Moira/Nathan

[x-mactaggart.livejournal.com]

He was up to nearly three hundred of the 'coins' now. They moved in complex fractal patterns around him, each coin revolving individually as they moved, and Nathan raised a slightly unsteady hand to wipe the sweat out of his eyes as he switched the directions half the coins were revolving in from clockwise to counter-clockwise. He was pushing the limits of his endurance but shouldn't be; it was a sign of just how much his fine control had deteriorated lately. Gritting his teeth, he levitated another fifty of the fake coins from their box and added them to the rest.

The door opened slowly as Moira wrestled with a stack of papers in her arms. She paused as she quietly kicked it shut and watched Nate carefully. Even from where she was standing, she could see the sweat in his hair and snippets of frustrated thought leaked over the link. Moira didn't want to disturb him but she knew he would have heard her, in some shape or form, come in.

He could sense her there, watching him. The link was bubbling with something he knew was concern, and even though he tried to push it into the background, to acknowledge it as a distraction and concentrate only on the coins, he fell short somewhere in the process. One whole side of the fractal pattern collapsed, the coins clinking to the floor, and the rest picked up speed and flung themselves through the air, some of them landing just short of Moira's feet. "Shit," he grated, sinking his face into his shaking hands for a moment. "Don't say it, please?" he asked, not looking at Moira.

The papers shifted as she bent to scoop up the coins on the floor. "Tha' I'm sorry?" She put the coins down on the table along side of the stack of papers. "I didna mean ta interrupt." There was a gentle touch on his shoulder. "Ye'll get it back."

Nathan flinched, unable to help himself, and winced as an unhappy whisper flickered along the link. "I haven't been drilling enough lately," he said grimly, looking up and starting to gather the coins together again. He opted for a simple triple-helix pattern this time, something that he should have been able to do with his eyes closed. The fact that he could feel the strain, like pressure behind his eyes, was another bad sign. "You'd be very disappointed in me."

"Hmmm." Moira shrugged off the lab coat and sat down with a sigh. "Nay wit' everythin' tha's been goin' on, I'm not." This had always fascinated her, watching him do this, even if she had been the one to suggest it. "I guess I jus' 'ave ta start remindin' ye ta do them more often. I was goin' ta ask 'ow ye were but..." She leaned back in the chair and grimaced as her back popped.

"You feel tired," Nathan said, and then blinked at his own choice of words. "I mean, you look tired. Although you feel tired, as well." He managed a slight smile. "Oh, yeah. Still getting used to this."

"'Tis a verra odd thin' ta get used ta," she admitted. "But...nice ta feel like I wasna alone when I was pullin' watch duty in th' MedLab." Moira shrugged a little, embarrassed. "But aye, 'tis been a lon' week. I jus' 'ope thin's calm down fer a while soon."

"Why do I get the sense that wishing for that around here is like asking the wind not to blow?" Nathan asked a bit whimsically, rearranging the coins into another stick figure, larger and easier to manipulate than the one he'd created out of marbles for the children. He made it run in place, staggering, arms flailing wildly, as if it were running into a gale-force wind that was threatening to lift it off its feet.

A laugh escaped Moira and she shook her head. "Bloody 'ell it feels like tha' all th' time. I didna have this much stress runnin' Muir Research Facility." A pang hit her. The surgery with Betsy, Essex...she was going to have to call "home" soon and talk to Rory and see what was going on over there. She had been obviously missing a good chunk of the story when she let Essex utilize Muir.

Nathan frowned, but decided that now wasn't the time to be probing for any information about Essex. What Scott had said about the man had been disturbing, especially in that Moira had been involved with him, but he didn't get the sense that any immediate intervention was required. If she tried to get into contact with Essex again, maybe--although he felt like a bit of a hypocrite, worrying about her getting involved with a 'shady character'. After all, by most people's standards, that was a description that could apply equally to him.

"How's Amanda?" he asked, instead.

