xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, Friday night...

Nate and Moira have a Talk. Probably the first of several.

The door slammed shut behind her as if echoing her mood, but Moira ignored it, stalking into her rooms and right over to the bed. Nathan was stirring, the combination of the slamming door and her angry, roiling thoughts catching his attention. She flung the printed out e-mail on the bed and headed straight into the bathroom. Not bothering to close the door all the way, she ripped off her sweater and grabbed the t-shirt she had left in there before.

Moira took a moment to try and regain her composure but it didn't help any. The past week or so had been hell and now this upstart little...she gritted her teeth so hard they squeaked and then turned around and went back out to Nathan.

"We need ta talk," she said crisply.

Nathan was halfway through the rather protracted process of sitting up when she re-emerged from the background and he blinked at her, not sure why the end of the link was all--fiery and stuff, but fairly sure he wasn't going to like the answer. "What's wrong?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. Only then did he notice the email. He gave her a bewildered look and then picked it up, scanning through it as quickly as he could given the way his eyes were still blurring. By the time he reached the end, he was already regretting the fact that Moira had him on medication that would make heavy drinking a bad idea. "Shit," he groaned, letting the email fall back to the bed and slumping back against the pillows. "Going to kill her. Seriously."

"Stand in line." Anger danced in her eyes. "Question me, fine, I'll think yer a fuckin' idiot. Insult me, I'll insult back. Threaten me, 'owever, an' I take offense. A -lot- o' offense."

Nathan sighed heavily. The drugs had just started to kick in nicely - there were no dead people in the room, and even the voices were down to a low murmur - so it was a little hard to think. "She wouldn't have gone through with it," he muttered, sitting up again, more slowly this time. His head was all swimmy again. "Just bluster--she's scared, and she's blustering. I know that's no excuse."

"I jus'...gah! Threaten me all ye bloody well like, actually." Moira started to pace, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "But did she nae bloody well fuckin' think o' th' fact tha' one, 'tis a SCHOOL tha' I'm in, wit' KIDS. An' two she's good, but I'm fairly positive Cook an' Xavier are better!"

"She wouldn't have done it here if she was serious," Nathan said without thinking. His tongue was moving a little faster than his brain. Which was appalling, given how much trouble he was having stringing coherent sentences together. "Would've lured you out, somehow. Dom's good at rearranging the odds in her favor." It was one of the things she was best at, actually, and not simply because of her mutation.

"Oh, tha' makes me feel better. Gee, thanks, Nathan." Moira stopped and took a deep, hopefully cleansing breath. "She's damn well lucky I didnae give in an' blast 'er ass out o' th' water in me e-mail."

"Why didn't you?" he asked, blinking down at the print-out. "I don't know what I said to make her think--that," he said, a bit petulantly. "I just told them what you figured out. About what's gone wrong." It was hard to figure out how Dom's mind worked under the best of circumstances, so he probably had no chance in hell of doing it now. "I hadn't checked in for a while... there was the thing with Manuel, and then the dead people--"

"I'm older! I'm th' mature one! I jus'...I did tell 'er t' go piss in 'er own corner o' th' world...an' I did call 'er a little girl..." Moira looked over at Nathan. "Tha's all? Ye didna tell her anythin' ta make 'er say this? I jus' want ta be sure ye want ta be goin' through this. 'ere. Wit' me." The anger had left her voice and she just sounded uncertain. She could bluster and bluff and flash her temper from now to kingdom come, but there were certain things that could just bring her defenses down. Nathan was one of them.

For some reason, he couldn't help a faint smile. "I'd rather not be going through it at all," he murmured unevenly. "But if I wasn't going through it with you--" It hit him, then, what this would have been like if he had gone to G.W.'s friend and been in some strange hospital when reality went to pieces around him. They wouldn't have known as much as Moira, wouldn't have understood. They would probably have treated the symptoms, diagnosed him and dealt with him just like they would any other ex-military type who'd gone around the bend. He took a shaky breath, his breath coming a little harder at the thought.

"Shit, Nathan?" Weird, terrified thoughts were trickling into her head and Moira was at his side in a minute. "Nate, wha's wron'? Shhh, 'tis okay..." She grabbed his hands, trying to stop them from shaking.

"I'm going to end up there someday," he said, thought, bizarrely, that his voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. "I always sort of knew that, in the back of my mind. Some room, somewhere, where the door doesn't open--"

"Nay, yer *not*," Moira snapped, dropping his hands and cupping his face. "Ye listen ta me, Nathan. If ye go there, it'll be over me dead body. As lon' as I'm 'ere, ye'll never end up there."

