xp_logs | Nathan, Jim, and Moira, backdated to Tuesday

Backdated to Tuesday. Nathan takes Rachel for a walk and runs into Jim. The two have a light and productive conversation about Nathan's new project, which finally gets a name. Later that night, Nathan raises the subject of a move out to the boathouse to Moira. She thinks it's a grand idea, and then they proceed to demonstrate that really, they're still newlyweds.

Nathan rolled his eyes at the baby floating at the end of her tether. "I feel like I'm walking around with a balloon," he informed Rachel, who snickered at him and shoved her fist in her mouth, gnawing with a thoughtful look. "Oh-ho. Should I have brought your teething ring?"

"Mmhph. Grmph."

"Right." Nathan kept walking towards the lake, pondering the possibility that his little girl was never going to learn to walk, but would just... float everywhere. Moira had mocked at him when he'd suggested it, and told him that she had things well under control if Rachel's walking got delayed too long. And he had faith. But damn, did the little monkey ever prefer flying.

His back to the shore, Jim sensed them before he heard them. For a moment he actually considered collecting his things and quietly moving away -- but no, that was childish. There impulse to avoid people was pure reflex at this point; his mood had recovered that much, at least. Shaking his head at his own melodrama, Jim folded his sketchbook closed and rose to meet them.

"Time for her walk?" Jim asked, smiling as he indicated Rachel. She burbled happily down at him, and he reciprocated with a light brush of telepathic acknowledgement, feeling secure enough in himself again to venture that much, at least.

"For the afternoon float, yes. We're still working on the walking." Rachel squealed at him and did a lazy somersault in the air, and Nathan shook his head before turning his attention back to Jim. "Rachel needed some exercise. Dad needed some air. He was drowning under the paperwork. Do you have any idea how many pieces of paper need signing when you're founding a humanitarian organization? It's counter-intuitive, I swear."

"Maybe it's a screening process," Jim said, tucking his sketchpad under his arm so he could fish out a cigarette. He lit it and took a drag, being careful to position himself downwind. "If you can survive the paperwork you must be really committed. Has Moira made you hire a lawyer yet? That would probably save some time. And headaches."

"A lawyer and a financial adviser. They both treat me like a delinquent child." But they knew what they were doing and that was what was important.

Jim smiled. "Ah, so totally unlike your position on team. It's good to know something about it is familiar territory, at least." He watched as the baby drifted above them, then halted to make a plaintive noise when she reached the end of her tether. "I heard Cain offered to let you move your base of operations to the boathouse."

"Actually, not just the office but the three of us, entirely." Nathan watched Rachel strain at the tether. At some point she would figure out how to snap it, he was sure. "We`d have more room. And it might be better for Ray. The space."

"True. The additional space will mean she's free to develop her evil baby ways unfettered. Or as unfettered as having Moira for a mother will allow, at any rate. That's a pretty significant check." He exhaled a stream of smoke with a slight smile. #Try not to be too rough on Mommy's sanity,# he sent to Rachel with an undercurrent of gentle amusement. #Even if it's already too late for Daddy's.#

Rachel giggled, bobbing at the end of her tether. Nathan raised an eyebrow at her. "I keep telling myself that you just understand tone, not words..."

"Mwahahah!"

"Yes, I know, sweetie. Daddy's deluding himself."

Jim's smile turned apologetic. "I'm sorry. I need to stop undermining you in front of your beautiful, maniacal daughter. We're just a little. . . uneven right now." He flicked ash onto the path of well-packed earth, shaking his head. "Never mind. Fluffy harmless things. Tell me about your organization. What kind of humanitarian work, exactly? Mostly on the legal side of things, or Salvation Army-type stuff?"

"Both? I can do both, can't I... " Nathan mused as they walked along the path, Rachel still bobbing in the air. "The limit's geographical. I don't have any interest in getting into situations in countries that have, or should have sufficient support structures of their own. The people who really need help are the ones in countries that don't."

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "So . . . are you talking making policy for other countries? Well, not actively, I guess, but helping them to set their own . . ?" He rubbed the back of his head. "Given most third-world countries' reputations with mutants, you may need a lot of lawyers."