"Sleepin'. Which is good fer right now. But between 'er an' Betsy an' Jubilee an'...if me 'ead explodes, would yers go wit' it?" She cradled her head on her arms and looked at him. "I need ta get ye out o' this room...might take Cain up on 'is offer this weekend..."

Nathan jumped a little, barely managed to catch his stick figure before it disintegrated. "What do you mean, get me out of the room?" he asked a bit defensively, disassembling the little running man and moving the coins up into several interlocking circles rotating just below the ceiling, safely out of the way. "I've been trying to stay out of the way, that's all."

"T' th' point that I could label ye as part o' me furniture expense," Moira replied dryly. "Ye left when I e-mailed ye th' other night an' ye 'ad no problem, remember?"

"What, you think I'm hiding?" Nathan asked, staring up at the coins. "I'm just--keeping out from underfoot, that's all. I came down to you after that email because I was worried about you being alone with another psi running amuck in the vicinity."

"An' I appreciate tha', a lot. But, in part, I think ye are." The comment was blunt and to the point, Moira had never liked being coy. "Nay because yer -scared-, though there's nay anythin' wron' wit' fear but..." She touched her head briefly, memories of -his- memories from that night trickling back. "Let's jus' say I 'ave a 'unch. I worry an' I dinnae think ye bein' in th' room most o' th' time is 'elpin' ye any."

"It's not as if I have much else to do," Nathan muttered. "Although I did get my room at least partially cleaned-up this afternoon."

"Well, tha's progress," she replied, squelching the part of her that muttered that she was enjoying the company. "An' I can -find- ye somethin' ta do ta be useful if'n ye want me ta. All ye 'ad ta do was ask." She waved a hand at the pile of papers in front of her. "God only knows I could use some 'elp an' if'n ye didna want tha'...there's got ta be somethin'."

He gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Something away from the students, maybe?" he asked, and then wished he hadn't as Moira's eyes widened a little. "Oh, don't look at me like that," he said a bit irritably. "A number of them are perfectly nice, and have been perfectly friendly to me. I can acknowledge that at the same time that I acknowledge I probably shouldn't be around any of them." He fell silent, remembering the spur-of-the-moment offer he'd made to Xavier to tutor any baby telekinetics who might be around. What world had he been living in when he'd thought he was at all suited to do something like that?

"An' so yer goin' ta 'ide?" That came out sharper than she had intended and she stood up and walked into the kitchen. She felt frustrated. She was trying everything, -everything-, and yet nothing was working and it felt like Nathan was being...Moira took a deep breath. "I wish I knew what ta say but, damn it, I'm tryin'." In the back of her mind, she knew this boiled up from both of their frustration and she leaned against the counter, trying to push back that frustration.

The coins fell out of the air, clinking as they hit the floor, and Nathan swore, pushing himself to his feet, mildly gratified by the fact that there was no dizziness that accompanied the movement. "What am I supposed to do?" he demanded, following her into the kitchen. "Pretend to be some sort of role model?" The laugh that came out this time was even more bitter than the last. "I don't think either of us wants any of them to be emulating me in even the smallest way imaginable, do we?"

"Oh aye, we wouldna want tha', now would we?" The need to *do* something overwhelmed her and she started rearranging the small collection of dishes she had in the room. "Now, I wouldna want them bein' willin' ta do whatever th' 'ell it took ta get someone they care 'bout out o' a bad fix, despite what it did fer them. Nay, wouldna want that or tha' bloody sense o' humor ye actually -do- 'ave if'n I recall. Or tha' when yer showin' someone somethin' ye actually 'ave patience enough ta 'ave them get it th' first time. Nay, wouldna want tha' now *would we*?" She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly.

Nathan gritted his teeth. "You have the world's worst case of myopia when it comes to me, you know," he said half-helplessly, half-angrily. "I've never understood why. Is it because you've never actually seen me in the field? Some sort of cognitive dissonance between the man you think I am and the man you know I am?"

