xp_logs | Moira and Nathan, very late Monday night

Helping to fix Manuel and Amanda's link leaves Nathan struggling with his own demons and Moira is sucked into his nightmares again as a passive observer. Even after the dream is over and they're both awake, there's still something to come out, something about his family's deaths that Nathan's been carrying around with him for seven years. (warning: very looooong.)

For transactions like this, you always paid in cash. "Fifteen thousand," Nathan said tiredly as his contact, a weasely-looking little man who nonetheless had the reputation of being one of the best suppliers of fake documents on the west coast, examined the money in the envelope he'd just handed over. "It's all there." He stared at the briefcase on the hood of the car, as if he could see through the leather exterior to the documents inside. Three fake passports and related documentation, three airline tickets to Moscow...

Moira blinked and looked around. Where *was* she? She paused. No, 'where were they' was the question, she realized as she found herself staring at Nathan, who looked like he had roughly seven years ago after the virus. Slowly, she moved up to stand near the two men but neither of them paid her any attention. That was odd, especially Nathan's lack of reaction. Frowning, Moira waved her hand in between them and remained puzzled at another lack of reaction. Whatever was happening, she figured, she'd find out soon enough.

The supplier nodded, sticking the envelope into his inside jacket pocket and then snapping open the briefcase. "As is everything you asked for," he said, reaching in. "I hope you appreciate the discount, Mr. Dayspring. This was rather short notice."

He handed over the three passports first, and Nathan opened each of them, relieved to see that they looked authentic. Had the proper security features and all. "The Winters family?" he asked a bit roughly, staring down at the picture of Tyler. "These'll stand up to a typical customs inspection?"

"Typical, yes. Extensive, no. If you wanted better documents you should have given me more time." The supplier gave a chilly smile as he handed over the airline tickets. "Economy-class, American Airlines to Moscow. A very popular jumping-off point for people who want to disappear, I've noticed."

Moira cursed as she heard the exchange. With a sinking feeling, she looked around and then felt along the link. It was buzzing but kind of hard to grab a hold of. Meaning...they were both asleep and this was a dream. She narrowed her eyes in thought. No, not just a dream. A memory. She cursed again.

"Gratuitous observations are generally hazardous in our line of work," Nathan said a bit coldly, checking the airline tickets as well. "Something to keep--" He stopped, his eyes widening as shock and panic suddenly seared down the link from Aliya's end.

"Mr. Dayspring?" the supplier asked. "What is--"

Gunshots. Aliya was hearing gunshots. Dropping passports and plane tickets alike, Nathan turned and bolted for his car.

Moira gasped as the entire area seemed to blur and run together. Like paint melting in the sun, the colors mingling. Suddenly she found herself in the seat of a car with Nathan driving. The hotel. He was going to the hotel. Despite the knowledge it was only a dream, she still clung to the bar above her seat. Everything seemed so real, she was even being jostled slightly by the rough turns.

When she glanced out the window, she bit back another curse. The scenery was flowing by so fast as they went, abnormally fast even. She didn't know if this was a product of it being a dream or if he really *had* driven that fast.

Nathan held onto the steering wheel for dear life, trying desperately to focus on the road. Back, he had to get back... but there were too many of them, too many for her to fight. Tyler! Ty, get down! he heard Aliya scream, and a curse that was half-sob escaped him, tears pouring down his face. The car swerved, but trained instincts took over, keeping him from driving off the road.

Moira nearly fell over and decided that even if it was a dream, buckling up might be a good idea. Frustration swelled up in her. There was *nothing* she could do. This was a memory very deeply ingrained, and after everything that had happened to him today, it would be difficult to break him out of it. Until it reached its end, of course. It didn't help that she was stuck in here as well. She only hoped they were nearing the hotel soon...part of her did, anyway. The rest was simply dreading it.

They had her on the ground. They had her on the ground, and Nathan jerked in his seat, feeling the echo of each blow. He was starting to hyperventilate, he knew that, but he couldn't help that, couldn't...

