(no subject)

[x-mactaggart.livejournal.com]

After Moira is gently booted from the MedLab, she makes her way up to her and Nathan's room. Slowly, they start to talk about Mistra and how scared they both are.



Still grumbling half-heartedly under her breath, Moira stumbled up the stairs and headed towards the familiar door. With a groan, she shoved it open and then closed it quietly behind her. Madelyn meant well she knew and she knew the kicking out of the MedLab and science rooms was meant with kindness and friendship. Moira was still grumpy about it.

But she knew that might have been the stuff from the previous day and her rather astounding lack of sleep that same night. With a sigh, she finally shrugged off her lab coat and let it fall to the floor. With a frown, she knew it was probably after midnight and she should be thinking about bed. Should be, anyway.

Sprawled on the bed, Nathan didn't blink as he both heard and sensed her arrival. His ribs ached, his jaws ached, and the presence of the picture sitting on the night table was like a psychic ache he could feel, tugging at him. The lack of sleep the night before was finally hitting him, and hitting him hard.

Really, she should pick up the lab coat but Moira couldn't really care about it all that much. Instead she simply nudged it out of the way with her foot and headed towards the bedroom. She stopped at the site of him and tucked her hands into her pockets. They really hadn't talked much all day and the link and been quiet on both ends. Biting her lip, she sighed. "'ey."

"Hey," he said softly, continuing to stare up at the ceiling. He could feel her hesitance, her worry, but he couldn't muster either the strength or the will to reassure her. "Madelyn kicked you out of the Medlab."

"Aye. 'Twas me turnin' somethin' pink tha' started it." She hesitated but then walked over to the chair instead of the bed. There was an edgy tiredness to her movements but she paid it no mind as she sat down and started unlacing her shoes slowly. "She said I needed sleep."

Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, and then pushed himself back up to a sitting position, wincing at the stabbing pain in his side. He stared wearily at her, knowing he ought to go over there, take her in his arms and tell her something to make her feel better, but he couldn't. He didn't know how to make it sound convincing. "I talked to Charles," he said slowly.

Moira finished slipping her shoes off and then looked up at him. "Wha' 'e say?" she asked quietly.

Nathan smiled mirthlessly. "To calm down and sit tight, basically. He thinks it's best to give the government a chance to look into Mistra and see if they can't take care of the problem." Charles had said more, of course. About how his leaving now would leave their work with his telepathy unfinished, and a few trenchant words about how running again would leave him right back where he'd started in all the ways that counted.

She nodded and smiled slightly. "Aye, tha's Charles for ye. Though 'e's right...again." She'd really have to go have a talk with him again, soon. They didn't talk enough and the friendly baiting was soothing in it's own way. But for now...Moira shoved the shoes away from her feet and leaned back in the chair, trying to unwind just a little bit. "Besides talk ta Charles, wha' did ye do today?"

"Saw Amanda." He smiled again, more naturally this time, despite everything. "Told off Monet for exploiting the catatonic Castilian. Broke more rocks."

Moira couldn't help a small laugh. "So, normal day, aye? At least ye dinnae turn somethin' bright bloody violent pink." And violent because if there had been any less of a base in that experiment, something would have gone boom. It had been a long time since she'd been that careless and she grimaced slightly.

Nathan stared at her for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said, the words coming out barely audible.

"Dinnae apologize," she whispered, tightly. "Please."

Nathan dropped his eyes to the bed. "It just... feels like the thing to say," he muttered feebly. I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm sorry for dragging you into this. He could have said both, and half a dozen more.

"I'd say it's nay yer fault but ye wouldnae believe me," Moira said, exhaustion in her voice.

His eyes strayed sideways to the picture, then jerked away, back to her. He thought of that envelope, addressed to her, about all the implications that had for what they knew, maybe even what they were prepared to do... The tightness in his chest was crushing, suddenly, and he was sliding off the bed before he knew what he was doing, striding over and kneeling down in front of her. He reached out with shaking hands and took hers, struggling to form words, something, anything that would be coherent.

Startled by the sudden motion, Moira stared at him for a second but then saw the look in his eyes and felt the thoughts on the link. Her hands were shaking as well but she tried to hide it as she clutched his. "I'm nay goin' anywhere," she told him, wanting to ease his fear. And hers.

