xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, Thursday evening and late at night...

Moira surprises the birthday boy. The gift is a big hit. They get a little silly again, and there is dancing...

Moira fidgeted. Patience had never exactly been her strong suit and waiting for Nathan to finally make it back was killing her. The urge to poke him on the link nearly won but she batted it down. He'd catch *something* over the link and she wanted this to be a complete surprise. She'd owe the boys a good number of drinks for their help with this. She had been going to just leave well enough alone and leave the gift out but for some bizarre reason her rather small romantic side decided to run rampant. She blamed Nathan and last night.

The gift stood back a ways, covered in an extra sheet she had around. The fact that music was coming from under the sheet was a small giveaway but...Moira smiled brightly. Nathan would have no idea. She'd also given in and decided for a bit of "cute" on the side of his gift. It had been a long day, so she'd stripped down and stolen that silk shirt she'd bought him for the dinner the other night. She'd refused to light candles. It had been a struggle but she managed to overcome. Now, if only he'd hurry *up*.

Nathan came down the corridor, smiling to himself. It had been a while since he and Pete had gotten the chance to sit down and catch up outside the context of one job or another. Between the no-holds-barred conversation and the gun shopping, the afternoon had been well spent, he decided. He had put his new acquisition into Moira's gun cabinet downstairs with some reluctance. This had been the longest stretch of time he'd spent without sleeping with a gun beneath his pillow in... well, in fifteen years, probably.

As he approached Moira's rooms he tilted his head, smiling quizzically as he sensed the bubble of excited thoughts coming down the link. "Oh, I see," he murmured to himself, chuckling. It seemed he had been the victim of a conspiracy. Imagine that. He walked a little more briskly, wanting to see exactly what the end results of the scheme were.

A surge of amusement filtered down the link and Moira pouted. Just a little bit. Well, this simply meant he knew something was up but not what that was. She tossed the book she'd been pretending to read over her shoulder and scooted to the end of the bed and waited for him.

Nathan opened the door to the sound of Sinatra crooning 'The Way You Look Tonight', and he froze in the doorway, blinking, at the all-too-appropriate image of Moira, wearing nothing but his shirt, curled up on the bed and giving him a smile that seemed equal parts come-hither and nervous. "Okay," he said with a laugh, coming in and closing (and locking) the door behind him. "This day just keeps getting better."

"Wha', ye thought I'd leave yer birthday wit' me jus' makin' fun o' ye?" Moira teased. She thought about it for a second and realized they'd never been together on either his birthday or hers and she smiled a little more. Seems like this was a year for firsts for them.

Nathan blinked again and then grinned, a grin that faded into puzzlement as he moved forward into the room and looked around for the source of the music. The small stereo on the other side of the room was dark, and the music was coming from the other direction anyway. He spotted something that hadn't been there when he'd left this morning, something a couple of feet tall and hidden underneath a sheet, of all things. He looked back at Moira, the smile coming back as he saw how expectantly she was watching him.

"Some mindreader I am," he teased, going over to pull the sheet back. "I should have figured you were plotting something--" What was beneath the sheet made him stop mid-sentence, words abruptly failing him. "Wow," he said wonderingly, crouching down in front of the antique radio and running a hand over the smooth curve of the wooden case. "This is just... Moira, this is incredible," he said, tearing his eyes away from it to give her an astonished grin before turning back to his gift, examining every detail in fascination.

Giggling slightly, Moira slid off the bed. "Thought ye'd like it," she said softly, coming up behind him. She couldn't help but feel a little smug. The link was fair to bursting now and she rather enjoyed turning Nathan into a gleeful three year old. "'ad some 'elp gettin' it up 'ere an' ye out o' 'ere." Pete and Cain had both earned themselves several rounds of drink at Harry's. There was still some nervousness left over; she hadn't realized how much she had wanted him to like this.

He turned to her, still grinning, and pulled her down beside him. "It's beautiful," he said, hugging her. He had always loved antiques - antiques of all types, really - despite the fact that he had never had much chance to do much collecting. This, though... this was just about a work of art. He freed a hand and adjusted the volume delicately. "Absolutely beautiful. And you found the perfect radio station, too." The Sinatra song wound down and he laughed aloud as it was replaced by the Andrews Sisters singing 'Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy'.

