xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, Saturday afternoon... (Reply)

Peaceful Saturdays rarely last.

"Everything's all filed away," Nathan said cheerfully, lingering in the doorway of the lab and watching Moira. She typed a little more on whatever she was working on and then swiveled around in her chair, smiling at him. "The surface of your desk is actually visible. I think I deserve a cookie."

"I 'ave a desk? Considerin' I jus' thought I was workin' on a stack o' paper an' books, aye, ye do. Thanks, I needed th' 'elp." Moira moved a little more, hiding the journal system that was on the screen. She didn't want to gloat that she had gotten the upper hand...much.

Nathan gave her a mock-baleful look, not fooled in the slightest. "Oh, were you getting the last word?" he inquired, folding his arms across his chest and trying not to grin. If it hadn't been spring break, with most, if not all of the kids off doing more interesting things, he wouldn't have allowed himself to be quite so playful in a public forum. But it was, and they were, and he really was in the most ridiculously good mood today. "I still have that damned song stuck in my head, by the way."

The chair creaked as Moira leaned back and looked incredibly smug. "I was wonderin' if tha' would work. Yer lucky I was playin' nicely an' decided ta nay sin' 'enry th' Eight'." She was enjoying this. It had been a long time either she or Nathan had been this relaxed. While things weren't as right as they could be at the mansion, this was a good start.

Nathan groaned in honest horror at the thought, slumping sideways against the doorframe. "There would have been consequences to that," he said severely, shaking a finger at her. "Consequences involving very cold water. Or maybe ice in unfortunate places."

She grinned slyly. "I think messin' wit' ye like tha' might be wort' it. But I -am- nice, so I won't." Something went ding on the other side of the room and Moira got up and padded over to it. True to her word, she had completely ignored shoes today and had pulled out a pair of thick socks. "Nay it be said tha' I'm nay considerate o' others mental well bein'."

Nathan straightened, eyeing her thoughtfully. "What are you working on?" he asked.

"Anythin' an' everythin," she murmured, distracted as she read the print out. "Jubilee, Betsy, an' ye ta name a few. Granted, I work separately on yers...encoded disk an' all." She seemed satisified with it and started it up again.

"Mmm," he said with a little smile. She certainly hadn't forgotten how paranoid he was about such things. He had to appreciate that. "I gather from what I saw on the journals that the girl is off to England with the others, so I assume she's doing fairly well. What about--Betsy?" He stumbled a little over the name.

"Sleepin', restin' which is good." Moira stretched, popping several things at once. "I take it yer disturbed by th' quiet?" she asked, smiling at him over her shoulder.

"Not really disturbed," Nathan temporized, smiling again as he noticed the socks. "Or maybe just a little. I'm too used to quiet like this being the calm before the storm."

Moira threw a plushie, one of Hanks from the looks at it, at him. "Dinnae start tha'," she warned playfully. "We've 'ad enough insanity ta last us a lifetime."

Catching it, Nathan examined the little stuffed cat for a moment, running his fingers over its 'fur'. "I'm not wishing any further excitement on us, I promise," he said, looking back up at Moira. "I'd be perfectly happy to be bored stiff for the next month, seriously."

"Well, some normal excitement I can do wit'." She started to walk back over to her desk but turned and walked to Nathan. "Normal thin's." She poked the cat and wrinkled her nose. "God, be careful wit' tha', 'enry may 'ave tried t' 'ide some o' tha' bloody abomination 'e calls soda in there in an attempt ta 'ide it from me." She grinned up at him.

"Hiding soda in stuffed animals? You two have an interesting relationship, don't you?" He handed the cat over to her carefully, and watched her as she went back and put it in the place where it had been, arranging its little soft limbs carefully. "There was something I wanted to ask you about, actually," he said a bit tentatively, wondering if it was really fair to be doing this to her. It had been something he'd picked up on the link late last night when she'd come back from the dinner. She had thought he was asleep, so she hadn't been guarding her thoughts.

"Hmm?" The cat wouldn't stay in an upright position and she finally let it fall over on its side. "Somethin' wron'?" Moira tried to hide the hint of worry.

Nathan hesitated, then sighed and took the plunge. "You're feeling guilty about Amanda," he said gently. "I just--well, I don't know everything that's happened, obviously, but I can't imagine you doing anything but your best to help her."

"But sometimes our best is nay good enough, is it?" she asked quietly, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "I dinnae know th' full story either, 'tis like tryin' ta work wit' a puzzle tha's missin' a good chunk o' the pieces. But even then, I could 'ave done more. What, I dinnae know."

"You can't fix the whole world, Moira," he murmured, watching her and feeling strangely wistful. Without really thinking about it, he switched to telepathic speech. #I know you want to, especially when there's a child involved--but you can't, and you'll drive yourself crazy trying.#

Telepathic speech always sent a shiver down her spine when it first started. #Aye, I know. It's jus'...I like Amanda. There's a lot o' potential there an' I dinnae want it ta go away. No matter what I try, never seems like enough.#

"I like her, too," Nathan said, aloud this time as he noticed Moira's reaction. "She and I had a little talk back near the beginning of the week. I don't think she's nearly as far gone as she likes to believe." He smiled, a bit sadly. "She reminds me a little of myself at that age, to be perfectly honest."