"I don't care what I have to do," he said unevenly. "To protect you... I'll do it. Whatever it takes." He could feel the damned picture, as if it had a psi-signature of its own.

"Wha' 'bout protectin' yerself?" she asked, knowing her voice wasn't steady either.

His throat closed, as if trying to choke off the words he knew would turn this into a screaming argument. He raised one of her hands to his lips, to buy himself a moment. "I don't want to lose you," he finally said, hoarsely. "I don't want to lose this--what we have." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I can't, Moira, I just can't..." he whispered raggedly, not even sure what he meant anymore.

Moira knew what that look meant but she let it pass for now. They were both too tired and worn out for arguing. "Ye won't," she insisted. She turned her hand over and ran it against his cheek gently. "I promise, ye willnae. I'll be 'ere as lon' as ye want me t' be, Nathan. I will." She wasn't going to cry, she reminded herself strongly.

Nathan swallowed, resting his head against her knees for a moment. "I can't believe they sent that picture," he said hoarsely. "Of all the ways to warn me..."

"I know, baby, I know." Dropping her head, Moira planted a soft kiss on his head and then started gently running her fingers through his hair. "I'm 'opin' this President can do somethin'..."

Nathan stiffened suddenly, slowly straightening and meeting Moira's eyes. "That's it," he said slowly, all but reeling with the sudden realization. "That's why now..."

"Nathan, wha'? Wha' is it?"

"The attention," he said tightly. "From the President, whoever he's got looking into Mistra. People are asking questions. Questions are dangerous." His jaw clenched. "It's not just a warning that they know where I am." It made too much sense; the note alone could have done that. The picture was just gratuitous cruelty, unless it, too, was meant to make a point. He gave a shaky laugh. "They're letting me know they're pissed."

"Let them," she said, jaw tightening, part anger, part her trying to hide her fear. This was not something she knew how to deal with easily and all she had to fall back on was her anger because she didn't want to fall back on her fear,

Nathan stared down at the floor for a moment, getting a little pissed himself. "G.W. and Dom think they're trying to provoke me into running," he said.

"They're probably right. Nathan, look where we *are*! Nay only th' best security, bot' in th' system an' in Cook, but Charles. Cain. Logan. Th' leather brigade. They want ta get ye so mad an' scared 'bout wha' may 'appen ta me tha' ye forgot wha's around ye."

Nathan swallowed. "'Go tell the Spartans, travelers passing by, that here, obedient to their laws, we lie'," he quoted, a bitter edge to his voice. "Did you ever wonder where the name came from? The project's, I mean."

"I used ta," she admitted, reaching for his hands again. "Nay as o' late."

"Their way of being clever. Mistra was a fortress built in the thirteenth century, not far from ancient Sparta." Nathan laughed hollowly. "A Spartan by any other name is still supposed to come back with his shield or on it. He's not supposed to run away."

"Ye ever notice tha' th' Spartan's died out?" she pointed out. "So will Mistra. Ye'll nay be goin' back t' them, not if'n I 'ave anythin' ta say 'bout it."

Nathan nodded slowly, unconvinced, and dragged himself back to his feet. "Come to bed?" he asked hoarsely, reaching out to her.

This time there was no hesitation as she reached back towards him and let him pull her up. She paused as he tugged her to the bed and bit her lip. They both needed to work on letting each other know the true feelings bit. "Nathan...I'm...I'm jus' a wee bit scared," Moira whispered, barely able to get that out.

He gave her a slightly wobbly smile, sitting down. "Then you're doing better than I am, love, because I'm fucking terrified."

"Okay, maybe I'm tha', too." She sat next to him on the bed, knowing she should get dressed but she stopped to snuggle into his side. "Verra tha'. Dinnae know wha' t' do."

"Hold onto each other and hope it's not still there in the morning?" he asked with a smile he knew had to be ghastly-looking.

"Lets," Moira whispered, exhaustion showing more heavily now, and tugged him back towards the pillows with her. "Let's jus'...nay let go tonight, aye?"

"Not for a second," he murmured into her hair, holding her tightly.