"Or to be able to find the few good men in the broken systems who can do what needs to be done with the information they're given," Nathan said, thinking about the Interior minister in Kazakhstan.

"That's true. They do exist. Sometimes it's just a matter of opportunity." The younger man rolled his cigarette reflectively. "So Moira's got the Anodyne Foundation. Have you figured out what you're going to call yours?"

"... you know, I hadn't thought about that yet. Isn't that odd. All this paperwork and I haven't had to fill in a name yet, not even a temporary one." Nathan tugged on the tether and Rachel floated down into his arms, squeaking indignantly. "I've never had to name an organization before," he mused. "Nothing's springing to mind."

"I guess it's a little like naming a child, in a way." Think, Haller. Productive conversation. Jim lifted his gaze from his cigarette to Rachel's pouting face. He just couldn't seem to link things up properly. Somehow he was fine working with the students, but as soon as he was off the job things seemed to unravel again. Oddly, Jim found his thoughts turning to Betsy. Strange how such a very, very unwise decision had made him feel more together than he had in a long time.

Oh, yeah, Jim thought with a sigh, I need to go to that conference. Bad.

"Um," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose to bring himself back into focus. "Names. Let's see. Goals. Values. Ideals. Why are you doing this? What does it represent for you?"

"Lots of things," Nathan said, rubbing Rachel's back. She laid her head against his shoulder, her face smoothing out as she peered at Jim inquisitively. He's tired, Nathan thought. Moira had mentioned something about him taking a few days away from the mansion, though. That was probably a good thing. "It's a pity I can't just call it 'Thumbing My Nose At My Father, Inc.'"

Jim chuckled. "Yeah, with a name like that it's possible people will question your philanthropic motives. Um." He projected slightly apologetic reassurance at Rachel, tightening his shields a little more as he did. #Don't mind me, sweetie. It's nothing. David's head does this all the time.#

"It really does come down to what it means to you, though," Jim continued, raising his cigarette again. "Okay, put it like this. If you had to sum it up in a single word, what would it be?"

"Hope, I suppose," Nathan said after a moment, flushing a little at how ridiculously cheesy that sounded. "I'm not overambitious. The last nine months have taught me how little I can do... but that little's still a lot. If we can bring things to light, get them dealt with, maybe the people we're helping will start to believe that their lives can be made better." Yes, he had better not cherish any thoughts of writing his own press releases.

"The little things add up." Jim took a drag, sinking himself into the comforting burn in his lungs. Breathe in, breathe out. Better. "Okay. Hope. Hope works. Can you think of a way to use that, somehow?" He blinked, a memory making its way through. "Um, in a way that doesn't sound like that 'Hope for the Future' scholarship Forge ran into. That. . . might be a little counter-productive."

"Yeah, bad connotations." Nathan thought. "I wonder if there's something I could pull from the Greeks," he said idly as they walked. "I've always been in favor of doing that. Reclaiming the same words and history and mythology that they used to control us..." It was the perverse side of him, he supposed.

That would be Mistra again, Jim realized as he took another pull, recalling an exchange from the encounter by the art gallery all those months ago. Saul had . . .

Saul -- oh. Oh, no.

Jim whirled away from the other man as the coughing spasm hit, as much to hide the expression on his face as to avoid exposing Rachel to the smoke. He dropped the cigarette and doubled over, pounding on his chest for breath even as he threw another wall around his thoughts to keep the sudden emotional surge away from the other two.

Stupid stupid STUPID, Jim cursed himself, struggling to draw a decent breath, How could you forget? How could I just forget?

Jim's shielding was quite effective; Nathan interpreted it as him choking on the smoke and raised a light TK shield around Rachel's head, frowning. "Bad habit, smoking," he said as lightly as he could. "Listen to you... you all right?"

"Fine," Jim gasped, his face red. "Dumb. Wasn't . . . paying attention. That's all."

It had never been the time. Nathan had been recovering, or he'd had to triage Masque's victims, or he'd been -- distracted. That was what Jim tried to tell himself, anyway. There had never been the time, and then it had slipped out of his mind altogether.

