xp_logs | Moira/Nathan (backdated to the Manny stuff)

This was ridiculous, Nathan thought, staring up at the ceiling of the bedroom. His head hurt, his eyes burned, and every muscle in his body was voicing its own individual protest. He had managed a grand total of about twenty minutes of sleep since he'd spoken to Marie this afternoon, and he'd woken up from that in a cold sweat, dreaming about--*stop dwelling on it, damn it!* he snarled at himself.

He sat up, staring blankly into the shadows for a moment, and then got out of bed, tottering a little as he made his way over to the door. It took him a moment to manage the lock, and then he was out in the brightly lit hall, squinting.

Moira's room was right across the hall. He hesitated for a moment, then raised his hand and knocked.

Moira glanced up. She had been working on a last piece of research before collapsing in bed and the knock startled her. She glanced at the clock. After 1 a.m. She was worried and threw on some shorts under the t-shirt she had been wearing.

"Comin'!" she sent out, making sure she was decent. If this was another emergency, she'd scream. She was tense when she opened the door and blinked. "Nathan?" Her eyes took him in. Shaking, soaked in sweat and looking awful. "What's wron'?"

He stared down at her for a moment, then mustered a smile that had to look fairly ghastly from the way her eyes widened. "Hi, Moira," he said, his voice little more than a croak. "Don't suppose you'd like to drug me again?"

"Nay, not in tha' condition." She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. "I knew somethin' was goin' on but...I'm sorry, Nathan, I should 'ave come down." She looked him over again. "Nightmares," she asked softly.

"I don't know where the nightmares stop and the hallucinations start anymore," he said weakly, blinking at all the lights in her room. He hadn't woken her up after all. That was good, but that was also bad; one of them should be able to sleep. "There's a line, but I keep forgetting to find out where it is--"

"Come on." Moira pulled on his hand and walked him to the couch. "Sit." She hurried over to the kitchen and got Nathan a glass of water and an asprin. "Try these, it may help. Ye told me were weren't sleepin' well...ho' bad is it?"

He gave a tired laugh. "I'm hardly sleeping at all, Moira. And now there's this empath who wants to play with my mind once it breaks so that he can see how it ticks--"

Moira closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Nate, oh God...I should 'ave said somethin'..." She pushed the glass and aspirin into his hands and sighed. "I'll nay let 'im...-anyone-...do tha' ta ye, promise...I didn't even think what yer reaction ta...shit." She rubbed her eyes. She had been so into her research -for- him that she hadn't really thought of much else that day, except for the quick exercise she had did (which had resulted in a surprisingly amusing talk with Logan and nearly falling on her face, again).

"Don't apologize," he muttered, taking the aspirin and washing it down with a gulp of water. "I'll do--something, I don't know." Another laugh slipped out, a little more unsteady this time. "Not what I wanted to do. And I won't run, I promise. I'm so sick of running, you know--"

Moira took a seat next to him and looked at him sideways. "Really?" Marie had mentioned that he was but this was the first time she had heard him mention anything like this to her. Always on the run, always had to -go- somewhere...she wondered if he could give that up.

"Too much going in circles," Nathan said hoarsely, taking another sip of the water. "Wherever I go, there I am."

Moira tucked her feet under her and eyed him oddly. "Nate, tha' really didna...aye, I guess tha's...it still doesna make much sense. But..." She shrugged. "I'm glad, ye've been on th' go since we met, pretty much."

"Those times on Muir, with you..." He stared into the distance for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "I could breathe there," he said heavily. "I'm not sure about this place yet. There are people like Marie and lots of adorable kids, but--"

"But it's 'ard ta catch yer breat' 'ere. Considerin' I'm runnin' meself so ragged 'ere, I know where yer comin' from." She smiled at her own memories of their times at Muir. "Aye, those were good times," she said softly, slightly lost in memories.

Nathan couldn't help giving her a guilty look, thinking of how much he had added to her burdens. "I shouldn't be keeping you awake," he muttered.

Moira stuck out her tongue and unfolded enough to kick him gently in the butt. "Stop tha', or else we'll be goin' on fer 'ours apologizin' ta each other fer thin's we should/should nay 'ave done, been doin'." She shrugged and leaned back into the couch. "'Sides, I like talkin' ta ye...an' makin' sure yer okay...I can sleep later."