#NATHAN! Nat--#

It was a snap, an audible snap followed by a white-hot explosion of pain behind his eyes. Nathan cried out, nearly losing control of the car again. Somehow, he didn't. Somehow, he swerved out of the path of the oncoming truck and kept going, seeing the shape of the hotel appearing down the road. Kept going, even as he choked on the blood suddenly running down the back of his throat, even as the corner of his mind where she had been, where there had been warmth and light, was suddenly gone, a hungry, howling void that tore pieces of him away, sucking them down into the emptiness.

But he kept going. He had to get there.

Had to.

There was no helping a slight whimper when Moira caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. Nathan was starting to bleed. Nose, ears, possibly the eyes. This was not good, not good at all. She slammed into the door again and closed her eyes, wincing. Instantly she knew she wasn't in the car anymore, the blurring effect was somehow there even with her eyes tightly screwed shut.

"Oh nay," she breathed, opening them up again. They were in the hotel hallway and she swallowed painfully. She didn't want to see. She didn't.

Gun out, Nathan reached out a shaking hand to the doorknob. It opened. Not locked. He stepped in slowly, grabbing at the wall to steady himself. The room was wrecked. Overturned furniture, a smashed lamp. Someone had gone through their bags, strewing the contents all over one of the beds.

Tyler was on the other, under a blanket. His son's name caught in Nathan's throat, and he concentrated on the steps it took to get him over the bed. One foot in front of the other. One foot...

If she hadn't known this was a dream, Moira would have been screaming by now. But she wrapped that knowledge around her as tightly as she could and followed him in. The last time she had seen this scene, Nathan had dreamed it had been her on the floor instead of his wife. The time before that, the memory of Tyler had brought up her own memories of her son's death. So she concentrated as hard as she could. They didn't need that kind of backlash.

With cautious steps, she stepped around and over the pieces of furniture, lips pressed tightly together at the sight of Nathan's son.

Nathan stared down at Tyler, seeing the dark stains beneath the blanket. Wide blue eyes, staring vacantly. Empty. Nothing there in his mind, not even a flicker of what had been there, that bright, lively, happy mind... Nathan saw his bloodstained hand reach out, close Tyler's eyes. Bending over, he kissed Tyler's forehead, stroking his silky blond hair once.

Goodbye. He needed to say goodbye, but he couldn't. Couldn't get the words out, just couldn't...

She was shaking from the effort of holding herself back from reaching for him. It wouldn't have helped, she wasn't really there. Moira bit back a small sob at the sight of him bending over Tyler and turned her head. Her eyes widened when she spotted the fallen form of Aliya and her mouth went dry. She knew where this was leading and suddenly she just wished for this dream to end and for them both to wake up.

One foot in front of the other. One step at a time. Nathan moved across the room, knelt down beside Aliya. Shaking, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, smoothing the blood-soaked hair away from her face. There was an echo in her mind, fading, a flicker of color vanishing into the darkness. "I'm sorry," he breathed, the words wrenching themselves free, barely audible. He couldn't see her. Couldn't see... "I'm sorry... so sorry..."

He heard the door open behind him, the safety coming off one gun, then another.

"On the floor, Dayspring - now!"

Moira spun on her heel and gasped at all the guns pointing at Nathan. She edged backwards, knowing that she wouldn't get hurt but there was still that flash of panic that she couldn't ignore.

Nathan felt them there, the familiar presences. He knew them all. Every one of the six operatives holding their guns on him; he had worked with them, trained all but a couple of them. Two had been friends.

Yet they had done this.

He laid Aliya back on the floor, very gently. Goodbye, he thought emptily. I'm so sorry. "No," he murmured. "I don't think--I'll be doing that."

"Get on the floor NOW!"

He had dropped his gun by the bed. But hers was there, a couple of feet away, lying on the bloodstained carpet. "Fuck you," Nathan said calmly, and dove for it. They fired, and he was an instant late raising his TK shield. Two bullets got through, catching him in the upper arm and shoulder. Not his gun hand, though, and he was already rolling, coming up with the gun.

His first shot took David Haydon in the face - cocky as always, he had his helmet off, as if this last step of the operation was going to be an easy one - and his second and third sent Thyra Sawyer - Thyra, who had been such an enthusiastic student - reeling back against the wall at the force of the impact against her vest.