Don't dwell on that, the telepath thought. You've remembered. Make the time.

Just -- not now.

Breathing was still painful, but normalizing. He took a deep breath of fresh air and straightened, wiping at his eyes. "Sorry about that," Jim said with something of his normal equanamity, "hazard of the habit. But -- pulling from the Greeks isn't a bad idea. No one ever argues with classicism."

"Always thought that it was ironic that Gideon did, too. Makes me wonder if the Spartan stuff was his idea in the beginning." Nathan shook his head, telling himself to let it go as Ray gave a squeak as if to chide him for brooding. "Eris, the goddess of strife..." He blinked, chasing the nagging thought at the fringes of his mind.

"There's something to be said for taking a thing that controlled your life and turning it around," Jim said, sensing the nature of the other man's thoughts from his tone of voice alone. "Owning it. That's a powerful message in itself -- for those who know its significance."

"And for those who don't... well, maybe that's not so important." Nathan laughed a bit helplessly. "I just don't want an acronym. Acronyms are the bane of my existence." Something Greek. Like Eris, but not. Why had Gideon thought of Eris? Well, duh. Strength through conflict and disruption.

"Okay. Greek. Not an acronym. Personal significance." Jim ticked these off on his fingers. He doubted Nathan needed the reminder, but the physical cues helped him refocus. The telepath looked over at Nathan, one eyebrow raised. "And -- hope?"

That nagging thought came back, and Nathan's eyes narrowed a little, going distant. Where was that from, why did he... oh. Oh, that was... not funny, but amusing in a fearfully appropriate sort of way. A smile tugged at his lips as he pondered the idea. "'...Elpis alone is still found among the people, promising that she will bestow on each of us the good things that have gone away'," he quoted, then looked at Jim. "Aesop," he explained, the smile broadening. "Elpis would be the spirit that stayed put in Pandora's box."

"I remember that myth." Almost against his will, Jim felt himself returning the smile. The man's obvious enthusiasm was infectious. He was happy to give himself over to it. "Elpis," he said, trying it out. "That has a nice ring to it."

Nathan grinned - and then his face went blank for a moment as his memory presented him rather triumphantly with one more bit of related detail. "There's a painting, by one of the pre-Raphaelites. Of Elpis." The grin returned, widening, and Rachel squealed happily, her eyes sparkling as she caught the intensification of her father's happy mood. "Hope has red hair."

The addition of Rachel's glee was too much. The laugh that came felt easy, natural. "That's definitely not going to help her ego," Jim warned, grinning at the giggling child. "But that's okay. It looks like she'll be more than happy to be daddy's personal significance."

"Too late," Nathan said, kissing the top of the baby's head. She gave a happy coo and snuggled against him, blue and gold dancing in her mind. "She is already."

---

Nathan tucked Rachel in, smiling a little at how peaceful she looked, sound asleep. "Oscar-winning actress in the making," he murmured in amusement, stroking her cheek and then straightened, leaving and closing the nursery door quietly behind him.

He paused, his expression turning thoughtful as he surveyed the living room and his wife sprawled comfortably on the couch, reading files. "Does this place ever start feeling small to you?" he asked as he came over and collapsed in the armchair.

That caught her attention and Moira shot him a confused look. "I'm assumin' yer nay talkin' about th' mansion as a whole," she responded, marking her spot in the folder before shutting it. "Sometimes, I guess. Why?"

"Actually, I just mean the suite." Nathan tilted his head, staring out the window at the darkening sky. "I went to talk to Cain a few days ago about the office space situation. He proposed a swap - we move out to the boathouse, he moves back into the mansion." He looked back at her. "And by 'we' he meant the three of us, not just my office. He seems to think we could do with the extra space. And I've got to say, Moira... the more I think about it, the more I think it might be good for Ray, too. Just a little bit of distance from the house so that she's not... immersed in the atmosphere quite so much."