"An' I see some o' me in 'er as well." Moira remembered -her- slightly wild teenage years. "O' aye..." She glanced at him. "Ye didna 'ave ta stop...tha'. 'Tis nay -unpleasant-. Ye ever 'ave someone breat' down yer neck fer a second?"

"I just don't want to be too--forward," Nathan muttered and then flushed, remembering last night and realizing how ridiculous that must sound. "Too pushy, I mean. Not to mention the fact that the more we use that link, the stronger it's going to get, faster. We should probably not--rush things until we're both sure we can live with it." Moira was giving him a peculiarly tolerant look, and he went on hurriedly. "Um, anyway. Amanda. I think she and I were--well, getting off the right foot, I suppose you'd call it."

Moira settled for rolling her eyes at him. "Giant ninny," she murmured under her breath. "I'm glad. There's a lot o' good under there. Jus' got ta get past th' damage."

"I should drop her an email or two while she's in England," Nathan said with an uncertain smile. "She did promise me a postcard--"

"Good!" Moira beamed at him. "It'll probably cheer 'er up." She started moving papers around, trying to find where she'd put the blasted hair clip. "Glad ta see ye doin' it as well."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're going to rub it in, aren't you?" he grumbled. "Me suddenly being eager to talk to some of these kids. After Wednesday, I mean."

"I'd throw somethin' at ye if'n I weren't lookin' fer somethin'." The reply was muffled as she dove through the pile of various objects. "Nay rubbin' it in, Nate, I'm -'appy-, all right? Bloody stubborn man..."

"I exchanged emails with Marie-Ange before she left, too," Nathan admitted grudgingly, part of him still certain she was finding this enormously entertaining. "When she gets back, the two of us are going to get together and see if any of those meditative techniques help her." He frowned, shaking his head. "I'll be careful with her, Moira, I promise. I know I don't have the whole story about what this--Kwannon thing did to her, but it's obvious she was having a rough time."

She emerged with the hair clip and put her hair up in a messy bun. "Aye, I know. She came ta class wit' Doug attached at 'er 'ip." Moira smiled at him warmly. "I know ye'll be careful. Jus' let me know if'n ye find out anythin'?"

"No, I thought I'd keep it from you," he said, raising a defensive hand and grinning wryly as she gave him a threatening look. "Kidding, Moira. Although if she asks me to keep something in confidence, I probably will, unless it's a risk to her to do so. If we're going to work on this together she needs to be able to trust me."

The amusement she felt at that made her shake her head and she walked up to him again. "Hi, world class doctor yer talkin' ta, remember?" Her face darkened. "Or at least, supposed ta be."

He shook his head and reached out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Don't start," he told her. "We're having too good a day to start wallowing, remember?"

She leaned a little into the touch and smiled. "I know, I'm tryin'. 'Tis a talent, kickin' meself when I dinnae need it."

"Yeah, I know." Nathan let his gaze roam over the lab, wondering how much it would take to pry Moira out of here for a little while. Morning had turned into afternoon before he'd realized - there had been an awful lot of filing to do - and he suspected she'd probably had coffee and nothing else so far today. He opened his mouth to suggest they grab a late lunch, only to have the words catch in his throat at the sudden sparkling of lights in his peripheral vision. "Shit," he muttered distractedly, wishing he knew some way to fight back the vision he could feel coming on like a freight train. It had been such a good day--

The sudden headache was the first sign but the color going out of Nate's face was the second. Moira echoed his curse and before he could stop her, slid her arms around his waist. "Come on, jus' ta th' chair..." she coaxed, trying to walk him over in that direction.

Nathan let himself be led, too caught up in his sudden, silent struggle to resist. In the distance, he could hear screaming, the sound of explosions. It was pushing in on him, trying to swallow him up. "Ne'hlariahr," he muttered feverishly, barely registering it as Moira pushed him down into the chair. "Ne'luuhara, sei'vaste--" He could feel it, like a tidal wave, but--slowly, not moving with its usual impossible speed. It gave him enough time to erect some sort of mental wall - not a normal shield but something else, something that was willpower and little else - before it could sweep over him. There was an angry cry from somewhere closer, and then something was smashing into his wall, fiery talons clawing at it.

Moira nearly swallowed her tongue as what felt like a red-hot poker hit her from a distance. She blinked away tears as she struggled to call out to Nathan. Whatever that had been hadn't been directed at her, it had just bled through somehow. #Nate? God, tell me yer alright...#

No. Damn it, no, Nathan thought dimly, fighting to hold that shield between him and--it. This was his mind, his life. These ghosts from the future didn't get to treat it like their personal playground. The screaming of that other voice only grew louder, more enraged, and Nathan doubled over with a moan in the chair, gasping out more words in that unknown language, and although he still didn't know what he was saying, some distant, as-yet untouched part of him knew, knew that it was a plea.

