xp_logs | LOG: [Moira, Rachel, Haller] 6:30 am in the Medlab

Three hours after Nathan's unannounced hiatus it becomes obvious that the twenty-four hour grace period is not necessarily going to be met. Thank you, cranky telepathic baby, for blowing Daddy's cover.

He'd calmly made certain to shower and shave before coming down. He wasn't panicking, after all. There was no reason to think he should be. Just a certain . . . unease. And at six-thirty in the morning, a nagging suspicion wasn't enough to warrant frantic irrationality.

He was probably overreacting, Jim thought wryly as he entered the Medlab, but then, he was reasonably sure Moira would understand. She knew he wasn't used to being sensitive to the emotional state of outside minds. The fact that the one he was sensing now belonged to her daughter wouldn't hurt.

Of course, given the noise Rachel was currently making Jim suspected an ex-patient's paranoia ranked rather low on Moira's list of priorities right now.

"Moira? What's wrong?"

Moira gave him a startled look, all of her attention had been on Rachel who was shrieking her lungs out. And had been all morning. With Nathan having gone early, she'd managed a total of three hours between the two happenings. The baby in her arms was crying the cry of someone who was slightly sick, not used to it and clearly unhappy about it.

"I...dinnae think anythin's wron'," she replied, rocking Rachel a little bit more. "Rachel's a wee bit sick, got some o' this flu tha's been goin' around. An' well...th' normal..."

Jim glanced at the squalling infant in her arms, then back up at Moira. He didn't want to call her a liar, but . . . well, he was about to call her a liar. "Um," he said, rubbing the back of his head, "Define 'normal' . . ? Ray actually woke me up. It doesn't just feel like sick." Which was as close as he would get to trying to outline the cold, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure it was for the reason he thought it was, but he had his suspicions, and being this close to Rachel only made them stronger.

Pulling a face at him, she snorted which caused Rachel to wriggle in her arms a bit more. "Lovely." She sighed and placed a kiss on the slightly warm forehead of the unhappy baby. "Well, at least I know wha' ta use if I really need ta wake ye up." Moira glanced around him and sighed. It was early yet but she'd rather be cautious, even if her husband wasn't. "Close th' door for a second, would ye?"

That wasn't a good sign. Jim nodded a pulled the door closed, then settled himself into a chair. The tension was doing no good for his inner balance. He might as well just ask flat-out. "It's Nathan, isn't it?"

At that, Rachel let out a horrific scream, mentally and verbally, and both the adults in the room winced. Already slightly red from the fever, she went slightly redder as she fussed, wriggling about. Moira had to hastily duck a levitated bottle which crashed to the floor after a word of warning. It didn't stop her from crying though.

"Whatever made ye think tha'?" Moira asked him dryly.

Jim smiled faintly. "He does have a reputation." He closed his eyes for a moment to brush against the infant's mind, projecting a comforting pulse of reassurance. A weak effort, but all he could think of. #Shhhh. It's okay, sweetie.#

"He's on her mind," Jim said aloud, opening mismatched eyes again. "She wants her father, and he's . . . gone."

"Ye make coverin' up for me 'usband so much 'arder." Gingerly, she sat back down in the rocking chair and Rachel hushed a little more, soothed by the familiar sensations. The slight link that stretched between them was full of irritated and cranky baby thoughts and Moira had to fight a little not to let them spill onto what she was thinking. "Aye, he left this mornin', early. Again. Goin' after his family." If Moira didn't look happy about it that's because she wasn't.

Jim stared at her. "His family," the telepath repeated flatly. "His family, who mutilated his memories and killed his best friend." Oh, Nathan. I'm supposed to be the clinically insane one . . .

With fairly good aim, Moira kicked a squeaky toy at Jim and it bounced off of his knee. "...ye might be right on track more than I'll let on." Settling back, she propped Rachel on her shoulder and suddenly looked incredibly tired. "There was nay anythin' I could say ta get 'im ta stand down. An' he was smart this time an' dinnae give me much information. Last time I sent people alon' with him."

"Right. Because that would have been stupid." That was unfair, but right now Jim wasn't really in a generous place. Too many pieces were coming together. Nate's vision in his office, his precognitive flash and their conversation after meeting Saul . . . Jim rubbed his face with his hands. "I can't believe he did that," he muttered, half to himself. "I can't believe he'd leave . . ." his wife and daughter ". . . alone."

The look on her face would have been almost funny any other time. "Ye 'avenae known Nathan all tha' lon', 'ave ye?" she said simply, with a smile. "Some instincts are 'arder ta let go than others."

"Yeah. I know." Jim sighed and lowered his hands, sinking back in his chair. "I just . . . what was he thinking?" He refused to tell her about the visions Nathan had shared with him. There was no way to understand what Nathan had seen, and no guarantee they would happen even if there had been. The thought of putting that on Moira made him sick.

Moira frowned as she rubbed Rachel's back lightly. "Is everythin' alright or should I be more concerned than I already am?" she asked quietly. Getting up, she went to put Rachel down in the crib now that the screaming and crying had subsided. Sleep was coming and there was a want for Mr. Bunny. Moira did keep looking over her shoulder at Jim with a frown on her face.

"I don't know," Jim said honestly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Nathan's been seeing things about Gideon lately. Things he didn't understand. Then we ran into Saul, and he . . ." I was there. I was right there when he decided, and I didn't do anything. "I told him to be careful," he whispered.

“Do ye think Nathan’s goin’ off without waitin’ for everythin’ ta fit into one big picture?” Though she wanted to sit back down, Moira let Rachel snuggle against her hand for a bit. She tended to do this before falling asleep, wanting that last bit of contact before they slipped away. “If he did, I’m goin’ ta ‘urt ‘im verra badly when he gets back.”

