xp_logs | Moira and Nathan, backdated again to last night

Moira sat on the edge of her bed, watching Nathan as he rested. She didn't know if he was fully asleep or starting to come out of it, but the more rest he got, the better. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. Her mind kept flickering back to the tests results of the virus and she shuddered. It had come very close, too close, to him losing complete control. She needed to know everything that had happened, so she would wait for as long as it would take for him to wake up.

Something was wrong. Even in his unconscious state, Nathan was aware of that much. Something had happened--something bad. The darkness seemed like a prison, now, instead of a refuge, and he started to fight, to claw his way upwards, towards the light.

When he stirred, Moira was at the head of the bed in a flash. "Nathan?" His face creased as he started to wake up. "Shhh, 'tis okay, Nathan, I'm here..."

Cold. Why was it so cold? He struggled to open his eyes, feeling Moira there - so worried, why was she so worried? The light hurt his eyes and he closed them again with a whimper, shivering.

She placed her hand gently on his forehead and cursed. A fever. She was in and out of her bathroom in a flash, wet washcloth in one hand and glass of water in the other. She put the glass down and gently put the cloth on his forehead.

It was starting to come back together. He'd been in his room, and Manuel had--panic blazed up inside him, adrenalin flooding his system, and he jolted upright, not hearing Moira's surprised curse. "No--NO!" he gasped out wildly. Hands were reaching out to him suddenly and he jerked away, falling off the bed. The impact of the floor drove most of the air out of his lungs and he laid there, gasping. *No--no-what did I dowhatdidIDO?*

"Nate!" Moira dropped the rag and knelt next to him, hands hovering. "Shhh, Nathan, listen ta me voice, calm, nice an' calm. Yer alright, yer safe." She started to reach for him, slowly.

He flinched away with a moan, curling in on himself, shaking. The memory solidified, and he saw himself turn away from Manuel. Saw the kid snap at him and reach out with his power--and then something had happened, something had been triggered, and all he could do was to force the power away from the kid. #DidIhurthimpleaseItriedItriedsohardnotto--# The thoughts tumbled over each other and he didn't even realize he was projecting them.

Moira's head snapped back at the sudden flood of thought and feeling into her mind. She grunted and grabbed her head, unused to this. But perhaps she could use this, she thought around the storm. She didn't know how but maybe he would hear her. #Nathan, please, listen ta me voice. 'e's okay, yer okay. Yer safe, I've got ye, pleasepleasebabycomebackshhhokayit'llbeokay#. She tried to send warm, comforting thoughts but...her head hurt, she had no idea if that had actually -worked- or if she had been talking to herself.

#I told him--I told him I was conditioned--# Nathan thought deliriously, not sure who he was talking to, barely aware of his physical surroundings as the horror of what he'd almost done flooded up and choked him. Someone was breathing raggedly, almost in sobs. #I told him but he reached inside my head and wouldn't stop and something happened--I couldn't stop myself and he wouldn't get out--the trigger, it was a triggerandIcouldn'tstopitohGodI'msorry--#

#Shhh, yer back, ye didna 'arm 'im.# Calm, calm, calm. The talking was easy but projecting feelings of calm and caring and good emotions was making Moira's head hurt. She wasn't supposed to be doing this, she was human, untrained but her fear and worry for Nathan ran roughshod over that. She didn't realize that her nose was starting to bleed. She needed to pull him back. #Nathan, I need ye, please, come back, ye'll be okay, I won't let them 'urt ye.#

He heard the words and clung to them, willing them to be true. The voice--Moira's voice, he realized, kept talking to him--inside his head? Shaking, he tried to pull himself together, to focus on his surroundings again. The carpet--he could feel the carpet underneath him. Moira leaning over him, breathing hard. But he was raw inside his head, his mind throbbing and burning and he felt--he could still feel the echo of the kid pushing at him, trying to force him to--

The blood from her nose was now dripping onto her lips but she paid it no mind. #Shhh, I'm 'ere, Nate.# She paused as she -felt- him tense up. #Nathan?# Unconsciously, she licked the blood from her mouth.

