xp_logs | Moira and Nathan, Monday morning...

The first thing Nathan noticed as he drifted back to consciousness was a familiar smell. A hospital smell. The thought sent a shock through him, and he struggled to open his eyes, further unsettled by the fact that he didn't recognize the room he was in. It was all blurry, but still-- "Moira?" he croaked. Someone was close, but he wasn't sure who.

Moira had been sitting close by, a cup of coffee in her good hand. She moved quickly to the bed. "Aye, Nathan," she replied, checking his vitals. "Welcome back ta th' land o' th' livin'."

He raised a hand (which seemed to weigh a ton) and rubbed at his eyes. Scowling absently up at the ceiling, he tried to reconstruct what had happened after Moira had arrived at the safehouse in Vaduz. The pieces didn't want to fit back together. Everything was very hazy. She had convinced him to take some sort of sedative so that he could get some sleep, but this definitely wasn't the safehouse.

"Where are we?" he asked, coughing to clear his throat. Sitting up was definitely out of the question for the time being, he suspected.

She eyed him warily, a little worried about how he would take it. She glanced over at Alison, who was behind her, and she gave her a thumbs up. That was not reassuring. "We're...ah...kindo'inNewYorknowatXavier'smansion." She paused. "Coffee?"

Nathan groaned before he could help himself. "You--drugged me, didn't you?" he asked with a groggy sort of indignation, squeezing his eyes shut. "Again. I mean again."

"Only a wee bit." She stood up on tiptoe to peer into his face. "I was worried somethin' would 'appen on th' plane ride over...an' ye -still- snore loudly."

"Evil--evil woman," Nathan muttered fitfully, opening his eyes and staring up at her. "You and your drugs. You like doing it. Don't deny it." He would have said more, but stopped himself as he saw that she was giving him that fretful look he hated. Moira shouldn't worry like that. It was one of those things that should be written into law somewhere.

"...well, maybe a wee bit." She reached over to take his wrist in her hand to feel for his pulse, wincing when she jostled her other arm (now in a Pretty Damned Good ArmSling courtesy of Hank McCoy himself). "How do ye feel, Nathan?" Moira was still worried but he was looking better than the day before and his pulse was actually slowing to a normal rate. Fear of him having a heart attack on her was starting to abate.

"Floaty," Nathan said, after thinking about it for a moment. Moira blinked down at him, as if taken aback by his response, and he scowled at her. "Coffee," he growled. "You put it in the coffee, didn't you? You profaned coffee."

At -that- she looked incredibly guilty. "Twas th' only way ye'd take it," she muttered at him, darkly. "Bet ye didnae even taste th' damned thin'." She did feel bad about drugging him but she didn't know how he would react to a stealth jet with X-Men in leather coming to pick them up. She didn't even know how he reacted to regular leather, let alone this kind.

"I don't remember," he said, and could have hit himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. *No whining, Dayspring.* He managed to turn his head to one side without it falling off, and studied that side of the room a bit blearily for a moment. "So we're here," he said, his throat feeling strangely thick again. The drug, surely. "I close my eyes, and here we are--"

Moira couldn't help giving him a slight kicked-puppy look. "I'm sorry, Nathan...but I didna know how much ye trusted me...it's always...oh an' like druggin' ye 'elped any." She stomped to the table opposite and poured herself another cup of coffee. She shouldn't feel this bad, but she did. "Aye, here we are."

Nathan closed his eyes with a sigh. "I trust you, Moira," he murmured, his voice catching. "I'm just so tired. Hate feeling helpless."

Moira was back at his side faster than she should have been. "Oh Nathan, I'm sorry. Bloody 'ell...ye scared me, 'is all." She laid a hand on his gently. "An' I know ye 'ate it an' I want ta 'elp. I was able ta last time, I should be able ta tis time."

He opened his eyes and looked up at her, managing a wan smile. "I could be really depressing and point out that there are things that can't be fixed," he said, the words coming out more clearly this time. "But I'm afraid you'll hit me."

"I will. Repeatedly. Wit' somethin' heavy." Moira shrugged. "Ye know I'd do anythin' ta 'elp ye, even if'n it meant sleepless nights, me sanity or...well..." She stopped, not wanting to say "risking my life" because then he'd hit -her-.

His smile grew a little, despite how generally crappy he felt. Despite everything. "You're sappy," he said, and then stopped, his eyes widening. He hadn't just said that.

Her eyes went even wider than his had. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, relieved to see that Alison had left. "I am bloody well not!" she snapped, looking back at him.

"You drugged me," Nathan said as meekly as he could manage, still appalled at himself. "I'm not responsible for what comes out of my mouth."

"Yes...you...I am not!"