"Dinnae even *go* there," she snapped, bracing her hands on her hips. "Dinnae even think I'm tha' bloody stupid or naive! I -stopped- bein' naive when Joe left an' ye bloody well better believe I'm nay 'bout ta start up again, nay matter HOW much I care for ye. Because ye know what? I dinnae *care*. Do I 'ave ta spell it out for ye? I dinnae like wha' ye do, I'm scared ta deat' tha' Bridge is goin' ta show up on me doorstep mont's after yer dead already wit' th' news. But tha' doesna mean I'm goin' ta forget what ye do, what ye are." Moira stopped. "Jus' because I've nay seen tha' part o' yer life doesna mean I dinnae know tis exists or 'ow much o' ye is tha'. I 'appen ta like -all- o' ye, no matter what ye do."

The anger drained away, but the helplessness, if anything, only grew more intense. "You're not stupid or naive," he muttered, glaring at her. "You're stubborn. Insanely stubborn." Even after the argument with Sarah and the blow-up with Manuel, he could still feel himself being drawn deeper and deeper into this place, and no one but him seemed to see how wrong that was. How dangerous. He couldn't teach these kids anything--anything they ought to learn, Angie's precognitive hunches aside.

"So are ye, works out doesna it?" She shivered a little as the helpless thoughts bleed over the link. "Ye get under me skin so easily," she muttered to herself, rubbing her head. "I jus' want ta shake some sense inta ye an' then 'elp ye put it all back together."

Nathan grimaced, mimicking Moira's gesture without thinking about it as his eyes blurred. "Tilting at windmills again, are we, Dona Quixote?" he grumbled, and then backed again, a strangled gasp catching in his throat as the telltale lights started to flicker in his peripheral vision. "No," he snapped at Moira as she started towards him, one hand outstretched. "No, damn it, we are not experimenting tonight--"

"Damn it...argh..." It felt like a freight train was forcing itself into her head and she couldn't do anything but stand and stare into the oncoming lights. She wasn't seeing or hearing -anything- but there was a roaring in her head that hadn't been there a few minutes ago.

Nathan took another unsteady step backwards, feeling his knees start to buckle under him. But before he could register the impact with the floor, he was somewhere else--

--running through some sort of maze, the only light coming from some sort of glowstick he was carrying. The corridors were narrow, barely wide enough for a single person, and the walls were made of a strange, organic-looking material. They glimmered with moisture, and the air was heavy and damp, with a faintly acrid smell that he knew he should know, but couldn't put a name to.

Noise from behind him. The sound of fighting, but he was running away from it, and although he knew that his friends were back there, he also knew he had to keep going. They were using their lives to buy him this chance, and he had to make the most of it. The memory of the blueprints of the maze, stolen weeks ago and paid for in blood, was clear in his mind, and so he could choose the right turns without slowing down. Almost there. He was almost there.

Abruptly, he emerged into a much larger space, skidding on the slippery floor, and a cry slipped free before he could stop it. Everywhere, hanging from the walls and the ceiling, there were bodies. Prisoners, members of his Clan--men and women and children, all dead, most mutilated. Examples, he understood in a single, sick moment. They were meant to be object lessons.

He looked down at the floor, and realized, his stomach twisting, that the wetness he'd nearly slipped on was blood. "Sh'nar volhai, immisanta," he muttered desperately, the hate pushing away the nausea.

And something heard him. Deep, echoing laughter came from a dark corner, and he had only begun to turn in that direction when scarlet light lashed out of the shadows, annihilating his world--

Her head hurt. It felt like the headache she had had that one time after staying up for four days straight and not eating. The kind that wormed its way through every thought. Moira fought past the pain and reached, mentally. It took her a few tries but she finally touched the link. #Nathan!# She choked as end images from the vision flashed through her mind.