Nathan tended to lose his head a bit when it came to his family. Understandable but, still. “I should ‘ave protested more, though I doubt he would ‘ave listened.”

This elicited another sigh. "Yeah. He probably wouldn't have. His mind was made up." Jim watched the drowsing baby in Moira's arms, feeling her fitful mind slowly calm. He sent her another comforting brush of telepathy, psychic fingertips against her cheek. "I understand that he didn't think there was any other way. I even understand why. But I . . . if something goes wrong then Rachel . . ." Why couldn't he let this go? It was wrong to keep shoving this at Moira; she already knew, and had more than enough worries of her own. She didn't need him making it worse.

This time, she did finally free herself from Rachel and watched as the baby fell into a still cranky nap. Turning around, Moira went to join Jim and placed a hand on his shoulder to squeeze lightly. It was very, very obvious where most of this was coming from. Not just worry about Nathan as a person and a friend but there are definite shades of old fears there. “I cannae say tha’ nothin’ will ‘appen on this ‘trip’, we both know tha’ would be a lie.” Between them, they had far too many loses to be able to lie about something like that. “We dinnae know. But I feel safe in knowin’ tha’ Nathan’ll try ta come ‘ome ta us in one piece nay matter th’ cost. We’ll be okay.”

Take the comfort, he told himself. "He loves you. Both of you. He'll fight. With everything he's got. I know." He closed his eyes and concentrated on her hand on his shoulder. He had to take the comfort, and turn his mind from the truth they had both learned long ago: that not even love could conquer death.

Squeezing again, Moira’s look softened. “An’ we’d do th’ same, in a ‘eart beat.” There was a beat of a pause and she laughed a little. “Well, when Rachel’s older. Th’ most she can do right now is throw Mr. Bunny at someone if she concentrates an’ cry.”

He managed a smile. "Or hurl a small woodland creature. She's good at that, too." He exhaled slowly and rubbed the back of his head, willing the tight feeling in his chest to go away. Set emotion aside. You're an adult now. Reason. "I need to think," Jim said slowly. "You're going to tell the others, right?" Of course she would. In a few hours Nathan's absence would be undeniable, and respecting her husband's wishes or not, Moira wasn't an idiot.

Moira nodded. “Aye, I’m nay about ta let ‘im sneak off without sayin’ somethin’. I wouldnae be surprised if Charles already knew but I cannae say for certain. ‘Tis early yet an’ I ‘avenae seen ‘im or made contact.” Busy schedules might have made it harder for a sit down with old friends but it was easier to do simply little chats when one of them was a telepath. “Once people are up an’ movin’, I’ll drop them a line. Nathan’s nay been gone long, he cannae ‘ave gotten inta trouble jus’ yet. Or, well, much.”

Her former patient's smile went wry. "I guess there's always hope," Jim agreed. He ran a hand over his face again. "They'll go after him. Maybe there's something I can . . ." He trailed off. In fact, looking back at what information Nathan had given him about his visions, he was starting to get a very specific idea of what that might be. And he didn't think Moira was going to like it. "Um," he said, "How mad would you be if I was considering something potentially dangerous but also possibly life-saving?"

Moira’s eyes narrowed sharply at that. “It depends,” she said slowly. “Define dangerous. Is it stupid an’ dangerous or jus’ dangerous?” There was a difference. For example, Nathan was currently embroiling himself in a stupid and dangerous situation. The last thing she wanted was to have both of them cheerfully throwing themselves headfirst into a battle that no one clearly understood.

"Okay, maybe a little," Jim admitted, "but much, much less than trying to throw my brain at an elder god." Granted, that had been under Charles' supervision and turned out well enough in the end, but Jim didn't think anything he could come up with could possibly knock it out of his Top Three.

“Are ye goin’ ta use tha’ for every ‘This isn’t dumb, just look at this!’ situation?” Moira demanded and then sighed, throwing her hands in the air. “Alright, I’ll bite. Wha’s yer Dangerous an’ Stupid Plan tha’ I’m probably nay goin’ ta like but ‘ave ta go alon’ wit’ anyway?”

He coughed. "Um . . . goingwiththeteam."

There was a pause as she stared at him for a second.

“Oh. Well. Alright, then.”

Jim actually had to replay that twice before his mind would acknowledge the lack of whapping. "Wow," he said, raising his eyebrows, "you really are pissed off at him, aren't you?"

“Ye ‘ave nay idea,” Moira replied with a tight smile. She shrugged, though, and sighed. “I’m worried ‘bout ye goin’ off after ‘im but at least yer nay runnin’ off without support. Th’ X-Men get themselves inta trouble on a regular basis, if ye dinnae mind me sayin’, but they’re good at keepin’ each other whole an’ safe. I trust them ta brin’ ye back in one piece.” Or else they would all be faced with something a lot worse than what they could be facing out in the field when they got back.

"Don't worry, the line of fire's the last place I intend to be." Normally Jim would have been embarrassed by how much relief the permission had brought him. This time, however, the relief had nothing to do with emotional immaturity and everything to do with the fact that Moira's displeasure was something no man courted.

Not that it would have stopped him. David had already made up his mind. The rest was a foregone conclusion.

"We'll bring him back," Jim said, getting to his feet. "That'll work out well, because then you can kill him."

“Ye always did bring me th’ best presents. Come on, then, let’s leave Rachel ta ‘ave a wee nap while I go get some medicine for ‘er.” Moira slipped her arm through his and sighed. “An’ we can talk strategy, aye?”