xp_logs | Moira and Nathan (Reply)

Moira gets a care package from her uncle, which has a rather special surprise for her and Nathan enclosed...

Nathan stepped out onto the porch, shivering a little at the chill in the air. The sky was clear, except for a few wisps of fiery clouds on the horizon, there as if to emphasize the setting sun. The fresh air didn't do much to help clear his head, but then, that was probably too much to ask of it.

"Cool out here," he said, glancing sideways at Moira, who was actually sitting on the porch (rather than in the chair), digging into her package like a kid at Christmas. The thought almost made him smile. She, of course, was in only a light sweater and looked utterly comfortable. By Muir Island standards, this was a balmy evening.

Moira paused from rifling through the package to beam up at him. "Feels bloody nice, it does." She held out a hand. "Apparently some o' this is for ye." His post from earlier was still in the back of her mind and she frowned slightly, trying to see if he was okay without asking just yet.

Nathan looked at her offered hand for a moment, and then remembered the conversation they'd had yesterday. If he was going to start shutting her out when it was just the lingering residue of a vision, it would take him until next Christmas to let down his guard enough to let her witness one. Which, despite the insistence of his instincts to the contrary, would be bad. Really. And maybe if he started telling himself that once an hour or so, he would eventually believe it.

This much he could do now, he told himself and took her hand as he settled down beside her, not blocking the link this time. He heard her breathe in a little more sharply than she should have, but he focused on the package instead. "I think this is probably a 'Come home, Moira' package," he quipped.

Her laugh was a little strained and there was worry in her eyes. "Nay, they know I'll nay be comin' 'ome fer a while, as much as I'd like ta." She spied Nathan's present in the box but settled her hands over it so he couldn't see it. Not until she knew he was okay. Mentally, she reached out and caressed the link. #Ye okay, love?# Moira blinked at the hazy thoughts on the other side.

#Slipping in and out,# he sent back, managing a faint smile. It was easier if he just focused on looking at her, rather than thinking about the way her rooms had shifted around him all afternoon. #Meds are kicking in, though.#

#Good, they'll 'elp stabilize ye.# She scooted over until she was nestled next to him and dragged the box along. "Do ye mind me askin'...th' last line o' yer journal, th' scream...what 'appened?"

Nathan hesitated, part of him rebelling at the thought of delving back into the vision. But trying to sublimate it all certainly wasn't going to help, he told himself firmly. That was another thing he needed to repeat to himself several times a day. "Some sort of planes," he said finally, when she continued to gaze up at him, apparently perfectly content to wait him out. "Small. Fast. They bombed the camp--" He stopped, his jaw clenching almost involuntarily. "I wish they wouldn't start out good and then turn into that," he said almost savagely. "It almost makes it worse."

Moira wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. "I know," she whispered, rubbing his back. Neither of them were the most patient people in the world and this waiting the visions out was starting to wear on them both. With another light touch to the link, she sent gentle, loving thoughts to him, frustrated that she couldn't do more.

"I was talking to her," he said very softly. "She was there, in the camp."

The memory of the red-headed woman sent a shiver down her back. "Ye okay?" The -last- meeting hadn't gone so smoothly and she absently touched her forehead, remembering the headache that had lasted for so long afterward.

Nathan shook his head slowly, looking down at Moira. "It wasn't like that," he said, sliding an arm around her shoulder and kissing the top of her head. "I mean she was in the vision, like she was just one of the people there--well, not just," he corrected himself. "It was pretty clear she was in charge." Only she hadn't been, not quite, he thought, frowning to himself. The man whose eyes he had been seeing through, he had been the one giving the orders when the attack came. "I was trying to protect her," he muttered. "I think." The details were getting hazy. He really ought to have written it down afterwards.

