xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, Monday afternoon

While everyone is waiting for news, Nathan goes out to the quarry to break rocks in order to vent some tension. Several visions hit at once, and he has a very unusual sort of breakthrough.

Rock exploded, and Nathan swayed slightly as he contained the force in a TK bubble for roughly the twenty-first time this afternoon. If he kept at it, he thought dimly, shifting the pieces back together and focusing on reassembling the rock into something at least approximating its original shape, there weren't going to be many untouched rocks left in the quarry. Maybe he should be easing up a little, or at least leaving some for Cain.

It felt too good, though, to lose himself in this. To not think about Amanda and Angelo and that damned email, or even Manuel. To not dwell on how useless he was... grimacing, he forced the rock shards back together and let the whole thing drop.

The weather was almost offensively nice today, he thought grimly, sitting down on the boulder next to him. It should at least have the decency to reflect the atmosphere inside the mansion right? Nathan grimaced again, feeling the buzz of Moira's thoughts across the link. He really ought to be dragging her out of that lab, making her get some fresh air as well, but it wasn't as if he had much room to stand on when it came to healthy coping mechanisms, did he?

He started to lift another rock, only to drop it again as lights flickered in his peripheral vison. "Shit," he muttered, taking a deep breath and trying to compose himself as he felt the vision coming on. Focus on the mirror, he told himself. Push it to the other side of the mirror--

--children screaming, running from green soldiers--

--standing around the edges of the room as two of their number tortured a prisoner--

--prisoners screaming as gas flooded through their cells--

--the same yellow-green gas billowing across the battlefield--

Nathan gasped for air, dimly registering the fact that he had fallen to his knees on the ground. Four at once? he thought wildly. Not good, definitely not good... they weren't supposed to gang up on him. But they kept coming, pushing in on him, conflicting waves of colors and sounds and smells. Rotten apricots, he thought dizzily, the gas was like rotten apricots...

Drawing on the anger that had wound its way through every moment of this day so far, Nathan spat an Askani profanity, and imagined himself reaching out with both hands and pushing it all through the mirror.

And it worked.

Except then something happened. It felt like he had been dropped in ice water, suddenly, and he gasped aloud, shuddering as part of his mind was tugged away - but not to the future. Down, instead, down onto that desolate beach-mindscape, where the air was shimmering, little rainbow patches that coalesced into--

Mirrors? The part of Nathan that was there stared at them in shock, seeing the visions that had been flooded his mind a moment ago playing behind each of them. Like TV screens, he thought, reaching out to touch one. The flow of images slowed, then stopped, and even as he reeled back a little, stunned and oddly hopeful, the beach started to fade around him--

And he was back kneeling on the rough ground of the quarry, feeling very strange. His racing heart was already starting to slow, the spots in front of his eyes fading. Had he stopped breathing? he thought calmly, a bit surprised by how little the idea bothered him.

Everything seemed so... clear, so vivid, he thought as he looked around at the quarry. All the colors were brighter, the edges to everything sharper. A strange, crisp clarity was descending on his thoughts, bringing with it a level of composure that he hadn't felt in months.

He could like this. Even with everything so... distant. It was very strange. Yet almost... soothing.

A little later, he brings Moira her promised lunch. She senses that something's a little 'off' about him, and his new sense of calm doesn't last for very long once they start talking about it and the missing students. The conversation turns to whether some coping methods are really all that healthy, the whole subject of presidential pardons, and finally, in an unexpected twist, to Nathan's deceased wife. (OOC note: Pay no attention to the foreshadowing, really...;)

Work cured what ailed Moira. Or at least it did when Nathan wasn't currently around. And so she'd thrown herself into all the little side projects she had left laying around. Currently, she was up to thirteen various tests running and managed to keep them all straight in her head. The sounds of a well-oiled lab soothed her ragged nerves and Moira welcomed the chance to ease her mind away from the worries.

Amanda and Angelo. Manuel. When life seemed to quiet down, it only shot back up a moment later.

Moira paused in her writing and tilted her head. The link was suddenly murmuring at her, Nathan was getting closer. But...she concentrated. Something was off. Frowning, she dropped the pencil and headed toward's the door to the lab, intending to meet him half way.

Nathan blinked as he came through the door and nearly ran into Moira. "Sorry," he said a bit absently, managing not to drop her sandwich or the bottle of juice. "I was just bringing you food. Like I said." She backed into the lab, looking at him a bit worriedly, and he raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?" he asked calmly. That sense of cool, detached clarity that had followed on the heels of those visions in the quarry was still there, so he couldn't bring himself to feel too concerned.