There was a different heat coming down the link now, a steadier, warmer light that pulled him back out of the cold, at least a little. "Dom knows how afraid I am of--of that," he said hoarsely. "I think maybe that's why she--why she lashed out like she did." The possibility of heading back to North Korea probably hadn't helped, either. The two of them and Bridge had been in that prison outside Chongjin for nearly two months before the extraction. It hadn't been easy on any of them.

"Then she doesna know me at all." Moira reluctantly dropped her hands. "Damn 'er, she managed t' get right at me sore spots..." The insecurities and worries that had been rolling around in her mind all day raised their ugly heads again and she rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"She doesn't trust you." Nathan smiled weakly. "And she's very good at pushing buttons."

"Buttons tha' were already 'alf way pushed." By her own self, she knew, but that didn't help the situation. She made a small noise of frustration.

He reached out slowly for her hands, taking them in his. "You're doing your best. Don't let anything she says make you doubt that." He fell silent for a long moment, fighting the urge to let the words go unsaid, to block out what had happened yesterday like he so wanted to do. Scott had given him some good advice this morning, about recording things so that he would remember, but he really wasn't sure that he was ready to take it. "I--heard you," he said, unable to meet her eyes. "Yesterday. Standing up to--to Her."

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "I dinnae know if ye could, wit' everythin' She was doin'."

"Part of me could." Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on breathing. "I'm sorry you had to--had to face her on your own like that." He still wasn't sure how it had happened, why Moira had gotten caught up in it all. It had to be the link, of course, but he didn't know enough to be able to understand why. "I--didn't want them to be able to touch you, but it was--hard."

"But it 'elped, aye?" She squeezed his hands gently. "Then tha's all tha' matters." She couldn't help the shiver that ran through her. That woman had nearly put the fear of God back into her and, considering she wasn't on speaking terms with God until He apologized, that said a lot.

"I'll talk to Dom," Nathan said, knowing that Moira would see through the change in subject. But he couldn't talk about--the other anymore, not now. "Only if you want, though." He mustered another tiny smile. "Don't want to be getting in the middle if you don't want me there."

Moira smirked slightly. "Nah, feel free ta get in th' middle. I -did- accused 'er o' nay trustin' yer judgement, so..." She hesitated. This was probably, oddly enough, the perfect opportunity to ask about something else she'd been worrying about. But...she chewed on her lip. She didn't know how he would react.

"What's wrong?" Nathan asked uncertainly, unable to interpret the sensations on the link.

"Jus' me bein' stupid." She closed her eyes. "But we've nay talked 'bout anythin' or..." Moira stopped. "Blast, I'm nay makin' any sense." Why was it hard being blunt? she wondered. She looked at their hands, still closed around each other, and focused on that. There was an art in not making eye contact. "I jus'...nay been 'ave th' best time o' it as late, nay compared ta ye, but still." Deep breath. "Oh fuck it. Where do ye want -this-, us, ta go? I get glimpses an' flashes from th' link, but we've nay talked an' damn it, Nathan, me self-esteem 'bout meself isna th' best on a good day."

Well, now she felt stupid.

Nathan stared at her for a long, shocked moment, and then realized it would probably be a good idea to close his mouth. "Where do I want this to go?" he asked, his voice uneven again. "Moira--you--" He realized he was squeezing her hands too tightly and forced himself to relax his grip. "I want--I don't know that this is about what I want. Even if--even if the visions just--stopped, there's still the virus--"

"O' course it is," Moira snapped, trying to tug her hands free. She -knew- she shouldn't have asked. "I've been yer friend fer how lon' now? Ye tried tha' fuckin' trick on me th' first time I called ye me best friend. Remember my reaction?" Clear as day, she saw herself dumping the pitcher of ice tea on his head and storming away. "I dinnae accept it then an' like 'ell I'll do tha' now."

Pain flashed across her eyes as she remembered the dream about her father last night. He had taken a chance on her mother, strong in will and spirit but so sick. So very, very sick.

Nathan didn't let go of her hands. "Listen to me," he said, almost brokenly. "I can't--oh, fuck, Moira, you've got no idea, do you?" Her eyes widened slightly and she tried to pull away again, but he didn't let her go. "You're the only thing in my life that really means anything anymore," he went on feverishly, "and I hurt you just by being around. Look at you now. You're linked to the mind of someone who's going mad, and no matter how much he wants to be back on the beach at Muir with you, how much he's wanted to be back there ever since he was stupid enough to leave--" His voice failed him totally and he squeezed his burning eyes shut, still holding onto her hands.