"Listening to me whine--"

"Bloody idiot," she muttered, stretching her foot out again and poked him in the ribs. "Yer adorable when ye whine because it means I get ta smack ye an' ye pout."

"I'm not adorable," he said grumpily. "Wish people would stop saying that. Going to bite the next person that thinks I'm tame--"

"You, tame? Hah, if ye were, I wouldna 'ave so much trouble wit' ye," she said as she copied his grumpy tone. She winked. "Ye talked to yer -coffee-, Nate, I mean...really!" She grinned, amused and pleased with herself.

He sighed heavily. "If I keep not sleeping, going to be doing cute hallucination-related things again before you know it."

"...temptin' but I like ye lucid." She sat forward and stretched. "I jus'...I dinnae want ta give ye another sedative. Not in yer condition an' not...after th' Manny stuff. Anythin' I can do, though?"

"Know anything that works better than counting sheep?" he said with a wan smile.
cablewriter: (done)

"Actually..." She sat up suddenly and grabbed a remote from the arm of the couch. She clicked something on it and her CD player came to life. Softly, strains of Frank Sinatra filled the room. "Always did relax you," she said, sheepishly.

It was easier to smile, suddenly. "You had it in the CD player?" he asked. "Expecting me, were you?"

Moira had the grace to look embarrassed slightly. "A wee bit, aye," she admitted. "'Tis also me favorite CD, ye gave it ta me on me second year sober."

"I'd forgotten that," he murmured, listening as 'I Cover The Waterfront' came on. He felt himself relaxing a little, almost involuntarily.

Moira curled up at the end of the couch, pillowing her head with her arm. "Aye," she said, yawning a little. "I listened to it whenever I wanted a drink, -really- wanted one, an' ye weren't around. Kept me from doin' a lot o' stupid thin's...never did thank ye fer tha'..."

He felt a tightness in his chest. "Right back at you," he said in a low voice, forcing himself to lean back against the couch and take another sip of his water. "Some of the things you stopped me from doing--don't think you were aware of most of them. But you saved my life, Moira. I'm not just talking about the virus."

She raised her head and smiled at him. "An' ye mine...ye pulled me out o' a verra bad place, Nate an' ye've kept me away from there. I dinnae think I can ever...words, Nathan, I dinnae 'ave th' words. An' I doubt I ever will."

He reached out awkwardly, laying his free hand over hers. "You'll be honest with me, right?" he asked, the tightness in his chest only increasing. "If you find out--it can't be fixed. You'll tell me."

Moira sat up, startled, and clutched Nathan's hand. "Wha'...Nathan, I'll -always- be 'onest wit' ye, even if th' trut' 'urts." She took a deep breath. "If it's bad, good, inbetween, ye'll know th' second I 'ave information." Her voice wavered. "I swear on...on...well, ye know..." She felt a weird lump in her throat...it -had- to be fixable. "...it is," she muttered, closing her eyes tightly. "I'll find it, I promise..."

Nathan swallowed, squeezing her hands. "I--just had to hear you say it," he said thickly. She didn't need to know what would have to happen if it wasn't fixable. He had fought too hard to get and keep his autonomy, his freedom, to lose it.

She kept a hold on his hands and took a steadying breath. It had been an entirely bad week for emotions. "Ye'll know th' second I know an'...we'll get through this, I'll find it, find -somethin'-, I don't care what it takes." And she didn't, really. The first time, Muir Island Research Center had just been starting and she had ended up having to sell some personal equipment to get the medicine it took to repress the virus. She had never told him. And that was before they were best friends. Whatever. It. Takes.

Nathan smiled a bit limply, finally letting go of her hand. "I should let you get to sleep," he said. "I think I may finally be getting there myself." The room felt like it was slowly revolving around him.

Moira paused for a second and then reached a hand over and pushed on his chest. She was half-amused that he fell over that easy, mostly worried though. "Oh, like I'll let ye leave like -tha'-, Nathan." Sighing at him, she reached and grabbed the blanket on the back of the couch and spread it over their legs and settled herself into the other side of the couch. "Be a nice Nathan," she muttered, yawning, "an' listen ta th' music an' -sleep-."