As Nathan doubled over, he nearly fell out of the chair but Moira held him up. This wasn't like the rest, she thought frantically. She wrapped her arms around him to keep him upright and tried to get through again. #Nathan, fight it, come on...I'm 'ere, 'tis okay...#

He could see her face again. Fiery hair whipping in some unearthly wind, those inhuman eyes locked on him and full of fury. Her voice was screaming in his mind, demanding that he listen, that he let down his defenses and see, understand--

#~You WILL! Obey me!~#

But he'd promised himself that he'd never kneel again. Anything she wanted, she would have to take.

And she did.

Their link was small, fragile, but even through that Moira could feel something tearing into Nate's mind. She let him fall onto her as she reached up to touch his face. "Nay...losin' ye now," she grated. She might be human, with barely any knowledge in this area, but she was damned if she was going to sit idly by. Inside her mind, the link pulsed and she reached into it. #Nathan!# Moira nearly screamed his name aloud as something backlashed into her mind and she felt blood dripping from her nose again. #Not...bloody...likely...*Nathan Christopher Dayspring*...#

--strapped to a table, screaming everything but the information they wanted, anything but that. Too many people depended on him keeping back what his interrogators wanted to know but it hurt, they were hurtng him, and it went on and on and wouldn't stop until he told them, so he did, he screamed the words, the coordinates, and the shame choked him, or maybe it was the blood--

#NATHAN!#

--#...moira...?# The vision shattered like glass, the shards cutting into his mind, and he moaned, clinging to her. He could feel her shaking, and tried to say something, to reassure her, but the words came out in that other language and barely audible, no strength behind them.

Moira held onto him tightly, letting them fall to the floor gently. "Oh God, Nathan," she breathed, as he tucked his head into the crook of her neck. "Shhh, 'tis okay." He was crying, the tears damp against her skin. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry." Slowly, she rubbed circles on his back. She reached again, this time gently. #I'm 'ere, yer safe, yer back.#

Nate didn't loosen his grip on her any and his limbs seemed tight enough that they would squeak with tension. What few words managed to come out weren't in English. Shifting, Moira tucked her head close into his. "Nathan, listen ta me speak. Focus, sweetie. Tha's it, it'll all be okay." She lifted her head briefly to wipe the blood away before it fell on him. That he did not need. "I've got ye."

He couldn't think about the implications of what had just happened, what it all meant. He couldn't manage much in the way of coherent thought at all, and he clung to Moira unashamedly, shuddering as he heard Her voice whispering to him, soft and savage and somehow disgusted.

She pressed a kiss to the top of his forehead. "It'll be all right." What had happened? This was nothing like the visions he had been having before.

#C-Can you hear her?# The words slipped out along the link before he could stop them. He couldn't have managed to speak aloud if he'd tried. #If I try and fight--she sees--she makes me see, she won't let me turn away--#

#'er? Nay right now...but...# She pushed a little on the link, asking him to let her see. Someone was doing this to him.

The memory of that angry face flashed through his mind and he went rigid, although the whispering was already beginning to die away. Still floundering, Nathan tried to concentrate on breathing, so that he didn't hyperventilate, but didn't let go of Moira. Couldn't let go.

A flash of an angry woman came at her and Moira pulled Nathan as close as he could be. She pushed past the image, ignoring it, and focused on him. #Focus on me, Nate, my thoughts.# She brought up a memory, them running into each other accidently in Paris that one year. She was there for a conference, he was there on business. Moira pushed all those happy thoughts she had hidden then at seeing him through the link.

A sidewalk cafe, under the hot summer sun. She had been sitting there as he'd come out of the little antique shop across the street, and he remembered every detail. The cup of tea on the table in front of her. The white rosebud in a slender vase. The utterly ridiculous hat she'd been wearing--

Nathan opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. His breathing was still labored and too fast, but a little steadier, and his heart was no longer thundering in his ears. "Moira," he murmured weakly, still not letting go. The world was still shifting and shimmering around him, and she was its only stable point.

"Welcome back," she murmured, freeing an arm to wipe the tears away from his face.

"You--I hurt you," he said fuzzily, blinking at her.

She cupped his chin gently. "Nay, ye didna. 'appened when I pushed ta 'ard. But yer back again an' tha's wort' a wee bloody nose."

He squeezed his eyes shut as they started to burn. "Something--" His voice broke, but he went on. "Something s-strange's happening, Moira--I don't understand--"

"Shhh, easy. Take a deep breath. Aye tha's it, relax, I've got ye." As his breathing steadied, she hugged him tighter. #Nay lettin' go, either.#

Nate buried his head back in the crook of her neck and relaxed his grip on her a little. Moira's mind raced. -Someone-, a woman, was communicating with him. From the future. She had never heard him mention it and the way he reacted meant it was fairly new. Why now? Why not when it first started? Moira didn't know but she was sure going to try and find out. "We'll figure it out, I promise," she whispered.