xp_logs | Moira and Nathan, Sunday night

Nathan, barred from lugeing, decides that it's time to tell Moira about the progress he's made with his Southeast Asian mystery after Friday's conference. The answer is becoming clearer and clearer, unpalatable as it might be. After making some decisions on that subject, the two of them relax a little. Unexpectedly, the topic of adding to the family comes up. Thankfully, they're both in agreement as to the answer.

Nathan was staring out the window of the suite's main room, peering in the general direction of the lake. He couldn't quite see it from here, but they were having fun. He could tell. "That's got to be so much fun," he said woefully, not turning to look at Moira. She'd just be wearing that alarmingly uncompromising look again. "Fast, and ice, and whee!"

"Ye can go 'fast an' whee!' in a car. Wit' seat belts. An' air bags. An' brakes." To return the favor, Moira hadn't even bothered looking up from the piles of paper the Foundation had generated that week, all faxed over via an exhausted Maddie. They still weren't sure where that huge donation had come from ages ago and attempts to track it down had simply proved futile.

Nathan finally did look around, eyeing the piles. "Now our living room is beginning to look like my office," he said, coming over and sitting down in one of the armchairs. "Why don't you put it away for the night?" he suggested. "You've been working all day, on top of dealing with the munchkin's temper tantrum..."

"Mah," was the sleepy protest from the nursery, but Rachel left it at that.

She snickered a little bit at that and stuck her tongue out at Nathan. "These piles are a wee bit more organized than yers." There was a pause. "Probably because Paige threatened ta 'ide me coffee if I let it get as bad as yer office. Rumors 'ave been circulatin' about th' state it was in before th' boys got ta it. I'm almost done, jus' need ta add my signature ta a few more things an' then send them back tomorrow mornin'."

"Well, I couldn't find anything yesterday," Nathan said a bit grumpily, slouching in the chair. "Neatness is sometimes counterproductive." He bit his lip, thinking about the conference on Friday and what he'd lifted from Namhong's mind at the luncheon. That had been the reason for the twelve-hour day yesterday, trying to trace down some of those leads. "Moira, this business in Southeast Asia's starting to look really ugly," he said, without preamble.

"'ow ugly?" Moira asked, tilting her head as she signed the last paper and stacked it neatly in the pile in front of her. "Uglier than ye thought at first?"

"Much." Nathan hesitated. "Is it common," he finally asked, slowly, "for mutations to be regarded as birth defects?"

Frowning, she leaned back against the couch. "In some countries if th' dinnae test for th' gene an' 'tis a physical mutation," came the slow, thoughtful reply. "Maybe. But not generally. 'ow many are bein' reported as birt' defects?"

"Most of these clinics in the rural area are offering genetic testing along with prenatal checkups," Nathan said. "I know that's not uncommon, that there are a lot of genetic problems that are increasingly getting tested for on a regular basis. But the testing for the X-factor is being done as part of that," he said quietly. "Not by all of these clinics, but a number of them. I picked that up from someone at the conference. And then yesterday, I started to look at abortion rates."

"I'm almost afraid ta ask."

"Higher in the clinics that provide the genetic testing. Markedly higher." Nathan rubbed at his jaw, looking away for a moment, back in the direction of the window. Oddly enough, the urge to go luging had died completely. "I know that's not conclusive. But I went through some of the material I picked up at the conference, too... and okay, some of it I really shouldn't have picked up, but thievery is a good cause isn't such a bad thing. There's a memo about offering counseling with the genetic testing, at a half-dozen of these clinics run by the same NGO. And one sentence just sounds really, really bad to me."

He gave her a somber look. "It was suggesting that counseling be extended especially to pregnant mutant women with mutations that 'significantly affect their quality of life'."

Moira paled slightly. "Tha's completely ridiculous," she said, softly, horrifed. "Wha' on eart' is th' goal in all o' this?"

"Maybe I just naturally jump to the worst possible conclusions, but if you've got a mother with a telepathic mutation and a mother who sweats acid, which child is liable to be more useful?" Nathan said with a sigh.