Moira really couldn't help the scream that tore out of her throat. Not at the bloody mess he was making of those bastards in front of them but at the sight of him getting shot. Every instinct was screaming at her to get down, to run, but the knowledge that this wasn't really happening rooted her to the spot. This was different from the times she'd found herself shooting in self-defense. A few times at Muir, more recently when the government agents kept trying to come back. The attack on the Mansion when she had taken out the operative by completely destroying his knee caps.

Oh, this was very different.

The other four kept firing, three with their guns, Chepaitis with his bioelectric blasts, and the shield didn't kept those out quite as well, not without more concentration that he had to give with Celia Roslin hammering at his mind as she fired. One slipped through, throwing him back against the wall, and the shield shattered as he lost his concentration. He felt two more impacts - left leg, upper chest - before he lost it and lashed out with his telekinesis, no more thought for the other people in the hotel.

Furniture started to fly, and then the wall of the room was gone, crumbling into rubble. He saw movement in the dust, someone - Konda, with his invulnerability, getting back to his feet and firing, and even as he staggered in the direction of the window, he felt one last fiery impact against his lower back. No pain, though, or none that matched the screaming agony in his mind. Not even when he dove at the window, crashing through the plate glass with only the flimsiest partial TK shield protecting him.

The scream was jerked out of her as she felt the world tilt upside down and then another flash forward hit them both. It was remarkable that even in a dream if you find yourself under water, you'll immediately start to panic. Moira managed to crawl her way up to the top of the pool, gasping for breath. She didn't even stop to realize she wasn't wet, just that she was in the pool and so was Nathan...

Who wasn't hard to find. All you had to do was follow the blood slowly integrating itself with the pool water.

Out, he had to get out, Nathan thought hazily, still in shock from the impact with the water. Four stories. Almost too far a fall, even with his telekinesis. Struggling - his arm and leg wouldn't work right - he swallowed more water than was entirely good for him before he reached the side of the pool and pulled himself out onto solid ground. Something bit into the concrete beside him, then another, and he realized that someone was still up there shooting. Another rush of adrenalin let him drag himself to his feet, and he ran, not letting the one leg buckle beneath him, no matter how much it wanted to.

Somehow, he had held onto his gun. He half-climbed, half-fell over the fence separating the pool from the parking lot, and there was someone parking their car, right there. "Get out!" he snarled, leveling the gun at the woman, who screamed, raising her hands off the steering wheel but not moving, not getting out... "Get the fuck out!" he roared at her. "Leave the keys!"

Moira stopped behind him, eyes wide. With terror, shock, fear. God, no wonder...everything was starting to make so much more sense now. She glanced back and swallowed. They had stopped shooting but she knew they wouldn't stop going after him. She felt herself suddenly in the car next to him and tried to get a grip on herself. Where would he go now?

Nathan backed the car up, nearly hitting the terrified woman he'd just evicted, and smashed through the barrier, out onto the road. He was having trouble focusing, but instinct had kicked in and as he drove the part of his mind that was still functioning properly was automatically making plans. The warehouse on the east side, with his cache - gear and medical supplies, and another car. Then south, maybe. If he could patch himself up enough to get across the Mexican border. If...

As she found herself being tossed around the car, Moira grimaced as she noticed that stupid blurring trick again. "O' bloody 'ell," she moaned, "nay again..." Everything turned colorful for a second and then she found herself in an abandoned warehouse next to Nathan. But she was thankful there were no guns, no soldiers in black, and no cars here. Tentatively, she stepped towards Nathan, wondering what was going to happen next.

Nathan staggered over to the locked doors on the east wall, smashing the bolts telekinetically - the keys were here somewhere, but he wouldn't be back here, so it didn't matter - and then sliding the doors open to reveal his cache. He found the medical supplies, a full field kit, but as he pulled the case off the shelf, his legs started to buckle, and he made it only out of the storeroom before they gave out entirely and he fell.

His hands were slick with blood, one of them wasn't working properly, and he couldn't get the clasps on the medical kit open. Everything kept blurring in his vision, and someone was making noise suddenly, breaking the silence of the warehouse with wrenching, anguished sobs.

Moira couldn't stand it any longer and walked quickly behind him. She didn't know if he would feel this or if he even could but she lowered her hands to his shoulders and fought back her own tears. It was stupid, being stuck in here with no way to help him. Useless until this damnable dream ended.