The frown deepened as she reached around him to shut the door again. "I dinnae know, ye tell me," she replied, looking at him, concerned. "Ye look...t' calm. Wha's 'appened?"

"Too calm?" Nathan raised an eyebrow, put on the appropriately amused smile. "Didn't know there was such a thing," he said, stepping around her and putting the plate and bottle down on a clear spot, away from anything that looked like it was running. "You look very busy," he said, arranging the napkin carefully at the side of the place. "Burying yourself in work again. Not good."

"Ye blow thin's up, I bury meself, it works." She crossed her arms, jaw tightening. *Something* was wrong, damn it, and she wasn't just about to let him shrug it off as nothing. Too much of that had been going around lately. Cautiously, she reached towards the link, trying to see.

Nathan turned to her, eyeing her calmly, and let her see. There was nothing to hide, after all. She wouldn't be able to reach far enough to see the new little windows in his soul.

She shivered a little bit when she felt the link open. It felt cold and bright, like a winter day after the first snow fall. Moira looked at him curiously, withdrawing. He *did* seem calmer, more stable. "Is tha' good?"

"I think so," Nathan said, after giving the question some further thought. "Threw me for a hell of a loop when it happened, but... yes." He smiled again at her and it came a little more naturally this time. Her presence on the link had been... warming, somehow, without sacrificing that clarity. The best of both worlds.

"Wha' 'appened?" she asked, approaching him slowly. It was one of those occasion where, even with the link, she was still hesitant. Something had happened, that was for sure. More good than bad, it seems like, thankfully.

He tilted his head, trying to find some way to explain it to her. "Too many visions at one time," he said. "I tried to push them to the other side of the mirror, to separate myself from them, and it just... clicked, suddenly. They're all still there, in my memories, but they're not... pushing anymore."

"Nay overridin' ye?" she whispered, that weird feeling of hope poking it's head up in the back of her mind.

"No," he murmured, turning inward for a moment. The beach was still there, blasted and desolate, but so were the mirrors. Four of them, floating in a rough circle. He could sense the lives - and deaths - on the other side, but they were quiescent, waiting. "I don't know what will happen the next time, but... this is progress, right?"

"Aye, it 'tis," Moira said, firmly. "If'n ye managed tha', it'll probably get easier th' next time. Or so we can 'ope." She started to say more before but something dinged quietly in the corner of the room. "'an' on." Quickly, she went through the list of what was where and what was what, and realized that was some of the older data from Muir. As she flipped through the read outs, she looked over at Nathan over the top of the sheets. "Ye feelin' okay?" Her voice still carried a hint of worry in it.

Nathan thought about that for a minute. "Feeling a bit distant," he admitted after a moment, "but that's not such a bad thing. Especially today." He focused on her, feeling the seething thoughts on the other end of the link. "Any word yet?" he asked quietly, not expecting an affirmative answer. She would have yelled, if there had been.

"Nay. Damn it." With careful movements, Moira replaced the test and started it up again. Her reactions to harsh emotion, anger, fear, always changed when she was in the lab. Too many breakables, so she controlled it tightly, like a spring being held tight. "Nay any word, not since th' e-mails an' th' announcements."

"I can't understand what they were thinking," Nathan murmured to himself, feeling a distant flicker of the fear and angry helplessness Amanda's email had provoked. "Do they not teach any of these kids strategic thinking skills?"

"I'm assumin' they do." Moira sighed and her shoulders suddenly slumped. "They also seem ta teach them a good deal 'bout loyalty an' protectin' th' ones ye care for..."

"There's a reason that 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions' is a cliche," Nathan said, wandering over to one of the empty lab stools and sitting down. "I just hope..." Another vibrant flicker of angry fear, closer this time, and Nathan shifted on the stool, grimacing. Damn it, he thought with an inward sigh. Should have known this was too good to last. "I hope they don't make it all the way down that road," he said, and heard the weariness in his voice. "If for no other reason than I want a turn at kicking their asses when they're safely back."

She waved a hand at him. "I get dibs." The work around her flashed on its merry way but Moira ignored it as she headed over to Nathan. They'd been doing this whole "I'm fine, really" stand off thing a little too long, she decided. Especially when she felt the link waver a little. "Ye okay?"