Moira stopped struggling and stared at him. "Nathan, yer a bloody...ye don't 'urt me, thin's 'appen, aye, but not -ye-." Her voice hitched a little. "I'm so scared I'll lose ye. Aye, t' th' visions or the virus. But more importantly, tha'll ye'll jus' leave. Either because o' somethin' I've done or because we dinnae *try*." She gave a harsh laugh. "I'm so bloody stupid. I'm sorry, I shouldna brought this up now, ye dinnae need ta 'ear 'bout me insecurities 'bout ye wantin' m..."

She stopped a second too late and cursed and tried to free her hands again. Looks like talk before you think has struck again, she thought dizzily.

"You don't think I--" Nathan laughed shakily, freeing a hand and lifting it to touch the side of her face. "If I thought I could do something other than die on you or get you killed, Moira MacTaggart, I would never have--" He choked on the words again.

But Moira needed to hear this. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, Joe leaving had done a number on her. "Never 'ave what?" She leaned into his touch slightly.

Nathan leaned forward, brushing his lips against her forehead, almost fearfully. "I would--I would have kissed you that New Year's," he whispered raggedly, remembering his third visit to Muir. He had found himself watching Moira that Christmas, watching her and realizing for the first time in two years that he wanted to do more than survive. He wanted to live, and the thought had terrified him. "And I would have stayed."

Shock washed through her at his words. Moira remembered that Christmas well, it had been the first one in a long time she had bothered to celebrate. She had been dancing with one of the local folk she hired for help and she had noticed him watching her. So, she had tried to entice him into dancing and amazingly, he'd smiled and let her teach him the steps. Sometime later, they had ended up under the mistletoe...

"I..." Her mind zeroed in on things. "Yer afraid o' dyin' on me?" Moira pulled herself up and knelt in front of him, hands cupping his face. "Nathan, damn it. I watched me da love me mum wit' everythin' 'e 'ad. 'e knew from day one tha' she was sick. But tha' dinnae stop them. An', god, his 'eart broke worse than mine when she died, but 'e never regretted it. I'd rather 'ave a week wit' ye than without." She barely noticed the tears trickling down her cheeks. "Seven *years*, Nate. I dinnae want anymore time ta pass. God, dinnae push me away, please."

*I'm not worth it!* he wanted to rail at her, but he didn't. "Don't cry," he said shakily, pulling her close. His shields were still in disarray and between that and the link he didn't have a hope of shutting out her pain, her need. "I--I'll try, Moira. It's all I can say. As long as I'm here, I'll try--"

She shuddered and grabbed hold of him. "Yer nay goin' ta die," she forced out. The thoughts he had accidently let slip on the link made her feel cold. He really believed that was how this would end. "Yer nay, ye 'ear me? Ye'll beat this, I swear it. What can I do ta make ye believe tha' an' me?"

"I've been living on borrowed time for seven years," he whispered, shivering convulsively at the tightness of her grip. "But I'd rather die than lose my mind to this--"

"'ow can I convince ye?" she asked desperately. He wasn't going to get better if he gave up like this.

#I don't know, Moira. I just don't know--# he sent back tentatively.

#Then jus' -live-. Dinnae stop fightin', but dinnae think 'bout th' worst.# Moira raised her head and impuslively grabbed Nathan's chin. She took a deep breath and then tugged him down, leaning up to kiss him.

Part of him savored the kiss while it lasted, even as the rest of him pointed out that this couldn't possibly end well. That she would wind up hurt, because that was what happened to the people he cared about, always. "You're so stubborn," he murmured very softly as she finally drew back. Her eyes lingered on his face, anxiously searching, and he tried to smile, despite the way his eyes were still burning. "I believe you'd drag me back to life if I had the gall to die, wouldn't you?"

"Yer bloody right, ye are," she muttered and then paused. There had been a stray thought from him that didn't quite seem right. There it was...she smacked him in the chest. "Nathan, ye want ta know what'd 'urt me?"

"Replacing your coffee with decaf?" he offered weakly.

"Don't make me hit ye again." Maybe it was the kiss that made her bolder than she normally would be, but she shoved her way into his lap and settled in. "If we're stubborn an' miss somethin' an' ye leave. If I somehow make ye go away." She sighed and tilted her head. "If ye actually become interested in Dom." She flashed a self-deprecating smile at him. "If ye find out I'm t' stupid wit' these thin's an' get fed up."