It didn't even need to be said. "Would ye 'appen ta 'ave a list, mentally or otherwise, o' th' clinics tha' are offerin' this? Is there a pattern ta where they're located at? I know ye 'ad tha' map earlier."

Nathan immediately offered the details down the link. "And there are a few other things," he went on, almost tiredly. "Eris is on the donor lists of a few of these NGOs. I've also cross-referenced some of the doctors involved, looked into their other relief work. About twelve of them have worked on other projects that have ties of that sort to Eris." He was silent for a long moment. "Two of them have worked on projects where my father's name was on the donor list."

At that little bit of news, Moira's eyes narrowed sharply. "Well, isnae tha' suspicious. Anythin' tha' 'as ta do wit' mutants an' yer family normally spells trouble. Combine tha' wit' these camps in Africa...wha' are they doin', raisin' an army?" She glanced over at Nathan and blinked.

"Useful mutations, 'useless' mutations." Nathan stared blankly at the wall for a moment and then got up and came over to sit down beside her on the couch. "I don't like being this paranoid," he said, his mouth twisting a little. "We can't prove anything against Gideon or Saul. I think, from what I have, that you could make a good case against some of these NGOs. But there's nothing to say that their donors influence policy."

"Nay, but there this somethin' called donor intent." Turning to better face him, she further explained, "If a donor gives money ta a NGO or wha' 'ave ye, a lot o' th' major donors tend ta specify where their money is goin'. If ye ignore tha' an' spend it where ye please, there's a good chance th' donor will sue an' take back th' original donation."

Nathan gazed at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Might be something there," he said, "but I wouldn't lay money on them not having covered their tracks somehow." He shook his head, staring down at her piles of paper. "The problem can be addressed, at least. What's being done, if not why it's being done," he said, as much to reassure himself as anything else.

"I wouldnae be surprised if they 'ave covered their tracks, but 'tis still wort' a shot. We can also request their annual reports tha' they're supposed ta put out each year, it'll list 'ow much was given by who. Unless a donor requested ta remain off th' list o' course but, still, another chance ta see where their donations are comin' in from an' how much."

Nathan gave her a brief smile. "They did," he said, "in every case. Were left off, I mean. I've been intimidating people and/or lying to people over the phone to get them to share the information that's been left off. I have dollar amounts for all of Eris's donations. Not for my father's." The smile lingered a little. "I'm getting good at this, aren't I?"

Reaching over, she patted his hand and smiled. "Aye, ye are. Is there a pattern ta who they're donatin' ta?"

"Medical charities. Children's charities." The smile wobbled and vanished, and he laid a hand over hers where it was still resting on his. "Makes me sick to think of it," he said heavily.

"Ye an' me bot'. I'll be contactin' me lawyer back in Edinburgh tomorrow mornin'. 'Tis time we start th' process we were talkin' about."

Nathan leaned back into the couch. He nodded almost absently in response to her words. "All these shots in the dark," he finally said quietly. "Some of them have to pan out. I wonder if my lawsuit will..."

"It might at tha'," Moira said. "It cannae 'urt, tha's for sure."

"Mah?" Rachel burbled softly from the nursery. "Maaaaaah."

Nathan gazed in that direction, his expression softening. He reached out and squeezed Moira's hand. "I'll spent tomorrow morning putting everything I have together for you in a neat little package," he said. "The whole thing's generated a surprising amount of paper."

She rolled her eyes a bit and poked him in the ribs. "Wha' 'asnae been generatin' a surprisin' amount o' paper for ye lately?" Moira teased. Sobering, she nodded. "As soon as 'tis ready, I'll go through it."

"Never let it be said that I don't know when to bring in the big gun," he said, wearily but teasingly. "There's a very limited amount someone skulking around the sidelines and stealing documents can actually do."

"We'll make things 'appen, love, jus' wait an' see."

Nathan smiled - but the smile turned into a frown as his vision flickered in and out. For a moment he was sitting in a car, in front of what looked to be a New York brownstone. And someone was reaching out to lay a hand on his arm, but even as he turned to see who it was, the image was gone as quickly as it had come. Nathan shook his head a little, focusing on Moira again.