Relief flooded through her and she leaned her head on his shoulder. "Th' medicine kickin' in, I take it?" she asked as she noticed his hazy thoughts bleed over the link when he tried to concentrate on the vision. She didn't want to push him in case he tried too hard to fight the drugs and remember. She doubted that would accomplish anything. So, instead she fished into the box and pulled out a dark bottle. "Looks like me uncle 'ad some bad timin'..." It was a bottle of 18 year old Glenfiddich Scotch Whiskey, one of Nathan's favorites from the pub back home.

Nathan snorted, part of him very relieved for the excuse to focus on the here and now again. "Yeah, don't think I'll be drinking any of that while you've got me on these drugs," he said, taking the bottle from her. "Very thoughtful of Billie, though," he said, unable to help a smile. "I'll just--set it on the shelf or something and gaze longingly at it."

"Ye'll open it up once everythin's normal, aye? Ta celebrate." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. She paused and glanced back in the box. "Wha' th'...?"

Reaching in, she pushed the various food and books around and pulled out a large black album. When Moira opened it, her eyes widened. "Why th' wee *scamp*!"

"Pictures?" Nathan asked in a dry voice. "That's never good..."

"...nay, these may actually be good..." Moira's voice quieted as she looked at the first one. It was of her and Nathan at the party her uncle had thrown on the first anniversary of her being completely sober. Somehow, Billie had managed to get word to him (to this day she hadn't figured it out) and he had shown up for it. The picture showed Moira as she beamed in surprise, going forward to hug a slightly twitchy-looking but tolerant Nathan.

She flipped the page and stared. This picture was from a few years back. They had taken the boat that Moira used to shuttle between Muir and the mainland and just gone sailing that day. It showed Moira, in that bathing suit Anna had somehow convinced her to wear, dozing on the deck of the boat. Nathan sat not to far away, a book in his hand but it was obvious from the picture he wasn't interested in the book. A note was attached on this page.

~It took you guys HOW long to figure this out? Moira, you didn't even think to ask the man why he knew you were just about to start sunburning!~

"Anna and that damned camera of hers," Nathan muttered, feeling himself turning red. He flipped over the next page and stopped, startled by the next picture. It was of himself and Moira standing down by the shore, watching the sunrise. He was sitting on a rock, his back to the camera, and Moira was beside him, facing him, caught in mid-emphatic gesture, wearing her 'I'm ready to do battle' face. "She's a bloody voyeur, that's what she is," he grumbled, flushing. But he remembered that morning. He had told Moira he was meeting Bridge and Dom in London to start preparing for their next job, and she had tried to talk him out of it. Supposedly because she wasn't happy with his virus count, but...

Moira touched the picture and blushed a little herself. She hadn't wanted him to go, not only because of the virus but because she had been so very afraid he wouldn't come back. She and turned to lean up against Nate as she balanced the album on her knees. The next one nearly had her falling off the porch with laughter. It was Christmas, the Christmas they had been talking about a few days ago, in fact, and the picture showed an incredibly indignant Nathan sporting a Santa hat with Moira nearly laughing herself sick in the background. The ball of the hat was just inches away from his nose and the look he was giving Moira was enough to send her into another fit of giggles.

Nathan gave her a milder version of the same look. "You got way too much of a kick out of that," he told her, and turned to the next page. The next one had been taken in the Bairn and the Dove, and Nathan's mouth quirked at the sight of himself and Moira sitting in their favorite booth, bent over a chessboard. "I think I remember this game," he said. "If I recall correctly, I kicked your ass. Then again, I usually did."

She reached around and tried to poke him in the ribs but the angle was wrong. "So I suck at chess." Moira sniffed. "I still kick yer ass at poker."

"If you're referring to the strip poker, I let you win," Nathan said, and grinning, tried to convey the telepathic equivalent of a leer across the link.

Moira laughed and sent the sentiment right back at him. "Well, we'll 'ave ta see next time, won't we?" she asked, tilting her head to look up at him and winked.

On impulse, Nathan leaned down and kissed her, a little more seriously than was perhaps entirely appropriate, given that they were sitting out on the porch in full view of whatever students might happen by. She didn't seem to mind, though.