She snuggled up to his side and tucked her legs under her. "Took me a bloody 'our ta find it," she groused good naturedly. "Dinnae 'elp tha' Cain kept tryin' ta make recomendations fer radio stations. Bastard." Moira kissed his shoulder and smiled, feeling rather pleased with herself. "I was goin' ta 'ide it in 'ere when I originally ordered it but considerin' I think 'my' rooms 'ave become 'ours', Cain stashed it in th' boathouse."

"So you had Pete and Cain both on board," Nathan grinned. "Scheming woman." He was back to not being able to stop smiling, he realized, but it was a different feeling, this time. Not the admittedly-enjoyable glee at the prospect of a new gun, but something deeper. Real happiness, part of him pointed out slyly, something that really should have terrified the rest of him. "Scheming, beautiful woman who knows me far too well," he murmured, and bent to kiss her.

Moira sighed happily and leaned into the kiss. She cupped his chin when she pulled back and smiled gently. The link felt pleasantly warm in the back of her mind and Moira beamed, pleased she had caused that to happen. She decided she liked it when Nathan smiled this much and traced his lips gently with her fingers. "Damn, I'm good," Moira remarked, laughing a little.

The next song was 'For Sentimental Reasons', and Nathan laughed again. "I think I've owed you a dance now for a number of years," he said mischievously, getting up and pulling her with him. "And the door is safely locked."

Moira melted a little bit and smiled up at Nathan. "Aye, ye -do-, since ye bolted on me tha' one Christmas," she teased. Dancing was something she loved to do and she prided herself on being damned good at it. But now, there was just--something else, a comfortableness with the steps and each other that made her heart sing. With each step, they slowed down slightly until they ended up swaying slightly in each other's arms. This was something she could get very, very used to, Moira realized, putting her head over where his heart was beating.

Later that night, however, Nathan's visions make a reappearance, and he and Moira are reminded that nothing lasts. Especially not happiness.

***

He woke up, realizing there was something wrong.

For a long moment, he stared up through the darkness at the bedroom ceiling, unable to figure out what the problem was. Moira was curled up beside him, so soundly asleep that the only thing that came across the link was a content, barely audible whisper. The room itself was quiet, and as he tentatively pushed his awareness outwards, he didn't sense anyone in pain or otherwise in need. There was nothing here, he tried to tell himself. No threat. No danger.

But the sense of wrongness lingered, building steadily, and Nathan took a shaky breath, shifting uneasily in bed, his hands going white-knuckled on the covers. "Please don't," he whispered aloud, his voice sounding too harsh in the silence. Something was buzzing at the back of his mind, like indistinct, distant voices. Voices that were getting louder. "Please..." His voice broke and he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to hold back a moan as images flickered through his mind, ghosts that grew brighter and more solid even as he tried to push them away.

Crying, there were children crying. Nathan's breath caught in his chest, and he opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Part of him still saw the ceiling, still felt the bed beneath him, but the balance inside his head was shifting again. The images were no longer ghosts, but a unified whole, completely and visceral, and he felt himself being pulled into the vision, unable to resist.

Barren mountains, under a greenish sky, and he was walking at the head of a column. Not of soldiers this time - only a handful were armed - but of civilians. They were exhausted and thirsty, choking on the dust, but he knew he had to keep them moving. There was nothing left behind them. Only the ruins of their home, only the dead and soon-to-be-dead. Their only hope was to head north, to safety. But the children were crying, and he felt their despair as if it was his own. It made every step so hard. Determination wasn't enough, in the end...

Heavy. That's what woke Moira up. The link felt heavy in her mind, weary. She struggled to wake up but she was moving so slowly. Something was wrong, she shouldn't be this tired, not even after...her eyes snapped open finally as realization sank in. "Shit, Nathan." Moira managed to roll over, still feeling so damned weary. She hadn't been dragged into this vision, he'd apparently at least partially shielded the link. Which meant she could act.

Nathan's skin was cold to the touch and Moira cursed under her breath. And then gagged. The link was partially shielded all right. She wasn't going to see what he saw but everything else, even the 'smell', crept around the weak shielding.

#Nathan, wake up.# It was a weak attempt, clumsy, as she tried to get her bearings.

Someone was calling him, and he looked back over his shoulder at the column. No one seemed to be trying to get his attention, though, so he turned back to the hill in front of him, focusing on the climb. Even though what he wanted to do was lie down, sleep for the next two days. She had given him this charge, this duty. He wasn't going to fail her.