Nathan opened his mouth and then closed it again, a shudder racing through him as he realized why he had liked that cool, centered feeling so much. Because it was familar; because it was the same sort of detachment he had so often enjoyed during his time at Mistra, when his conditioning had kicked in to keep the emotions that would have interfered with his work at a distance. "I--yeah, I'm okay," he said a bit more hesitantly.

"'ey, what 'appened ta tha' nay needin' ta pretendin' ta be stron' when we're nay, stuff?" she murmured, reaching for his hands.

"Oh, but coping is fun," he said a bit edgily, but didn't pull away. Surely it was still a good thing, even given that unsettling similarity, which really should have occurred to him immediately. "How's Manuel, by the way?"

With a roll of her eyes, Moira let him have his way. For a second. "Still in a coma. 'is brain...'tis like it's protectin' itself. 'ealin' coma, again." She suddenly glared at him and tightened her grip on his hands. "Now ye listen ta me, Nathan, I know somethin's nay right, ye've been avoidin' contact since ye came in. An' now yer avoidin' th' subject." Her gaze went behind her to the food he brought and she looked back at him, steel in her voice. "Ye dinnae stop actin' like this an' tell me wha's goin' on or wha's wron'...I'll 'forget' ta eat."

Nathan started to brush it off with a wry comment, but by then she'd said the thing about forgetting to eat, and he blinked at her, realizing that she was quite serious. "It's--nothing important," he said with a sigh. "Just... fuck, I'm being petulant. I felt so good after I came in from the quarry. So calm. But as soon as I started to think too hard about Amanda and Angelo, it started to slip..." He hesitated, his jaw clenching. "And then I realized I knew that feeling."

Her gaze softened a little. "Wha'?" she asked, quietly, relaxing the grip on his hands slightly. She rubbed her thumbs over his knuckles, trying to get him to relax a little.

Revulsion stole his voice for a moment. "We used to call it the 'Zen level'. It was--is part of the conditioning. We'd kick down to that level when we needed cool focus and no emotions getting in the way." He swallowed, looking away. "I'm not sure I like the idea of coping with the visions by falling back into old patterns. And I enjoyed it, Moira... it felt good, like I said."

"O' Nathan...'ey, look at me, ye." Dropping one of his hands, Moira reached over and tugged up on his chin gently. "Ye'll get over tha'. Now tha' ye know wha' 'appened, it'll be easier next time ta avoid it. Th' way ye 'andled th' vision itself, though...part o' th' trainin' or was tha' a good thin'?"

"Something...new," he said uncertainly, and then reached down the link, showing her the beach and the mirrors. "It's what Charles and I had been working on, a visualization exercise adapted from one of my old techniques. It's supposed to be one mirror, though. Not separate windows for individual visions. They just kind of... popped up."

"Good, then," she murmured. "I dinnae think ye'll see th' full affect o' those mirrors until next time but...I'm 'opin' it'll 'elp. As fer tha' Zen level thin'...Nathan, ye know if'n ye need ta cope wit' a vision, all ye 'ave t' do is either come get me or send for me."

"I didn't do it deliberately, though," he murmured, troubled. "It was never unconscious, before..."

Moira made a small sound and stepped up, wrapping her arms around him. "'ey, it's okay, sweetie, really. Ye're stressed right now, worried."

Nathan gave an unsteady sigh, hugging her back. "Too much in my head," he muttered. "Getting kind of tired of that."

"Ye'll get it out soon. One step at a time, remember?" Gently, she ran one hand up and down his back to ease the tension. "Whole world went ta 'ell today."

"Seems to do that on a regular basis," he grumbled. "Usually just when we start thinking things are going well." He looked up at her with a bit of a smile. "We never discussed that whole potential pardon thing Charles mentioned." He snorted, his eyes narrowing a little. "I still can't believe he actually brought me up to the President. He must be very fond of you."

"Nay we dinnae," she muttered, eyes widening slightly. "An', aye, 'e is. Been friends since before Kevin was born." Moira paused. "God, I feel old. But wha's this 'bout a pardon?"

Nathan chuckled softly. "You'll hit me for not mentioning it to you, but apparently when he was bringing up the question of pardons for Marie and some of the others to McKenna, he mentioned me."

"I *am* goin' t' 'it ye...later, when I stop 'uggin' ye." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "So...?"