Moira was flushed when they stopped kissing but smiled up at him. "Need ta mention tha' more often," she muttered, turning so she could slide under his arm. Her mind quickly tried to go down a path it had decided was much more fun than boxes or pictures, but she tried to reign it back in. They were on the porch, after all. Moira cleared her throat and focused on something briefly. "They're comin' fer a visit, forgot ta tell ye tha'."

"That's good," he said, smiling. It would be nice to see Billie and Anna again, although he knew he was probably in for some ribbing. Also, most likely, a very serious 'chat', once Billie clued into what had happened between him and Moira. Which was liable to take about five seconds, and that was if there was significant jet-lag involved. "I know you've been missing home. Nothing like having the mountain come to Mohammed."

She chuckled. "Aye, I know." Her voice turned wistful. "God, I miss it. Especially in th' sprin'." Moira sighed, suddenly rather homesick. She had never lived very far from home and never for this long. Scotland, born and raised. There was something about a place where you've roots buried so far deep...her breath hitched a little in her throat.

"I know," Nathan murmured, raising a hand to stroke her hair. "It's the only place that's ever felt like home to me. I don't miss it like you do, but I do miss it."

"We'll go back soon," she said, firmly. "I'll work somethin' out." Moira knew -she- could go home but she wasn't about to go without Nathan and she wasn't about to risk him by going. Not until everything was clear. She cursed herself; she'd figure out what was going on if it killed her.

Nathan was all too aware of what was going on in her mind, but he stayed silent, thinking. He hadn't even thought of tapping his own sources to find out what was going on at Muir. There were still a number of people over on this side of the pond who owed him favors. If he stayed lucid tomorrow, he would have to send some exploratory emails. It couldn't hurt to try.

"It makes me bloody well glad tha' I never used any o' Muirs computers ta store yer data on it." No, that had all been handled by her personal laptop and encrypted disks. But there was other information on Muir. She sighed and her shoulders slumped. "Parliament's me next step...God, I 'ave ta be all bloody prim an' proper Lady Kinross..." Her nose wrinkled.

A little fact-finding wouldn't go amiss, Nathan decided. So long as he was careful and used a few of his one-shot email accounts, the chance that he would tip anyone off to his presence in the States was minimal. And it would be worth it, if he could help Moira get her island back.

Moira paused for a second and poked a the link. "Wha' are ye up to?" she asked, curious.

He paused, a little amazed that she'd picked up it, but not sure it was a good idea to tell her. But she kept gazing up at him expectantly, so he surrendered. "It strikes me that I could poke around a little, see what dirt I can dig up," he said. "About your unwelcome visitors at Muir, I mean. I do have my sources."

"Mmm." She frowned a little. "Be care, okay? An' dinnae do anythin' rash. But I appreciate any information." She kissed his cheek and smiled.

"Careful is my other middle name," Nathan said, and ducked instinctively, anticipating the swat.

Smirking, Moira started to swat his head and then suddenly went for his ribs.

Nathan yelped, then managed to catch her wrist. "I think I preferred getting smacked upside the head," he said, grinning.

"Awww, but this is more fun." She pouted at him.

He mock-glared at her. "You really don't want to know all the nefarious ways telekinesis could be put to use," he warned her.

Moira started to reply and then her brain decided to remind her that this other path it had wanted to take early was so much more fun than this one. She leaned forward, bumping noses with Nathan, and smiled. "Maybe I do?" she murmured at the same time she touched the link. #...we could always go 'ave another 'and o' strip poker an' see who's really lettin' who win...#

Nathan laughed. #Your room or mine? Oh, wait, they're technically the same thing lately, aren't they?#

---

But later, a memory becomes a dream, which becomes a nightmare that doesn't really go awake when they wake up...