Focus. He had to focus before he bled to death. He managed to get the case open, find what he needed. His telekinesis would help. If he could control the virus he could control bleeding. Just had to focus. A couple of the bullets had gone through cleanly, but not all of them.

He had to stay alive. Stay alive, so he could kill them. Any of the six who were still alive. Whatever Mistra director had ordered this. "All of them," that someone was gasping out now, between sobs. "All of them, I swear... all of them, they're dead..."

But it wouldn't bring Aliya and Tyler back. Wouldn't bring them back, and he had left them, had left them alone and...

Every window in the warehouse blew out.

When the windows exploded, something jerked Moira out of the dreamscape. Suddenly she was able to move and feel again but she couldn't help a strangled scream as she suddenly jolted up, actually falling out of bed in her panicked attempts to wake up fully. Sobbing, she knelt on the floor and tried to stop from shaking violently. The taste of blood was in her mouth and a part of her realized she had bitten her cheek sometime during the dream.

Screaming... someone was screaming? Nathan was off the bed and backed into the corner before he was even fully awake, that trapped feeling searing along every nerve, his telekinesis rattling the furniture. The room, he thought dizzily, he didn't know this room, where was he?

As Moira spat out a mouthful of blood, she suddenly realized the furniture was starting to shake. Nathan was awake and...she bite out a loud curse as she dropped back into a crouch as a book flew past her head. Despite her own panic, she knew if she didn't get him to calm down her furniture would be worse for wear. "NATHAN!" she gasped, still protecting her head. "Nathan, stop it! Yer awake now! 'Twas a dream!"

Moira's voice pierced the haze, snapping him out of his disoriented panic, and Nathan gasped aloud, jerking back into the corner and then sliding down the wall as his equilibrium deserted him entirely. The pain in his head swelled, red pushing in at the edges of his vision, and those old, long-healed bullet wounds twinged suddenly. He shouldn't have been able to feel them, not with the tiny knives slicing into his mind, but he did.

Not trusting her legs to hold her just yet, Moira slowly sat up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was still bleeding. That must have been one hell of a bite, she thought disjointedly. She let a few seconds tick away before forcing herself to her feet. The room swam around her and she grabbed onto the bed for support as she slowly started making her way around to where Nathan was slumped in a corner. Luckily she had made her way there when her legs gave out and she landed in front of him. "N-nathan?" she whispered, wiping the tears from her face.

Nathan raised his head, blinking at her, trying to focus on her face. He was very cold, suddenly. Everything except the headache seemed very remote. "I s-suppose--" He stopped, swallowed, then went on. "I suppose I should have expected that. Something like that. Tonight."

When she reached for him, Moira noted that she was still shaking violently. "I'm sorry..." she whispered, blinking back the tears and this time swallowing the bit of blood that was still in her mouth.

"It's all right, Moira," he said, shivering a little as she touched him. "Of course it happened. After what I did. I didn't think you would have to see it."

"We were snuggled pretty close," Moira forced out. The link had been wide open, but calm, when they had gone to bed. She frowned, hesitating. Nathan was oddly calm but just not with her right now. Slowly, she eased closer, watching his reaction.

"Right," Nathan said, staring at her, but no longer trying to bring her face back into focus. His eyes just didn't want to work properly. Funny. "It's very wrong, you know," he said as she moved closer to him. "That I make you not sleep. Very wrong. I have to stop doing that."

"Nay, ye 'ave ta stop doin' to yerself!" She reached out a hand and grabbed his chin. "Look at me, Nathan. I dinnae care 'bout me sleepin' 'abits. I'll be fine." Despite the tears and the blood. "Ye 'ave ta stop punishin' yerself!"

"Punishing myself?" he murmured, not understanding. "I'm not, I just..."

"Aye, ye are." Moira's touched gentled and she moved her hand up to his cheek. "Ye are, love. Admit it t' yerself for once."

