xp_logs | Rahne, Moira, and Nathan, Sunday afternoon... (Reply)

Rahne ventures to Moira's room to check on both of its current inhabitants.

Rahne always felt a little strange on the rare occasions she went up to the third floor, but Marie-Ange's post had her worried. Actually, it was more that Marie-Ange's post, and something Mr. D-- Nathan had said when she had come to see Lady Moira on Friday, and some comments she remembered Manuel making in Nathan's journal had her worried. And the racket yesterday evening. Plaster dust? She made a left turn and hesitated just briefly before rapping on Lady Moira's door.

Moira stuck her head out of the bathroom. Yes, that was a knock she had heard. She finished towel drying her hair and headed out. A quick glance at Nathan showed her he was still in bed, though she didn't know if he was asleep or not. Her head still throbbed slightly from what happened last night. She edged the door open and then smiled tiredly. "Rahne."

Rahne tried not to look too taken aback. Lady Moira looked... exhausted. Rahne was starting to feel as if every time she turned around, somebody else looked awful. "Aye. I -- I'd heard something happened." Well, that was vague. "And I was a bit worried...."

"Come in, lass." She held the door open for her and then shut it gently once she was inside. "Aye, thin's were...right messed up last night."

Deep inside his own mind, still trying to sort out what had happened and what was going on still, Nathan heard the soft voices and a part of him focused on them, dimly interested. One was Moira, he thought. The other---the girl who'd been the wolf. Rahne. Hearing another Scottish accent was strangely soothing.

But it wasn't enough to to pull him back all the way. He was still trying to seal off the parts of himself that were raw and wounded, to stem the psychic bleeding. He hadn't even tried yet to figure out the place inside his shields that still, even hours later, felt like Moira.

"I thought so. Manuel was stomping about, and I remembered Nathan'd mentioned expecting him...." Rahne frowned and bit her lip. "I said so to Marie-Ange, but I suppose I oughtn't as I'm not sure if 'twas really it..."

"Aye, 'e was," Moira assured her. "'e was expectin' 'im...jus' nay like tha'." Moira paused for a second and looked over her shoulder at where Nathan was as she heard... something. That was odd.

"Does anybody ever really know what to expect with Manuel?" Rahne asked wryly. "Is -- is it all right if I ask what did happen?"

Moira sighed and rubbed her neck, flashes of Nate's memories replaying themselves in her mind. Which was also very odd, and more than slightly alarming. "It...appears tha' Manuel came ta Nathan fer information. Nathan panicked, which means Manuel panicked." She sighed. "Manuel pushed an' somethin' in Nate cracked. 'e lashed out but managed t' keep 'imself from 'urtin' 'im an' knocked 'imself out instead."

"Manuel didna look panicked." Rahne frowned. But Manuel would lose his temper after something like that, probably. She thought. "Will Nathan be all right?" And she should know better than to ask that, after enough helping in the Medlab.

"I 'ope so...I think so. 'e jus' needs some time." And for her to perform a minor miracle in her research.

"I'll pray for him," Rahne promised. Most of the school probably wouldn't think that would do any good, but at least Lady Moira wasn't likely to snipe at her for it.

Moira smiled. "Thank ye." She and God weren't on the best of terms but she appreciated the sentiment.

The edges were softening, Nathan thought disjointedly, and opened his eyes. The room didn't feel entirely solid around him, as if he was only half-here, but--"Moira?" he called out weakly.

Moira hurried to his side in the bedroom. "'ey ye," she said gently. "Ye feelin' okay?"

He blinked up at her. "I--feel cold," he mumbled, a bit uncertainly. But despite the sense of detachment he felt, that inner--splintering, he could think, at least. "Manuel. Is he--okay?"

"Aye, annoyed, but when 'is 'e not?" she replied, tucking him in more tightly under the thick comforter. She let her hand rest against his briefly.

"I tried--" He stopped, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to pull his thoughts together as they tried to disintegrate again under the force of the memory. "Shouldn't have--but I thought I had to tell him--"

"Ye didna know wha' would 'appen," Moira chided softly, smoothing his hair a little. "'e's fine, yer fine." 'I'm fine,' she told herself.

Rahne took a tentative step away from the door. Not sure she should speak, she nonetheless offered, "Manuel's in a mood, but got me more worried about ye than him."

Moira smiled at her. "Nathan's a stubborn one," she whispered, winking. "It'll be a while before 'e lets me tell 'im tha'..."

