casual toast. "And I'm grateful you did. I'm sure Frank is too."

A small, knowing smile crossed Karen's face before she clinked her bottle against his and took a sip.

Nathan turned his attention back to Matt. "So… that Walker chick. She getting the help she needs?"

Matt nodded. "Checked up on her a couple days ago. Can't say she'll be ready for civilized society anytime soon, but… she's better." Then, with a deadpan stare, he added, "You don't have to beat around the bush. Foggy and Karen both know about my alter ego."

Nathan blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes flicked between the two of them, and when they each gave a small nod, he chuckled, shaking his head.

"And you two still put up with Shades?" he asked, smirking.

Foggy let out a dry chuckle, though there was an underlying weight to it. "Well, he doesn't make it easy, but someone's gotta keep an eye on Matt—keep him from getting himself killed before he hits forty." He took a sip of his drink before adding, "Between the law firm and the night job, I'd say he's got a death wish."

Nathan smirked and leaned back in his chair. "Then you're a better friend than me, Foggy Nelson. I gave up trying to talk sense into him and bailed out years ago."

Matt's expression darkened slightly, his frown deepening. "You don't have to keep pretending, Nate." His voice was even, almost too calm. "I know why you really left. I know about Malone."

Nathan's smirk faded. His fingers tightened around the neck of his beer bottle, but he didn't speak right away.

Matt kept his gaze steady. "I've been looking into it since the moment you showed up again."

Nathan exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting his head back slightly before taking a long pull from his drink. When he finally set it down, his voice was quieter but firm.

"I'm sorry you did, Shades." He gave a small, humorless chuckle. "I tried to keep those kinds of things away from you."

Matt shook his head. "Yeah, well… I'm not a kid anymore. I can handle the truth." He folded his hands together on the table, fingers interlacing. "You did what you had to do."

Nathan studied him for a moment, his jaw tightening just a fraction. Then, without a word, he reached for his beer again.

...

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