He shrugged. "Still in the works, I gather." He really couldn't get all that excited about it, and he could sense that Moira was baffled by that. "Oh, I suppose it would be good to get some of the heat off, and I appreciate what Charles is trying to do. Doesn't solve the real problem, though." He smiled thinly. "Especially since the President has apparently never heard of Project Mistra."

"'e...oh bloody 'ell." She sighed, completely exasperated. "Doesnae know 'bout this, 'is Army doesnae know 'bout Essex bein' on Muir. Wha' th' bloody 'ell are they *doin'* exactly in tha' government o' theirs?"

"There's the question of the hour," Nathan said, that tight, defensive smile lingering. "Or the decade. Or hell, the last thirty years."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, dropping her head onto his shoulder.

He raised a hand and stroked her hair. "It's okay," he said quietly. "I just... didn't want to mention any of this when Dom and G.W. were here. They didn't have much more of a choice than I did, when it came to getting into this life."

"I know. 'Tis jus' so bloody...frustratin', all o' it. I was wonderin' wha' was up." She wrinkled her nose at him. "We bot' really need ta get better at usin' this link, dinnae we? We nay used ta bein' able ta lean on others..."

"It's so different with you than it was..." Nathan started to say, and then cut himself off so abruptly that he nearly bit his tongue.

Moira froze suddenly and swallowed. Oh boy. This...this was the issue they both had danced around since everything had started. "Ye can say it," she murmured, moving her head closer to his neck. Mainly so she didn't have to look him in the eye for this. She had been, and still was, curious and sometimes felt as if she, well, wasn't good enough in comparison.

"There's no comparing the two of you," Nathan said, his voice rough with emotion. He shifted a little, but didn't release her. "You are... very different than she was. She was strong, too, but... in a different way."

"I'm sorry," Moira whispered, "dinnae mean for tha' ta...get across." She sighed. This was so different than the stuff between her and Joe. Looking back, she realized she hadn't loved him. At all. It had been a marriage of accident, circumstance. Her to him because she thought she had been pregnent; him to her because of title and money. This was new and kind of scary territory to be going through with Nathan. "I jus'...dinnae know wha' t' do."

"I never told you much about her, I know." Nathan stared across the lab, not seeing the tables and equipment, only his memories. "She told me she had tried to get permission to come to Muir, when you had me there the first time. They wouldn't let her. They told her I wasn't liable to live out the month, and then didn't let her come."

"Jesus. 'ad I known..." She gritted her teeth, knowing full well she wouldn't have been able to do anything even if she had known.

"I always wondered..." The words caught in his throat and he pulled back a little, meeting Moira's eyes with a mixture of shame and weary determination. "Part of me always wondered, if Aliya had come to Muir with Tyler, if we had tried to run from there..." He trailed off, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

Her voice caught in her throat and she found it hard to talk. #I'm sorry,# she whispered along the link, closing her eyes. Gently, she tried to gather herself away from the link. She didn't know how to shield or if she could, so this was the best way. Nathan didn't need to hear her doubting herself in this situation, not now.

Nathan felt her pulling back, and shook his head doggedly. "No, Moira," he said tiredly. "I had to say it, but it's not... it didn't happen." He managed a very tight smile. "They're gone," he said, finding the words every bit as difficult to say now as ever. "I didn't move fast enough when I got back, miscalculated what the program directors were willing to do, and I got them killed. I think I've learned to live with that by now."

The look Moira gave him was worried but with the knowledge that she knew he wasn't. Her lips tightened at the 'I got them killed' line but she wasn't sure what he'd do if she argued with him. He always brushed her off when she tried to get him to stop taking all the responsiblity on himself. She suddenly swallowed when she found him looking at her and realized things were slipping over the link. Moira sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm jus' feelin'..." Selfish. It was one of those cases were she wouldn't trade what they have for the world but while her path had been hard, his had been worse.

It was what he needed to pull himself back out of the morass of memories, strangely enough. "Listen to me," he said, reaching up to frame her face between his hands. "It's not selfish. I don't regret this--you and me, Moira. I couldn't. Ever." He leaned forward a little, kissing her for a long, lingering moment, until he felt her start to relax. "Now is all we really have," he murmured when he came up for air. "And now is worth every bit of what came before."

She really couldn't help the tears that started to cloud up and she blinked her eyes rapidly. "God, I'm sorry," she sniffled a little and leaned into his touch. "I dinnae want t' say anythin' but...I'm stupid sometimes, bear wit' me?"

"Always," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her again.