He heard her calling his name, and his instinct was to reach out to the link, to use it to pull himself back, but he forced himself not to. If he did, with the images still burning in his mind--"No," he muttered aloud, fighting his way back until he could open his eyes. All he could see when he did were various blurred shape, but he could feel Moira right there, sense how agitated she was. "'s not real," he slurred, his breathing going ragged as he tried to make his limbs obey him and failed. But that wasn't right. It was real; it just wasn't here.

She grunted as she felt him pull away, could taste the fear and pain. #Nay goin' ta be tha' easy...# She reached again, calling his name. Almost there...and then something happened. Moira cried out in surprise as she felt him slam shields down around the link, trying to protect...who? Her? Him? It felt like she ran head first into a wall that hadn’t been there before. She frowned and pushed but it wouldn’t budge.

He hadn't consciously formed the wall, but he squeezed his eyes shut, going weak with relief as he sensed it there, keeping the images away from Moira. "Don't need--to see that," he muttered, his voice coming out a little stronger.

"Coulda -warned- me," she got out, rubbing her head. "Bloody 'ell, tha' was unexpected." The headache was starting to go away, so she edged towards him. "Th' vision goin' away now?"

"Yeah--" He opened his eyes again, breathing out on an unsteady sigh of relief as he found that he could see a little more clearly now. "Strange one," he said shakily, trying to sit up. Moira reached out to help him, and he shivered, but didn't resist. "I--I was deeper in it, this time. Seeing through his eyes--"

"Is tha' normal?" She rubbed soothing circles on his back as he regained his equilibrium. "Ye dinnae usually give me a lot ta go on." And that was another reason she accepted the link more than she should have. If she saw, perhaps she'd be able to better help him. Emotionally and finding a reason why and how to fix it.

"He was thinking more--clearly." Nathan stopped, struggling for words. The memory of the vision was trying to soften and fade on him, but he held to it stubbornly, trying to analyze the difference. "Usually it's--so bad that the person I'm seeing through can't do anything but feel."

"An' th' link between then an' now was stronger?"

"Not--stronger. Just--clearer. Almost like it used to be, except it still sucked me in." Nathan rested his face in his hands for a few moments, concentrating on breathing deeply and slowing his heart rate. "I'm sorry," he said tiredly when he looked up at her. "For--before. I just--you're probably right, I shouldn't have been spending so much time in here. I just couldn't stop thinking about Manuel and everything that could have happened--all the things that could happen if I start spending time around these kids."

Moira kept up rubbing his back as she settled herself on the floor next to him. "Nay, I'm th' one who should be sorry. I worry an' I know yer nay one ta stay still fer verra lon'. So I was...anxious when he started 'ermitin' yerself in 'ere. An' aye, it's a concern, but one I think can be worked around. These kids, they suck ye in an' make ye care. Bastards." She smiled up at him.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "You trust me a lot more than I trust me, Moira. Going to give me a complex one of these days--"

"More? God forbid." Moira reached out again mentally and brushed against the wall. "So...ye keepin' it there?" It was meant to be casual but it came out hesitant.

Nathan swallowed, then lowered it tentatively, watching her eyes carefully. But all he saw as the wall came down was relief, and his shoulders sagged as she smiled at him. "I didn't know I could still do that," he muttered. "Instinct, I guess. I--he died, and I didn't want you to feel that--"

Her hand reached out and curled around his. "I know. I know ye dinnae want me ta feel or see what ye go through. But if it 'elps...I willnae push ye but I would like ta -try-." She shuddered a little as her mind processed what he said.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'll--try, Moira. If it's not too--" He bit his lip. "I promise I'll try," he whispered.

"Tha's all I ask." She pushed herself up off the floor and held out her hands. "Come on ye, let's find ye somethin' ta do. Ye *will* be leavin' this room soon but we can start small." Moira snickered. "Ye any good at knittin'?"

"Uhh--" He blinked at her worriedly, hoping she was kidding. He was fairly sure she was, but still--"Good at using the needles as a weapon in a pinch, maybe--"