She didn't want to see him in pain. But it was supposed to hurt, he thought. It could never stop because then he would forget, and he wasn't allowed to forget because they had trusted him and loved him and Aliya hadn't wanted to leave but he had insisted and then he had left them and Tyler hadn't even had the chance to cry out for his mother and Aliya had died in so much pain and it was his fault, HIS FAULT--

Moira took a calming breath and then slapped him. The confused, anger-ridden babble that had leaked down the link stopped. When he spun his head back around to look at her, eyes wide with shock, she gritted her teeth. "Now ye listen t' me an' ye listen well," she started calmly. "Ye once told me tha' I wasnae t' blame fer Kevin's deat', tha' I was allowed ta stop 'urtin' an' get on wit' me life because tha's wha' 'e would 'ave wanted. Stop bein' a 'ypocrite, Nathan. Ye can stop 'urtin' when ye want t'...it'll take time but 'ave ye *tried* since they died?"

He was pushing her away suddenly, rising to his feet, snarling down at her, his voice twisting, breaking with every word. "You tried--you TRIED! You did everything you could for him, you all but killed yourself trying--you were THERE! You were there for him every moment..." His throat tried to close but the eruption was impossible to contain, and he wasn't even really seeing her anymore, just red. "I WASN'T! I was selfish, don't you understand, I was so selfish--it was what I wanted, she didn't want to go, she knew how dangerous it was. But I knew best, didn't I, I fucking knew best... I tore them out of their lives and then I LEFT THEM! I left them and they died, and I wasn't there, I WASN'T THERE!"

"STOP IT!" she snapped, glaring up at him. "Aye, I tried, I was there. But where th' 'ell did it get me? I failed, Nathan, in every way ye did. God, I would 'ave traded me life for tha' boy an' I tried dyin' wit' 'im. Wha' would tha' 'ave solved? Nay a bloody damn thin'! Kevin's *gone* Nathan, an' as much as I mourn 'im every day I know 'e'd want me ta go on! All we're left wit' is a shattered past an' th' fuckin' ashes an' either we fuckin' give up an' die or we go ON." Moira kept glaring at him. "I tried, so 'elp me God. Rory prevented th' first time, ye saved me from th' bottle. An' I'll die meself before I left ye give up."

Nathan stared down at her, his mouth working soundlessly for a moment as the images of her struggling with Rory, crying out for Kevin and trying to reach the flames slammed down the link. She stared up at him, her eyes fierce, but full of tears, and he went back to his knees in front of her, the anger gone, guttering out like a candle flame. He reached out and took her hands in his, still unable to say anything.

"'e knocked me out," she said softly, "an' kept me sedated fer three days afterwards." Moira blinked and some of the tears fell. "Ye know which pat' I took after tha'. But once th' pain o' th' fire left an' when th' drunk 'aze lifted finally, I realized I wanted t' live. I owed 'im tha' much. It still 'urts, Nathan, it always will but it doesnae 'ave t' rule our lives." Slowly, she dropped her head down as she struggled to keep herself together.

"I..." His voice broke, but he forced himself to continue, not letting go of her hands. "It doesn't, it's just... having to see it all again, to help Manuel..."

"I know 'tis 'ard," Moira whispered, head still bowed. The tears were running freely now. "But Nathan...stop, please. I know yer nay doin' it on purpose, at least ta me, but yer lyin' t' yerself."

He let go of her hands and got up. Shirt, he thought disjointedly, he needed to put a shirt on. Still so cold. "I don't know what you mean," he said hoarsely, registering that she hadn't moved from her spot on the floor. He found the shirt he barely remembered taking off earlier and pulled it back on. "I can't control my dreams, Moira," he went on. "And they're not there all the time, it's not like I dream about it every time I close my eyes..." Not anymore.

"Nay, ye dinnae," she replied softly. "But every decision ye've made, for th' most part...ye drive yerself because o' it. Ye...o' 'ell, why do I bother? Ye're nay goin' t' listen t' me." With a sigh that was as tired and bone weary as Moira suddenly found herself, she pushed herself up off the floor. With unsteady legs, she walked passed him slowly to where she'd tossed her own clothing this morning. Shaking fingers found it hard to pull up the nightgown she had been wearing but when that was done she pulled on her bra and hunted for her pants. A walk, despite the late...early?...hour would help her mind, give him time to simmer down, she thought heavily.