---

He knew what he would find before he opened the door. He had been paying for the false identities and the flight that was supposed to get them out of the country when the link had exploded and he had realized what was happening. Had heard her, crying out on the link in shock and pain... and then nothing. It had taken him only twenty-three minutes to get back across town to the hotel, but by then, it had been far too late.

He knew this, before he opened the door. He knew it, but he went in anyway. It was the only thing he could do.

The room was dark, the curtains drawn. With one look, he took in the overturned furniture. The smashed lamp. The contents of the pitiful two bags they had managed to pack strewn across the floor.

And Tyler, lying on the bed. He went over and stood there for a long moment, staring down at the still, small body of his son. Wide, empty blue eyes. They were what finally broke him out of his daze. His hands shaking violently, he reached out and closed Tyler's eyes, smoothing his silky blond hair, bending to kiss him gently on the forehead.

There was a roaring in his ears, white noise he couldn't seem to shake. Straightening, moving like a machine, he walked around the bed and saw her. Aliya. Lying in a pool of her own blood, not peaceful-looking as Tyler had been. She had gone down fighting. He wouldn't have expected anything else.

He knelt down beside her, seeing the strip of sunlight falling across her body. The curtains weren't quite closed, and it struck him that out there, it was an ordinary day. The world was still turning and it just didn't--seem--right. Still trembling, he reached out and gathered her into his arms. Still warm. She was still warm, and he reached out to push the tangled, blood-soaked hair away from her face--

--and it was Moira. He froze, listening as some new voice from inside him cried out that this was wrong, that this wasn't the way it had happened. But then they came through the door, just like they had before. Shouting at him to get on the floor, and he knew he had to get up, to shield himself and get out through the window. He remembered falling, crashing down into the pool below.

But he couldn't move. All he could do was to stare down at Moira's face, not understanding, not believing. The furniture started to move around him, his telekinesis taking action of its own accord just as it was supposed to do, turning everything in the room into a weapon, but he couldn't move. And then they opened fire--

Moira woke up screaming and thrashed, adrenalin flooding through her body. She didn't understand the images that ran through her mind, she didn't recognize anything about them but Nathan. And her, Nathan holding her? Dead. Yes, that had been...

She sat bolt-upright, still half-asleep and nearly fell out of bed. The blankets and the shirt she had stolen from Nathan after the strip poker game tangled around her, making it almost impossible to move. She was soaked in sweat and she panted as she fought to catch her balance The room came in and out of focus as she struggled to get her...his?...thoughts to make sense.

#Nathan?!#

--hurt, it hurt. He had been shot, that much was right, but he should be in the water, struggling to get to the side of the pool. Not still in the room, lying crumpled beside her, feeling his blood soaking the carpet beneath him. Not with the world narrowing to nothing but her face, her unseeing eyes--

Except she was in his mind, screaming his name, and the dream broke apart around him, leaving him shaking and drenched in sweat as he tried to remember where he was. Moira was--Moira was beside him. Whispering his name, aloud this time, and he was holding her before he made the conscious decision to move. Shaking, he held her tightly, tears blurring his vision as the images from the dream echoed back and forth in his mind, refusing to fade completely. But she was alive, that was all that mattered. "Just a dream, just a dream," he heard someone repeating over and over again in a broken voice, and it took him a long moment to realize that it was him.

Moira whimpered and hid her face in his chest, trying to will away the shakes. But the dream...twisted memory?...stayed with her. The images and feelings that had come over the link screamed fear and pain, both real and expected, and Moira didn't have any choice but to ride it all out. A voice in the back of her mind mentioned there was a metallic taste in her mouth, meaning she had bitten down on either her cheek or her tongue, but she paid it no mind.

"Nathan? W-wha' was tha'?" She could figure out what -that- was, the original memory, from what he had told her over the years and from what bleed over the link. But the rest...she took a shuddering breath and held on tighter.

"I'm sorry," he murmured desperately, unable to muster enough composure to reach out over the link and try and soothe her. "I'm so sorry--" And he had been afraid of his visions hurting her? Seemed like his subconscious didn't need any help with that.