"No," he murmured brokenly, curling tighter. He drew back inside his shields, trying to find a safe place, one where he couldn't be touched. Except there was no safe place from this. There never had been and there never would be. His grip on reality started to fragment again, and the memories flooded up, choking him.

Moira's head snapped back and she gave a startled scream as Nathan's memories slammed into her mind. She fell back against the bed, hands tightly gripping her head. The nosebleed worsened. His wife, his son, the virus. Flashes and fragments assaulted her mind and she jerked, crying out. She was drowning, she was suffocating, the virus was attacking...she struggled to keep a sense of self.

#naymenaymeNAY.ME.#

And then, suddenly, like a lifeline. Muir Island. A blur of memory, bitter sweet, but familiar. Home. He had called it home. And with her panicked mind, she recalled all their times at Muir, all the good and forced them against the flow of bad. Her head was going to explode, it felt like something was trying to tear it out. Not supposed to do this, not supposed to be able to do this.

--there was a bird calling out, circling in the cloudy sky high above. Nathan watched it for a moment, then looked back out at the sea, shimmering gray and silver and so beautiful. Smiling to himself, he picked his way across the rocks of the beach. Moira was standing by the path leading back up to the clinic, waving to him. Her hair shone red in the soft morning light, like a beacon--

Moira whimpered slightly. That was it, just like that...#Nathan, please, aye, jus' come back ta me.# She focused on that memory, shoved every good thing she had into it.

--and he was back, on the floor of the bedroom. The memory of the beach was still there in the front of his mind, cool and soothing in the face of the inferno of shame and fear, anger and pain, and he held to it, breathing in with short, ragged gasps as he fought for control. It hurt, it still hurt like hell, but he could almost feel his way towards some sort of balance.

"Oh God," Moira groaned, the pressure suddenly gone from her mind. Her head still ached but it was silent again. She slumped back against the bed, unable to prop herself up without it. "N-nathan?"

Moira--he'd hurt Moira, he realized suddenly as his head cleared a little further. And he could feel it, not just in the sort of vague telepathic way he felt things but deep down, in a place inside his shields. Cold shock rolled over him in a wave and he struggled to push himself up onto his hands and knees, still fighting to silence the turmoil inside his head.

She finally felt the blood coming out of her nose and she wiped at it frantically. She stopped when she noticed Nate's sudden struggle to get up. "Nathan! Stop, lay down." She winced, her head pounding at the noise. ''Tis like a bloody 'angover,' she thought.

There was no strength in his arms. He slumped back to the floor with another whimper. "H-Hurt you--" he whispered raggedly, and instinctively, before he thought about what he was doing, reached into that place where her presence was and took the pain away.

It was like someone wrapped her mind in silk and warmth. She whimpered slightly and relaxed, the pain going away slowly. "...wort' it," she got out. "Yer back..."

And she meant it, he realized, meant that and even more. She would have done even more, endured even more--it was hard to breathe again all of a sudden, but the tightness in his chest was of a completely different sort. All of his defenses were messed up, and even if they hadn't been she was there, inside, everything in her mind as clear as her smile had been on the beach that day. A moan wrenched itself free from his throat and Nathan hid his face against the carpet, ignoring the wetness trickling down his cheeks. She couldn't. She was too good, too kind, and all he did was destroy things and people, even when he was just trying to hold onto them--

"Oh no, sweetie, 'tis okay..." Moira struggled to her knees and, after making sure most of the blood was gone, reached for him. "Shhhh." Her mind was still filled with softness but it was starting to go away now, panicked it felt like.

She slid her arms beneath his head and cradled it on her lap. Nathan was retreating quickly from her mind and she winced at the withdrawal. She took a deep breath and sent towards him her own feeling of warmth, caring, everything she had again. Moira wiped the sweat and tears from his face. "Nathan, 'tis okay," she murmured. "Yer safe."

It was too hard to keep feeling it all, there just wasn't enough room inside his head and he didn't have the strength to keep fighting. Still shivering violently, he closed his eyes and tried to believe her.