But when he reached the crest of the hill and looked down, even that failed him. "~Bright Lady, no,~" he whispered, sick as he stared down into the dry riverbed below and saw it. "~No...~" Another column, or at least the remains of it. They lay where they had fallen, corpses rotting in the sun.

The overwhelming sensation of death came billowing across the link and Moira recoiled, stomach heaving. It seemed that the partial shielding was only making the other sensations that much worse and she tried to count to ten, tried to stop the sick feeling from reaching a boiling point. Nathan twitched but there wasn't any other sign he was coming out of it and she cursed, gasping for air.

Mentally, she slammed against the link, trying to get *through* damn it. Was the shielding keeping her from him as well?

Some of the others were coming up behind him now, and he tried to turn, to tell them that they would have to take another way around, but one of the women saw the bodies and cried out, running down the slope towards them. Others followed, the grief spreading quickly, and he was helpless to stop them. "~Wait,~" he started hoarsely, catching at the arm of one of his own soldiers, the handful of fighters that had survived to join the column.

The man wrenched his arm away, glaring at him. "~We have to bury them, my lord,~" he said, red-eyed, and then started down the slope again.

Too much, he thought dazedly. The escape from the city, three days march on little water and less food. He couldn't hold them together. There was a point at which the spirit would no longer sustain the body...

Then, a sphere of boiling blue-white light exploded out of nowhere, swallowing one woman and several others around her. His heart lurched within his chest and he took a step forward before common sense reasserted itself. "~Plasma mine! Stay where you are!~" he shouted desperately, but those who had reached the bottom were already starting to scream and scatter, and there was another explosion, and another--

It was like someone set her mind on fire and Moira shrieked, grabbing her head. She didn't know what to do and she tried to force the panic back down. Now was not the time, she snarled at herself. The link was always stronger when they were touching, she knew, so she attempted to brace herself when her hand shot out and grabbed Nathan's shoulder.

It didn't work and the bright lights that had only been trickling now came across full blast.

#...god damn it nathan wake UP! owowowowowowscaredpainwhimper...*wakeupdamnye*!#

--dying. They were dying, and he was failing them. "~Oath, stay where you are! STOP!~" he cried out. But they weren't listening, and the motherless Canaanites had to have mined the whole area around the bodies. Another mine went off, and he started down the slope, shouting at the survivors to stop running, not to move.

#...nathan...#

He tripped on the rough ground, tumbling helplessly down to the bottom of the hill until he landed in a crumpled, bruised heap. A child, a little girl ran past him, screaming, her eyes wide with fear, and as she passed him, he heard a tell-tale click.

And his world vanished in fire.

It was when he stopped breathing that Moira nearly completely lost it. #"Damn it, Nathan!"# she shrieked, both talking and sending at the same time as she reached for him, fighting past the smells and sensations in her mind. Fire, burning, her stomach heaved and she fought it down once again. It didn't matter that the link held strong and logically she knew he couldn't be...but logic wasn't exactly in abundance right now.

When she put her hands on his chest, to check for a hearbeat, he jerked violently and she screamed, startled enough to lose her balance and tumbled off the bed. Moira didn't move for a minute, just breathed and fought with her stomach.

The bedroom took shape around him again, slowly, almost reluctantly, and Nathan gasped for air, not understanding why his lungs were burning. He could feel the bed beneath him, and somewhere close, Moira. The link was resonating with shock and pain and terror, but he couldn't tell whether it was his or hers or whether it belonged to the refugees...

They were screaming in his mind, still. Somewhere, the chaos was still there, still going on. A woman was shrieking, fighting to get away from the two men trying to hold her back, to keep her from reaching her daughter, who was huddled on the dry, cracked earth of the riverbed, crying softly, too terrified to move. An old man was keening over what remained of his family. The smell of burning flesh was heavy in the air, and Nathan, even from a safer distance, could smell it as if it were here in the bedroom, too. A broken moan slipped out from behind his gritted teeth and he squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing growing more ragged, not less, as he curled into a ball on the bed, shaking.

Moira tried to sit up and winced. She was going to be sore in the morning. Ignorning the stomach, she crawled back up onto the bed and reached for Nathan. #Nathan, please 'ear me this time, pleasepleaseplease...# She curled her hands around his and whispered his name.

