Back Dated due to Life Going Boom

[x-mactaggart.livejournal.com]

Moira goes to talk to Haller about her decision about Muir and the fact that her schedule is going to be very odd from now on. But someone else needs to know first and then lunch is promised.



Before Moira made a public post about her splitting up her work schedule, there was on last person she needed to tell. Everyone else would handle it fairly well but Jim needed to hear it from her. The reactions she got varied wildly depending on his stress levels and she wanted to make sure he knew she wasn't going anywhere.

Knocking on the door, she announced who it was and stuck her head in. "Ye busy?" she called.

Moira? That was unexpected. Jim lifted his head from his Abnormal Psychology text, craning around in the chair towards the door.

"No, not really," he said, setting the book on a pile of sketches before rising to his feet. The young man raised an eyebrow as he automatically smoothed down his rumpled shirt. "What's up? Is something wrong?"

Closing the door behind her, she couldn't help but grin when she spotted the book. "Is it sad tha' when I say tha' looks like fun, I mean it?" Moira asked, resisting the urge to smooth his shirt herself. He looked like he slept it in, then danced on it for a little bit. "An' nay, nothin's wron' but I did need ta talk ta ye for a wee while."

Jim smiled a little. "A Talk? Uh oh. Should we sit for this?" He waved her over to the couch, then paused. "Um, do you want anything to drink? Sorry, I'm a little scattered right now. We got in pretty early. And then Lorna took me to see Superman, which was good. She made sure I ate afterwards, too." Something which he had reciprocated, as had become common practice for them lately. Jim remembered himself and rubbed the back of his head. "Uh, sorry," he said apologetically. "Being linear now. What did you want to talk to us about?"

"I wish I could let ye sleep but things keep comin' up an' I really wanted ta discuss this before it became public knowledge." Moira was actually surprised that it hadn't spread on the gossip vine more than it already had. She might have to do something she didn't do often in a few minutes but she accepted the offer of a drink first. "But afterwards, I promise ta let ye sleep."

"Okay, now you're making us nervous," Jim said as he returned to the couch with two glasses of ice water. He folded his long legs to sit next to her and regarded her with mismatched eyes. "Don't worry about it, I slept most of this morning and this afternoon. What's going on?"

Taking a deep sip of the water--how she hated the weather in New York--Moira turned slightly to face him a little better. "I really do promise ye 'tis nothin' ta worry about. And good or else I'd 'ave ta glare at ye until ye did sleep."

Deep breath.

"I need ta talk ta Davey first though," Moira said firmly but gently, her tone of voice changing just a touch. It'd been a while since she'd done this.

There was a brief flicker of surprise in Jim's odd-colored eyes, then a spasm passed across his face. The young man slumped for an instant, shuddering, then blinked up at her confusedly. When he did his eyes were blue.

"Moira?" Davey said, automatically glancing around to take stock of his surroundings. Oh. His room. He'd been . . . called. That didn't happen very often. There weren't many people it was safe enough to happen with. But Moira was sitting right next to him with a glass of water in her hand, and not standing over him with that Look she had when he'd done something bad -- and he didn't remember being bad lately anyway -- so it was probably all right. The young alter relaxed and sat back on the couch in his characteristic slouch, a wide grin splitting his face. "Hi!"

Grinning back, Moira reached over and ruffled his hair with one hand. "Hi yerself. Sorry ta 'ave called ye out like tha' but I wanted ta talk ta ye about somethin' tha's goin' ta be 'appenin' soon. An' nay, 'tis nothin' ye've done...unless ye've done somethin' I dinnae know about." She purposelly glanced at the walls and then grinned when he protested his innocent. "Davey, I wanted ta let ye know tha' I'll be workin' at Muir a lot more comin' up. I'll actually be splittin' my week between th' Mansion an' there, commutin' back an' forth. It doesnae mean I'll be gone, because I willnae be, but I did want ta talk ta ye about it, see if it would make ye upset or nay."

Davey's brow furrowed at these words, his ability to process a little delayed in aftermath of the switch. "You'll be gone," he said uncertainly, "but not really?" He knew she'd been going back more recently -- in the times she was gone she often left notes for Davey in case he came out and wanted to see her. He pulled at his face and noticed Jim hadn't shaved this morning. Wrinkling his nose, he tried to focus on the essentials. "So . . . you won't live here anymore?"

"Oh, nay, I will still live 'ere," Moira assured him. "Nathan an' I'll still be in th' boat house wit' Rachel, only there'll be some days when I'm jus' nay 'ere. Muir is important ta me but so is this school an' every one in it, like ye."