For some reason, he fixated on the bit about Dom. "While we're being honest--" he said, trying not to wince.

She blinked. "Wha'?" Some worry seeped into her voice.

*Oh, I have got to be suicidal.* But if--this thing between him and Moira did go any farther, he didn't need to be a precog to know that she and Dom would get into it at some point. And he wasn't prepared to chance that Dom would throw a certain something into Moira's face. Better than he should tell her now. "Dom and I were in Volgograd a couple of years ago," he said, staring down into Moira's puzzled, worried eyes. "I, um... fell through the ice in the middle of a firefight. She dragged me out and back to the safehouse, and--" He stopped, grimacing. "I was hypothermic. There was vodka. I really didn't know what the hell I was doing."

Sometimes it took a moment to make 2 + 2 equal 4. "Doin'..." Her eyes widened. "OH!" She looked rather shocked. "...was it a mutual thin' or...did she take advantage...?"

Moira was sitting on his lap and they were discussing his unprofessional behaviour with Dom. This was very surreal, Nathan thought fitfully, but forced himself to attend to her question. "I--uhh, don't really remember," he confessed. "Kind of hazy on everything except the, um, aftermath." Which had involved waking up, leaping with a yelp out of bed, and then swearing off vodka for the next year. Dom, he remembered, had just smirked at him (rather triumphantly, too) and invited him back into bed for a second 'kick at the can, you big wuss.'

Moira's eyes narrowed. "Took advantage," she said, firmly. "...she *said* tha'?!"

"I'm kind of hard to take advantage of, Moira," he felt obligated to point out.

She stilled. If she was jealous of anything, it was the bond between Dom and Nate. It was so different than the one Moira and Nate had. He was always reminding her that she had never seen "that side" of him. And it didn't help that Moira -knew- Domino had a much better body and better looks than she ever could. She sighed. "Aye, I know."

"She reminds me of Dawnie," he said without thinking.

"Who?" She'd never heard him mention the name before.

"Dawn, rather," he said with a slight, embarassed smile. "Dawn Thibert. One of my team. She always wanted to be called 'Silk', but we kept telling her that you didn't pick your own field name, it picked you." Moira was still gazing at him, perplexed, and he shrugged. "She died in China," he said quietly. "I know I never talked about the others, but--she was the youngest, and I was really--kind of fond of her." His smile grew a little, almost despite himself. "She had the foulest mouth you've ever heard. Could curse in about fifteen languages. But she was fearless. One of those people who lived life for all it was worth. So yeah, Dom reminds me of her."

Moira smiled slightly. It was like trying to make rocks bleed to get him to talk but when he did, he just eased into it. "I'm sorry." For some reason, that helped get some of the anxiety out of her stomach. Some of it. There was attraction there for Domino but from the way he talked, it was slight. Or so she hoped. But from the story she had just heard, it was very much like the relationship she and her younger cousin had. Well, on his side anyway. Some of the tension seeped out of her and she put her head on his shoulder. "Still jealous that she got ta sleep wit' ye," she grumbled and then clapped a hand to her mouth, horrified with herself and she felt a blush creep up her chest and neck.

It had to be the drugs, Nathan would tell himself afterwards, but however many times he told himself that, it wasn't much consolation. "You could always try dropping me in freezing water and see what happens. You've owed me a dunking for years now--"

She snorted and grinned up at him. "Dinnae tempt me. On bot' accounts." Well, -that- was forward. But she was sitting on his lap. She suddenly remembered something from her dream from last night and she smiled.

Nathan sighed, brushing a stray lock of red hair out of her eyes. "Moira, I hate to say this, but I'm having a hell of a time keeping my eyes open here." The conversation had sapped his energy, and right now, curling up - with her, if she wanted - and sleeping sounded like the best idea he'd heard in months.

"Nap?" Yesterday had exhausted her and she hadn't fallen asleep until at least three in the morning. "Mind if'n I join ye?"

Instead of answering, he shifted them around and down into a prone position, without releasing her. She sighed and snuggled down against his chest, and he reflected that the drugs had a rather interesting side effect. He wasn't feeling at all jumpy at her being this close. "Like I said on the journals," he murmured. "Someone's trying to get me to catch up on all the sleep I've missed in my life."

"Mmmm." She snuggled closer and then smiled up at him. "I think me dream was right...me da would 'ave liked you." Moira reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before tucking her head on his chest.