The voice was so soft, so imploring. He tried to listen to it, not the screaming. It was calling his name, after all. Slowly, so very slowly, the last of the vision receded. He opened his eyes, saw the blur he knew was Moira's face, bending over him. He was moving before he made the decision to move, his body obeying him only sluggishly as he clung to her, his breath still coming in great sobbing gasps.

"Oh God, Nathan." Moira clung back, rubbing his back in soothing circles. "Shhh, yer back wit' me, 'tis okay." Mentally, she slumped. So much for hoping the visions would go away. And today of all days for them to start back up again. The link was so taut it nearly hurt but she tried to soothe that out as well.

#I'm sorry--I'm so sorry--# he thought half-deliriously, sensing that mixture of pain and anger and not understanding that it wasn't directed at him. He had hurt her and he had failed them--

#Dinnae ye *dare*!# The voice sounded pitiful even to Moira. #Nay yer fault, none o' this is!#

#I couldn't stop them--they were so scared, they wouldn't listen--# He kept his eyes tightly closed, not wanting to open them, not wanting to know if any of them were here, watching him sorrowfully, whispering to him about how they didn't want to be forgotten.

#Nathan, listen ta me...tha' wasnae *ye*.# Moira placed her forehead against his and ran her hands over his shoulder. #Wasnae ye, keep tellin' yerself tha'.# She couldn't help the tremor that ran through her and she gulped in some air. Damn her stomach, she thought. The fear was trying to bubble up again and she started to shiver.

Not him? But he had been there, had seen it all, felt it all... Nathan opened his eyes slowly, reluctantly, blinking at Moira. Her face was right there, the only thing in the world. "I f-felt... I thought I was..." He stopped, before any more disjointed words could come out of his mouth. "Y-You're scared," he whispered unsteadily. "I didn't... did you s-see?"

"Nay," she whispered back. "Ye partially shielded th' link, sweetie. I jus' got...sensations, thoughts." She shuddered. "A-an' ye stopped--ye stopped breathin' for a second, when everythin' exploded in me 'ead. I could feel th' link but I thought..." That was the straw that broke the camel's back and Moira twisted away, reaching for the trash can by the side of the bed and barely made it in time as her stomach started to empty it's contents. The smell, the burning, the sight of him...

Shaking, Nathan reached out to her, or tried. He managed to touch her arm, his own stomach twisting as the link intensified and he felt her fighting her own body, struggling for control. "It's--it's all right," he murmured brokenly. "Moira..."

Moira gasped and sat up slowly, wiping her mouth with a shaking arm. "God, Nathan, I'm sorry..." She'd meant to stay in control, until after he was asleep, like last time.

Nathan sagged against the bed, his eyes burning as he heard the thought across the link. How could he do this to her? he thought disjointedly. How could he...

"Because I care enough ta let ye," she whispered, reaching for him. "'Tis nay yer fault, Nathan."

'I thought--" The words caught in his throat, and from what seemed like an increasing distance Nathan listened to himself continue, his voice breaking on every word. "I t-thought it... I knew it couldn't be, but I thought it was o-over, Moira... I wanted to b-believe it..."

"Baby, come 'ere." Moira had barely opened her arms when Nathan burrowed his way into them. "I know, I know." She blinked back tears of her own and stroked his back. "It will be, one day, I promise. Nathan, shhh." Her heart broke when she realized where Nathan put his head, the silk shirt of his was getting wet.

The distance kept growing, a wider and wider gulf opening between him and the memories, the despair. Everything except the feel of her arms around him, the sound of her voice. Only that was real.

Moira realized his skin was still incredibly clammy to the touch and pulled away for a second. He had a dazed look that worried her. She cast a glance down at herself and grimaced. She wasn't in the best condition, either. "Come on," she murmured, sending soothing thoughts against the link when he protested weakly as she pulled him upright and off the bed. He didn't argue, which actually worried her a even more, but clung to her as she walked him into the bathroom.

In a few seconds, she'd managed to pull off what they'd ended up wearing to bed and quickly turned on the shower. Moira tested it with her arm and when it was hot enough to ease aches but not to hurt, she tugged him in after her. She didn't expect him to pull her down with him to the floor but didn't protest as he curled up around her. The water ran over them both as they knelt in the shower together, both still shaking slightly.