Davey pondered this, although he spared a moment for some smugness as he did. Moira had said he was important.

"Well," he said finally, "I guess that's okay. As long as you're still gonna be here some of the time." With a heavy sigh he slid down across the couch to lean his forearms on Moira's thigh, pillowing his cheek in his arms. He regarded her with a mournful look from the vicinity of her lap.

"Work's okay as long as you're not going away away. Because I'd miss you too bad. Plus Charles says we need Stability," Davey added, guilting shamelessly because he knew David never would. He knew that wasn't fair, though, and pulled back. "So it's good. That you're not, I mean." He gazed up at her with guileless blue eyes. "Does Jim know yet?"

Even though Moira knew what Davey had been up too--she'd been on the end of far too many of his puppy dog eyes and mournful looks over the years--a slight pang echoed in her. He was going to end up with a great deal of gifts and treats from her visits back and forth, she thought wryly. "Nay, Jim doesnae know yet. I know tha' sometimes ye 'ave a 'ard time absorbin' an' gettin' information after Jim's been told, so I wanted ta tell ye first so ye wouldn't be upset."

"Yeah, because Jim's a dork," Davey replied, promptly and without rancor, then grinned up at her. "It'd be better if you stayed all the time, but it'll be okay. Because you told me first." As quickly as it had come, the grin fell away. "Except you got to promise you'll keep telling me stuff. Otherwise I'm not going to know hardly anything, and that's not fair." I'll be too lonely.

Moira dropped one hand down and ran it through his hair gently, undoing the knots that had come with little sleep and frustration. "I'll always keep tellin' ye stuff," she promised firmly. "I love ye all an' ye're all a part o' me family." It was hard, she thought to herself, to love so many different people, so much, at all once.

Davey moved to wrap his arms around Moira's waist. He hugged her tightly, the side of his face pressed against her ribs. "Then we'll be okay," he whispered, voice muffled by her shirt. "If you promise."

Leaning over, she hugged him as best she could from the weird angle she ended up in. "I always come through on my promises for ye," she reminded him teasingly but serious at the same time. "An' we're always okay."

"Yeah." Davey enjoyed the hug for a minute, eyes closed, the ever-present chemical smell of the labs that clung to her settling around him like an old friend. After a long moment he drew away, face crinkling in distaste. "I guess you have to tell Jim now. But you have to see me first before you go next time. Promise that, too." He leaned his head against her shoulder and gave her an imploring look. "Please?"

"Why dinnae we 'ave breakfast..." She stopped and huffed at the expression on his face. "Alright, alright, lunch ye lazy wee bugger." Pausing to tickle him slightly, Moira grinned. "We'll 'ave lunch an' just some time for th' two o' us, alright?"

Yelping at the tickle-ambush, Davey rocked back on the couch and folded himself into a defensive position. "You're no fair," he complained as he huddled around his vulnerable ribs, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face. "But okay. Yeah! Lunch. Oh! And I can ask Charles! That'd be really good." He added, smugly, "That way you can both pay attention to me."

If Moira's mouth twitched a little bit, it went unnoticed. But that was probably because she was advancing on him again, fingers outstretched. "I never play fair," she reminded him. "But aye, we'll pay ye loads o' attention an' feed ye until ye want ta burst. 'ow does tha' sound?"

"It sounds good. And I'm telling Charles if you do that again!" Davey flailed away from her onto the arm of the couch to escape the encroaching fingers, hands outstretched to keep her at bay. "No! You better stay back or Charles will know! He can hear us with his brain!"

"An' Charles will jus' quirk tha' one eyebrow at me as I threaten ta roll him inta th' lake..." That got a giggle. "...an' then offer us tea." She had a sneaking suspicion that Charles owned stock in certain tea companies. "An' maybe some scones if we're verra lucky."

"Only if they're blueberry, 'cause the other kinds are dry. But lunch!" Davey said, reinforcing the most important point. He regarded her loftily, an expression which was slightly detracted from by the fact he was still perched on the arm of the couch, but did make him more formidible. "Lunch for sure, and Jim doesn't get to steal it. Because that's ours."

There was no making an American see the wonder in scones, not even an American she loved as dearly as Davey and the rest. "I promise tha' Jim will nay be able ta steal anythin'," she swore, covering her heart with one hand.

"Okay." Davey flopped back onto the couch and beamed at her, two days' worth of stubble suddenly lost to his childish pleasure. "It's a promise."