"Nay yer fault." Moira breathed in his scent and tried to focus on the here and now, on this room and not the dream. God, was this what it was like for him? Something occurred to her and the thought settled in her gut like a lead knot. "Did I do somethin' wron', ta set tha' off?" she asked, trying to push away briefly, still slightly panicked. Was she causing him pain somehow...?

"No--no, it wasn't you," he said raggedly, but let her pull away. If she needed the space he would give it to her. Had to give it to her, he thought miserably, his shoulders slumping as he stared down at the comforter. "It wasn't you," he repeated, his voice still not steady. "I dream about it sometimes, still. I guess I just--I'm so s-sorry, Moira--"

'Breat' MacTaggart,' she thought desperately, taking a second away from him to try and calm herself. But when she realized that wasn't working, she threw herself back into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Nay yer fault!" she whispered fiercely, still shaking. "I jus' dinnae understand, wit'..." She took another deep breath. "Wit' me in there..."

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, holding onto her for a long moment before he answered. "I guess--" He stopped, taking a deep, hopefully steadying breath. "I guess I'm afraid--I'll lose you, still. Get you killed."

She shuddered and buried her head into his neck. "Nay goin' anywhere," came the muffled reply. #I'm nay 'fraid ye will.# Moira felt him shiver and lifted her head to look at him. #Yer nay goin' ta lose me. I 'avena stuck 'round this lon' ta disappear on ye now.# Tears prickled her eyes and she blinked them back. #I'm so bloody sorry, 'oney...I worry ye, I dinnae want ta...#

"Don't," he begged her shakily, hugging her tightly. "Please don't--it's me, Moira." He tried to laugh, but it came out sounding rather strangled. "I'm just--I'm a coward about the good things in life, because I never think they'll last." Something would always come along to take them away, or destroy them. It was inevitable. That was the way his life was--

Acting on impulse, she grabbed his head and kissed him. #I'll last as lon' as I damn well please. I love ye, Nathan an' God damn it, nothin' is goin' ta destroy tha'.# She poured everything she had down the link at him, trying to get him to see that it was *worth* it.

"Just--bear with me, okay?" he murmured feebly. "I know I seem to say that a lot--"

"I'll bear wit' ye as lon' as I 'ave t'," she replied, running her hand along his jaw. Moira tried to laugh but knew it didn't come out right. "We bot' knew we were...bringin' thin's inta this relationship tha' needed time." #Wort' it.#

"Us and our baggage," Nathan tried to quip. He winced, freeing one hand to rub at his eyes. His head was already starting to ache; backlash from the link, he knew. His shields were still not properly in order, which didn't help.

"Come 'ere." She pulled Nathan back down onto the bed. As they settled down, Moira moved him around so that his head was on her chest and reached up. With sure fingers, she started to massage his temples gently. This had always taken away the hangover headaches, usually applied by her irritated and yet understanding uncle.

"That feels good," he murmured tentatively, after a minute. It really did. His eyelids were already feeling heavy, too, and he let them close, exhaling on a sigh. "Fuck, I am such a mess these days--I'm sorry."

"But I love ye anyway, no matter wha' shape ye 'appen ta be in." Moira moved her fingers slightly higher, into his scalp line, and kept up the massage. The terror from the dream was still lingering, but she concentrated on him, trying to get past that.

He sensed that, dimly, but he was so tired, exhaustion crashing down on him and trying to sweep him away-- #Love you,# he murmured, and found the strength to send one memory across the link, something he thought might help. That night on the roof at Muir, watching the meteor shower.

Moira shifted around so that she could slide down and curl up at his side. She smiled at the memory. The meteor shower had long been over with when they stumbled down the stairs, having talked for hours. Peaceful. That was what that night had been, and what the memory of it was. #Love ye too,# she sent back and nuzzled his chest as she started to drift back to sleep.