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[x-mactaggart.livejournal.com]

When Nathan receives an e-mail that could or could not be a trap, he and Moira discuss what it could mean. And that he has to go check it out. Moira worries, Nathan points out that anything could happen (including being flattened by a car), and Moira resigns herself to having to wait again.



Nathan scanned the email for perhaps the thirtieth time, willing there to be something, anything between the lines that told him whether this was what it seemed or just a very clever attempt at a trap. Nothing jumped out at him, though, and he finally leaned back away from the computer with a sigh, slouching in Moira's desk chair.

From the bed, where she laid in a boneless sprawl as she idly went through grading papers, Moira raised an eyebrow at him. "Somethin' eatin' ye, Nathan?" she asked, grateful for the diversion. Anything was better than eyeing the clock, then the phone and then the clock again.

Nathan bit his lip, then got up, bringing the laptop with him, the email still on the screen. "Here," he said, setting the computer on the bed between them as he sat down. "Take a look at this," he said, eyeing her a bit warily, not sure what her reaction would be.

She eased herself up on one elbow to get a better look at the computer screen, blinked and read the e-mail slowly. "Wha' th' bloody 'ell is tha' supposed ta mean?" Moira asked, looking up at Nathan in confusion.

"Mistra code phrases," Nathan said slowly, still watching her. "'Leonidas' is basely a code-red word, to tell you that whatever's going on is critical. The quote from Alcman..." He paused, smiling very faintly. "Some of us got a little subversive at one point and came up with a code of our. That little piece of poetry means that whoever sent this email is doing something the directors wouldn't approve of and knows it."

"Mistra." Moira sat up quickly and frowned at the e-mail. "Ye think 'tis a trap?" Worry started to seep into her voice. With her mind on Nathan and Muir, she hadn't really been able to give the Mistra threat a second thought. Until now.

"I think it's a possibility," he said calmly. "Also may be someone genuinely wanting to help me. I'm really not sure."

"So. Wha' are ye goin' t' do about it?" Ignore it, she hoped, fingers twitching slightly in the rumbled comforter.

Nathan laughed a bit wearily. "I'm going to go, Moira. Catch 'M's' wording? Information I need?" He shrugged, the gesture far more diffident than he felt. "I can't afford to pass up the chance just because it might blow up in my face."

"But wha' if *this* blows up in yer face?" Moira demanded, gesturing at the laptop. "Wha' if it 'tis a trap?"

His lips curved in a wintry smile. "Then it blows up in their faces, too."

There wasn't a reply for a few moments as she stared down at the e-mail again, hand tightening on the comforter. "An' I fully expect tha' yer plannin' on goin' alone, aye?" she asked, quietly, not looking at him.

"I haven't decided yet," Nathan temporized. "Was considering whether or not to ask Pete to play backup..."

"Aye, tha' may...be a verra good idea," she replied evenly. "I dinnae think 'e'd say nay an' afterwards ye two could go an' get those drinks ye were promisin' each other." Moira offered him a wobbly smile. "Um...if ye do drink a whole lot? Try t' block th' link?" An unusual request, she knew, but with all the stresses the last thing she needed would be something that dealt with drinking coming down the link towards her.

"Oh, trust me. No intention of drinking anything on this trip. At all." Nathan tilted his head, regarding her measuringly. "I do intend to check the area before I walk into that bar," he pointed out. "I know what to look for, Moira. It's not as if they haven't set me up before." He laughed again, but it came out sounding rather--unpleasant. "The trap closed on me the last time, too. But I was the only one who walked away in one piece."

She couldn't help a small shudder at that and she bit her lip. "I know. 'Tis--I'm jus' bloody worried! I mean, wha' if ye 'ave a bad vision durin' this an' 'tis a trap? Pete can only do so much. An' I know before even askin' or ye even tellin' me, tha' ye'll nay let me probably be even in th' damned city t' give ye a 'and if one bowls ye over!"

"The visions are getting much better," Nathan said steadily, very carefully not pointing out that it would be a cold day in hell before he voluntarily took her to a meeting with someone from Mistra. "And let's not play 'what if', okay? If it is a trap, they could have a foolproof plan to take me out that would have worked even if I was at the top of my game. I could also get hit by a car on the way there. I couldn't remove all the potential risks if I went in there with the whole Pack for backup."

"An' wha' if ye get 'it by a...okay, I'll stop now. Really." With a sigh, Moira flopped back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "I know tha'. Or at least th' logical part o' me knows tha'. Th' rather unlogical part, which I try t' keep stuffed in a wee box somewhere in me 'ead is snifflin' 'bout empty beds an' 'avin' somethin' else ta sit around an' nay bein' able t' do anythin' but wait an' worry."

Softening a little, Nathan reached out and took her hand. "I wouldn't have picked this weekend to go away on you, you know. I should be back by Saturday afternoon."

Grumping a little, she nonetheless curled her hand around his. "Are ye goin' ta be keepin' th' link open?" Moira asked quietly, still staring up at the ceiling.

"Unless something comes up and I need to shield really tightly, yeah."

"I'm still goin' ta worry."

He bent over and kissed her. "You don't hear me telling the wind not to blow, do you?" he murmured.