Rahne flushed. "Sorry...."

"Nay, lass, dinnae be." She waved at her. "Nate's bein' old an' grumpy." She smiled fondly and shook her head, trying to force the worry to go away.

Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, and slowly, laboriously, managed to sit up. Moira hissed, reaching out to support him, and he needed the help too badly to pull away. His stomach lurched as he shifted position, his head starting to throb again immediately. "He triggered--something," he muttered slowly, raising a hand to his temple. "Didn't know--"

She rubbed his back soothingly. "But now ye do," she said simply, moving her hand in slow circles as she glanced over her shoulder again.

"Aye, of course." Rahne glanced around the room once, then hurried into the bathroom -- ah, cups there. She came back with one about three-quarters full.

Moira reached for it. "Ah, thank ye." She held the glass out to Nathan. "Drink, it'll make ye feel better."

"Booby-trap," Nathan muttered, not noticing the glass as he felt the first stirrings of anger directed at somewhere other than himself since before Manuel had knocked on his door. "Should've known--ne hly'sandre t'ohenai--"

Moira paused and eyed him oddly. "Nathan, wha' th' 'ell did ye jus' say?"

Rahne blinked. That must be the mystery language Doug had been working on for him, but she hadn't realized it just came on at random.

"Sanoura de'lassiah soor do'hame," he muttered viciously, trying to remember when they might have done it to him. He remembered so much of the conditioning--why couldn't he remember this? "Sewahna to'lai, to'lai innusra!"

"Shit." Moira set the glass of water down and then put her hands on his face. "Nathan?"

Nathan blinked at her, his train of thought broken. "What?" he asked a bit dimly, confused.

"Ye were talkin' in another language," Moira reminded him, realizing that was probably the stuff on the tape.

"I--" Nathan stopped, frowning. "Don't remember," he sighed.

Moira let her hands drop and she nodded. "'Tis alright." She tried to hand him the water again. "Drink?" Nathan stared at the glass a bit blankly, but took it and did as he was told. She reached out and felt Nate's forehead. Still a bit warm but the fever seemed to be going down. "Goin' ta give me grey 'air," she muttered, smiling a little.

His hands clenched around the glass suddenly. "The virus," he croaked out, looking up at her.

Moira sighed. "Ye lost control but yer regainin' it. I pumped ye up wit' a massive dose o' drugs last night, that seem ta stabilize ye until ye started workin' on it yerself."

He had, he remembered. He had started visualizing it again as soon as he could, even while he was mostly still reeling. It was a good thing it was almost instinctual at this point. Nathan took another sip of the water, his hands shaking. "Took too much," he rasped, staring at the wall across the room. "He kept trying to make me stop--kept triggering it, and I couldn't even tell him."

"Ye refrained though," Moira reminded him. "Ye lost control there but ye -stopped- yerself from 'urtin' 'im ta th' point ye knocked yerself out wit' yer own bed."

"I--remember." Nathan removed one hand from the glass and rubbed at the back of his head. "I must've frightened him," he said heavily. "Probably--don't want to know what the room looks like, do I?"

"Umm...nay really. I think Cain'll be cleanin' it up an' makin' it liveable again."

Nathan nodded slowly, and then looked in the direction of the door. "Hi, Rahne," he said tentatively, then mustered up a wan, strained smile. "Not doing a good job at looking after her, am I?" he asked, gesturing a bit limply at Moira.

"Ye seem to be trading off." Rahne supposed that stepping back after she'd handed off the cup hadn't *really* been vital and moved forward again. Only a bit. She was starting to think they both needed a hand, but could hardly say *that*.

Moira had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "'e started it," she said, grinning.

"Did not," Nathan muttered, his eyes flickering back to her. "You did it first. Back at the start." He managed to smile again, and it was easier this time, with the sudden, hesitant warmth he felt as he met her eyes. "Short memory, you have--"

She stuck her tongue out at him and rolled her eyes at Rahne. "Dinnae believe a word 'e says." But she was smiling again.

Rahne's mouth twitched. "Aye, well, I'd rather hear ye arguing over who helped first than any of the other quarrels lately."

Moira sighed. "Aye...I jus' 'ope thin's get better soon. T' much...turmoil." She absently rubbed at her forehead.

"Is there... anything I can do?"

Moira had an idea. "I need t' go...talk...ta Charles," she said, not looking at Nathan. "An' apparently Bartlett. If'n ye could keep 'im company?" She thought. "Willna be gone longer then 15 minutes...'opefully."