Ye drive yerself because o'it. Her words echoed in his mind, and then he could hear himself, too, telling Marie that his whole career as a mercenary had been a seven-year-long expression of anger. Seven years of running, of hating them, of hating himself...

"I killed them," he heard himself say, very calmly.

Moira paused in her search and straightened, not caring about the state of undress. Not with him. "'ow?" she asked, quietly. How can you say that? How can you believe that?

Nathan shrugged, almost indifferently. "It's what kept coming back to me. Not at first." He thought about the dream, about what Moira had obviously seen. "Getting out of there... it was instinct. Training. Escape and evade. I don't think I really started thinking for... days, maybe." He rubbed his eyes, feeling the wetness on his face. "But later," he went on, his voice low. "Over... and over, later. It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been so angry. When I told her... I told her..."

It wouldn't come. He couldn't say it.

"Nathan? Told 'er wha'?"

Nathan rubbed his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. "I told her..." And he still couldn't say it, but he could remember, could hear it all again...

No! Nathan, no, it's too dangerous...

And staying here isn't? Letting them continue to use us until they decide to throw us away isn't?

Nathan... Nathan, I know you're angry, but we have to think about Tyler!

I am thinking about Tyler! Damn it, Aliya!

Let's think this through... talk to the directors, make them see that...

No! Listen to me! I am leaving, and I am taking Tyler with me! Come or stay, it's up to you, but the rest of it is not open for discussion!

Moira hissed slightly as that washed over the link and completely stopped her search for her pants. She took small, slow steps until she was standing in front of him. "Nathan, listen t' me. Ye knew wha' they could do. Ye saw wha' 'appened. Do ye really think, even now, tha' Tyler would 'ave been safer if'n ye 'ad stayed?" She sighed and shivered. She had seen the coldness from the people who had dropped him off on her island the first time.

He looked down at her, the tears trickling freely down his face. "I was so sure," he said, his voice soft, lost. "So sure I could do it..."

Reaching up, she gently wiped some of the tears away. "I know," Moira murmured. "But ye 'ave ta think...would they want ye t' be this way now? All I know is tha' Kevin..." Her voice cracked. "'e 'ated th' smell o' scotch. An' I drowned meself in it. I jus'--none o' them would, ye know?"

It was like something had been ripped out of him, remembering that conversation, allowing Moira to see it. He felt like he had been torn open, and it hurt, but for some reason it was easier to breathe than it had been. Nathan swallowed, enfolding Moira in a trembling, uncertain hug.

"I wish I hadn't done this," he whispered into her hair. Dredging this all back up by choice - no wonder people thought he was a masochist. "Part of me does... I don't regret it, but... but I wish I hadn't..."

She curled herself around him and rubbed his back. Even with the shirt on, she could feel the tension in his muscles. "I know, but it'll be okay. Really." Maybe...maybe in the long run it might help. He'd been holding everything inside for so long and so tightly. Maybe this was what it had to take for him to finally let it go.

Nathan nodded a bit jerkily. "Do you... really have to go for a walk?" he said uncertainly.

Moira pulled back slightly to look up at him. "Nay if'n ye dinnae want me to," she answered, watching him closely.

"Please don't?" he murmured, almost desperately. Alone with his thoughts was not where he wanted to be at the moment. If she was here, if he could watch her and not forget that no matter what had been lost, she was here and a better, more compelling reason than anyone could have logically expected not to get lost in the past...

"All right, I willnae," Moira assured him and then sagged against him slightly, yawning heavily. "Sleep...or at least layin' down might be th' best thin' for us." She winced as she moved, knowing that she'd be sporting bruises from the fall and her hand ached from where she had hit him. She was also debating trying to figure out how to go get a shirt to put on at least but something was telling her to go lay down before she fell down.

"I love you," Nathan said almost fearfully as they went back to the bed. He didn't break physical contact with her for an instant, and only let himself begin to relax as she settled down in his arms, resting her head against his chest. "All of this... you know it doesn't change anything, right?"

She paused from bringing up the blanket to cover them. "I love ye, t', Nathan," she responded, reaching up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "An' I know...there's nothin' out there tha' can change tha'."

Nathan swallowed, but then closed his eyes and just held on.