"Hrm," was the response he managed at first, then gave her a reassuring smile.

Her eyebrows were in her hair line by the time he refocused. "Wha' was tha'?"

"Just a flash of something," Nathan said, raising a hand to rub his eyes. "Not sure what. I'll write it down." At her suggestion, he'd been keeping a journal of his visions, just like Angie did. They did after all need to try and establish limits to his precog in its new form, she had pointed out. "I think it was actually me, though," he said thoughtfully. "That seems to be happening more and more often. Funny, when I never used to see my own future."

"Well, it does make sense now. Before yer visions were so far inta tha' future tha', well, by their time ye were long since buried. Now tha' 'tis snapped back ta maybe wha' they should 'ave been...?" She shrugged.

"Like my mother's, maybe," Nathan pointed out wryly. "Yay." He leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around her and letting the air in his lungs out on a sigh. "You know, not really all that disconsolate about not being out there on the luge track," he said lightly. "I'm more tired than I thought."

"See, I told ye but did ye listen? Nay, o' course not." Snuggling closer, she sighed. "Maybe if Bobby makes ice selt-belts ye can try an' play wit' them tomorrow."

"Five months," he reminded her, "and counting. Not looking to break a streak like that anytime soon." He pressed his lips gently against her temple. "I'm rather liking being intact and having full use of all my limbs. Leads to a lot more sex, I find." Oh, he was so getting swatted.

Snickering slightly, Moira did, in fact, smack him. "Ye nay th' only one 'appy about that," came the teasing response. "But, aye, I find ye much better on th' eyes when yer nay in traction."

"Well, to be honest, as far as incentive go... plentiful sex and a lack of the reconstructive surgery you threatened me with if I broke any more ribs are a dynamite combination," Nathan said with a grin that was a little reluctant at first, but then blossomed into something more natural. He would remember how to relax and enjoy life, even if pushing the worries away was only temporary. It was what GW would have wanted him to do, and he was finding that a very effective reminder these days.

"Speakin' sex, I was asked th' other day when we were 'avin' more children." At Nathan's choked response, Moira laughed out loud. A look at his face sent her off into another peal of giggles before finally settling down. "I think tha's wha' me reaction was, actually."

"Oh hell. We can't keep the one we have from flying away and flinging squirrels!" Nathan protested, laughing. "Gah. That's all we'd need, another little prodigy..."

"...I think she's it for us, dinnae ye?" she asked, quietly.

Nathan sobered, then looked down into her eyes and nodded slowly. "She's going to require a lot of attention," he said steadily. "The fact that her mutation is stable is wonderful... really, really wonderful, but who knows if..." He stopped, changed tacks. "I think we should be content with our good fortune and focus on being everything she needs us to be?" He reached out and brushed stray locks of red hair back from her eyes. "My opinion, at least," he said quietly.

"Thankfully, I agree." She made a face. "Besides, I'm gettin'...old..." Another grimace. "An' I dinnae think I could do tha' again, nay wit' there bein' precedence for babies wit' mutations before they can even walk."

"You're not getting old," Nathan said loyally, "but really? We have one little miracle to bring joy to our lives. And you have a lot of work to do... important work, in addition to being a mother. Right now, the three of us... I think you and I can both have our cake and eat it too. Work and family. It's a good balance we've found."

"Any more an' I think we'll lose tha' balance." Though God knows she'd give anything to have an additional two to their family. But that was in the past and not something they could actually affect. "Besides, Ray would terrorize a siblin'."

"Thoroughly." A pause. "You don't really think she's evil, is she? She seems so happy most of the time..."

Moira snorted. "Dear, if I thought she was evil I wouldnae 'ave taken away Mr. Bunny. Nathan, she's a baby. An intelligent, super powered baby but a baby. Babies are th' most selfish individuals known ta man an' they dinnae really know any better."

Nathan was trying very hard to repress a smile. "It's just this... evil little sparkle her thoughts get. Reminds me terribly of you."

"O' me?" She huffed. "Please, I was nothin' like tha' as a child." No, she thought, she'd probably been worse.