Rahne blinked and did look at Nathan. "Aye, if that's all right...."

Nathan nodded, looking guiltily at Moira. "Yeah," he said softly. "That's all right."

She reached over and squeezed Nathan's hand gently. "I'll be fine," she murmured, hopefully quietly enough that Rahne didn't pick up on it.

Rahne frowned fleetingly. The reassurance was going an odd direction there, though Lady Moira *didn't* look well.... "I'll be glad to stay then...."

Nathan tried to don something he hoped resembled a reassuring look as Moira left. "I--promise, no flying furniture," he said, trying to make it a joke. His voice cracked a little, though, which rather hurt the effect.

Rahne's eyebrows went up slightly. "I wasna really expecting any." She'd been trying to be polite, but perhaps hanging back had him thinking she was expecting him to -- lose control?

"I--just thought you might be concerned," Nathan said tiredly, rubbing his forehead. "That I wasn't--safe to be around. After what I said to Sarah, and now this--"

"If I really wanted only people safe to be around, I'd ask to be flown home." Rahne came up to the side of the bed. "I donnae *think* I'm usually as provoking as Sarah or Manuel." She paused. "And ye didna do anything to Sarah. Actually, far as I can tell, ye didna actually do anything to Manuel."

"I'm not supposed to lose control," Nathan muttered, sipping at his water. "I'm usually better at keeping it than I have been lately."

"Yuir post about not coming to the Lady Moira with harsh words didna bother me. Maybe it should, if she wanted ye apologising, but..." Rahne shrugged. "Manuel... ye said something about a trigger?"

Nathan folded his hands around the glass again, eyeing the girl. "I--used to work for people who believed in empathically conditioning their operatives," he said, wondering what the hell was the matter with him. He had been much better at not giving straight answers to difficult questions before he'd woken up in this place. Too many of these people were all too disarming. Especially the kids. "I didn't realize that included a--trigger, in case a hostile empath ever tried to coopt us."

More bizarre employment histories. "And Manuel tried to 'fix' something ye were feeling?" Rahne grimaced.

Nathan bit his lip, hard. "I wasn't in control," he said hoarsely. "I should never have had him there in the first place--" He set the glass aside, then used both hands to rub his eyes. "He just tried--to make me calm down. Understandable. It didn't get really bad until he pushed harder. But it was my fault."

"Manuel," Rahne said carefully, "doesna quite seem to have grasped the idea that other people have as much right to be upset if he changes their feelings willfully as he does about our... impinging on him without wanting to."

"He's a kid," Nathan muttered. The clearer his head was getting, the more ashamed of himself he was feeling. "A messed-up kid, and I probably scared the hell out of him because I couldn't keep it together."

"He wasna acting scared when I saw him." Rahne didn't say she thought he probably had been. Manuel could be very sweet when he wanted to, but he *ought* to know trying to change people's minds didn't always go well.

Nathan looked up at her, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards tiredly. "Are you trying to make me feel better, Rahne?"

"...Aye, a bit, but I'm telling ye what I saw, too." She shrugged slightly. "...I can stop if ye want."

"I appreciate it," he said quietly. "Both the encouragement and the honesty."

"...If I doona want to be honest about something I try not to speak."

Nathan nodded. "Good policy," he said, and sighed, leaning back against the headboard. "Damn, I get sick of having headaches sometimes."

"I'd imagine." Rahne glanced at the cup. "More water? It helps sometimes...."

"Thank you," he said with another weary smile.

She went to refill it and found his eyes shut when she got back. "...Nathan?" Hopefully not loud enough to wake him if he'd actually gone to sleep.

"Mm," he said, not opening his eyes. "You don't have to stick around, Rahne--Moira'll be back in a few minutes."

"I've brought yuir water back. Here." She glanced down at it. "...'Tis no trouble to stick around, especially for only a few minutes. Unless 'twas a polite way of telling me to be off with me?"

Nathan swallowed, and looked at her. "I don't trust myself, if I doze off and slip into a nightmare."

Rahne set the cup down, since he didn't seem to be taking it, and folded her arms. "I would, as ye've not hurt Lady Moira, but then maybe 'tis that ye know her that well...."

"Better to be safe than sorry," he said, with another sigh. "Especially after last night."

"If Manuel turns up," Rahne said solemnly, "I shall bark at him."