Hearing all of that, Moira sat back against the couch and crossed her arms. "Huh. 'avin' a house would be nice an' wit' Cain bein' on th' team, I can see why he'd want ta give up all tha' space." Now she was musing out loud. "An' there would be enough space for everythin'." And maybe a move would shake her out of this funk she'd been in, this itch to do...something. But still, that was an awful lot of work when they were already so busy...

"Remember," Nathan murmured, "we have lots of people who'd help move. And our parts of the boathouse, if we decided to do this, probably wouldn't need any work. The office space would, but that's my problem and I can take care of it." He got up and came over to sit down on the couch beside her. "I suppose, realistically speaking, that I could get an office in town. But I was concerned about having to come running back here whenever I got a call to the hangar - and I don't want to stop teaching, either."

"Workaholic," she teasingly accused, curling up against him. "But tha' would be a big pain, especially wit' th' weird 'ours teachin' sometimes 'as. An' ye never know when a mission is goin' ta 'appen. We could make shameless use o' our student and fellow teachers appetites an' muscle..."

Nathan smiled softly and slid an arm around her, kissing the top of her head. "Look who's talking, you whose picture is in the dictionary under the word..." He breathed in the familiar heather smell of her hair, his smile lingering. "Think about it, though. The upper bedroom is bigger than our bedroom here and the living room put together. There's the smaller one downstairs for Rachel, and the kitchen... and then all that office space. It'd work. And I know, it's not like we don't have a place of our own on Muir-" And also, not like this suite didn't have its share of good memories, Nathan acknowledged. "-but maybe it is time for a bit of a change. If it helps," he said with a sudden grin, "I think Cain's finding it too quiet out there in the boathouse for his tastes these days."

Moira snorted in laughter at that. "Wit' Remy gone, Cain 'as no one ta bitch to or about," she agreed, forcing her shoulders to relax. "'Tis a verra good idea, I've jus' been touchy lately. I'm waitin' for everythin' ta calm down before tryin' ta figure out why. Wit' a kitchen, I jus' 'ope ye'll be th' one cookin'."

"The day I get bored of cooking for you is the day I've been buried for three days. And yes, I intended to evoke images of my zombie-self making you french toast, dear," he said as she laughed again.

"Thank ye so verra much for tha' warm an' pleasant mental image," she scoffed, poking him in the ribs.

"You're welcome. I live to serve." It had been a very gentle poke, as pokes went. If she'd really wanted to hit him, she would have slugged him in the jaw instead. "So is this a yes, regarding the move? Because if you like the idea, I'm almost positive I could manage to get us moved over in the space of, oh, say, one of your infirmary shifts. So that all you would have to do is rearrange the knick-knacks and the like."

"Wha' an' miss my chance ta watch ye move 'eavy boxes in an undershirt?" He would mostly use his powers but if she asked nice enough, Moira could probably get him to do some heavy lifting all for her. "An' 'tis a yes about th' move. It'll be fun."

Nathan laughed - loudly - at the images and thoughts that came trickling down the link. "Just for that, I'll pick a nice day and do it with my shirt off. Show off all my Very Manly Scars."

Beaming, Moira kissed him on the cheek. "Aww, I knew I married ye for a reason. Completely free fan service."

"Oooh!" Nathan said suddenly, straightening. "We could shop," he said, his gray eyes twinkling evilly. "New furniture? Remember how much fun we had picking a bed the last time. I wonder if that saleswoman ever recovered from the coronary."

It took a great deal of effort to not laugh at the fact that her husband just squealed like a little girl over furniture shopping. Or, perhaps, potential tormenting of sales people. "We could even go back ta tha' same store," she said with a grin.

Moira was laughing at him, but that was all right. Buying furniture made him happy simply because it was one of those mundane signs of stability that reminded him just how different his life was now than it had been two years ago. And why that was such a good thing.

"They did have very nice beds," Nathan said almost primly.

"Aye, they did," Moira sedately agreed. "In fact, such nice beds tha' I think I'm goin' ta go enjoy th' one we bought from them in th' first place." Leaning over, she placed a lingering kiss on his cheek and then slipped out of his arms with a wink.

Nathan blinked, then grinned a bit sheepishly and got up. "Wait for meeeee," he murmured mock-woefully and followed her into the bedroom.