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[x-mactaggart.livejournal.com]

Moira comes down to see how badly Nathan's hurt and she's caught a little bit off guard by what he got hit with.



The look his wife was wearing as he walked into the examining room was not reassuring. In fact, the little tic beside her eye was pretty damned scary. "Look," Nathan said, raising his hands and wincing a little as his ribs protesting. "Ambulatory and everything. I'm fine, Moira." He couldn't help a brief, wry grin. "Scott, Haroun, and Kylun all look worse than I do."

"I gave them th' exact same look I'm givin' ye," Moira said tiredly, crossing her arms as she gave him a once over. "Ye look like ye got worked over pretty well, yerself. Thanks ta Shiro bein' there or ye'd 'ave been street pizza."

He came over and took her in his arms for a moment, kissing her forehead. "I'm fine," he said softly. And if he was holding onto her a little tightly, that was allowed. They were married and all. "Little bruised, but that's it."

Leaning back in his arms, she weaseled her way to lifting up his shirt, despite his slight protest. "Hush." Her eyebrows raised. "Jus' a wee bit bruised, aye? Leathers must 'ave worked but still, wha' did ye get hit wit, a dresser?"

Nathan bit his lip. Oh, she was going to laugh at him. Or maybe not, given that it had knocked him off the roof of a twenty-story building. Because that really wasn't funny. Even if it kind of was.

"A coatrack," he said. Meekly.

Moira stared up at him. "A wha'?" Maybe Americans used the term 'coatrack' for something else. Like 'house' or something equally as big.

"Coatrack. You know, those wooden things that you hang coats on?" Nathan sighed as Moira tugged his shirt upwards, very obviously wanting him to take it off. "Our target flung it at me from a window of the building I was scanning. I was concentrating too hard and didn't see it coming."

"Wha' did he flin' it wit', a bloody rocket launcher?" she squeaked, poking him gently this way and that in the ribs. Well, it did kind of look like a coatrack shaped bruise if you squinted just so and tilted her head to the left.

Nathan bit his lip. "By hand, apparently," he said, telling himself not to laugh. Again, not with the funny, here. "The guy was a whole lot more physically enhanced than we expected. Scott looks like he got blown through a wall because... well, apparently he got pulled through a wall."

Moira's eyes grew large. Incredibly large. "By HAND? Nathan, look at yer ribs! Ye look like ye went duelin' wit' a...wit' a...hell, wit' a coatrack!"

"Hey," Nathan said firmly, when her eyes were approaching scary levels of wideness. "Nothing's broken. The paramedics in Budapest ran me through their x-ray machine and told me that already. Which is good," he said, deliberately chattering a little, "because I do remember you and I have that discussion about how if I broke my ribs again that I would be getting nastily close to 'need for surgical reconstruction' land."

"Aye, for at least two o' yer ribs, if nay more," she muttered, leaning in closer to get a better look. "Yer lucky 'e dinnae aim for yer head. Or he missed, one o' th' two. My God, who was this man?" There was a pause. "Besides a psychotic, coatrack flinin' madman?"

Nathan hesitated for a second, discretion kicking back in. Even if it was mostly a consensual illusion for the two of them, given the link. "An ex-soldier off his meds," he said more softly.

A frown flickered. "Must 'ave been a 'ell o' a cocktail ta keep this in check," she responded, just as softly.

"Guess it wasn't enough in the end." Maybe he was being a little overly sympathetic, given what Veres had done, but having been a more-than-slightly psychotic ex-soldier himself...

"Sometimes it isnae," Moira said, a twinge of sadness in her voice. She'd seen far too many cases were the patients mental problems were just far too large to help. They either wasted away on drugs or were imprisoned.

"Can't save everyone," Nathan said quietly, raising a hand to brush the hair out of her eyes as she paused in her examination of his ribs. "How'd the munchkin behave today?"

"She cried, a lot, but babies do tha'. Then she settled down an' scared people by laughin'."

Nathan grinned suddenly. "I like the disturbing laughter. She's such a character already, isn't she?"

"O' course she is," Moira said, poking him in the ribs. "Look at who 'er parents are."

She hadn't really poked him. Nathan winced anyway, just for show. "So," he said amiably, "if you've satisfied yourself that I'm intact, can I go shower? I stink."

Wrinkling her nose, she nodded. A lot. "Please do." And then winked at him.

"Love you. Evil woman," Nathan said, leaning in to kiss her before he reclaimed his sweatshirt and turned towards the door. "I'll be a little while, I expect. Debriefing and all."

Moira snickered softly. "Well, I should 'ope so. Wearin' yer briefs inta th' shower is normally nay such a good idea."
Nathan stopped, blinked, and then grinned at her. "Hush, or you'll be giving me ideas we're not allowed to have for another month."

#Jus' save it up until then?# She thought at him...and then ran, laughing.