xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, Wednesday night (Reply)

Killing time while waiting for news from Muir, Moira practices her dart-throwing skills. Nathan reads another textbook. They talk about teaching, about what Moira wants to do with the Center, and seizing the day.

Moira frowned and weighed the dart thoughtfully in her hand. It was a little off balance but it would have to do until she got herself a real dart set again. With Sarah currently gone from the Mansion, she didn't think there'd be any trouble in her borrowing the dart board she had gotten the younger woman. Distraction had been a necessary creature earlier and this was a perfect way to get some energy out.

Carefully, she balanced the dart in her hand and aimed at the board. It didn't take her long to get ready and Moira released it after a gentle pull back. She grimaced when it *just* missed the damned bullseye and she sighed. Out of practise with unsteady darts. At least it meant she was throwing sharp pointy objects at something while she waited for a call to Muir.

"You're losing your touch, MacTaggart," Nathan quipped from where he was sprawled on the couch, reading through his latest textbook candidate. Overly general, this one. Surely there had to be a happy medium somewhere. "Want me to remind you how it's done?"

An eyebrow raised to meet her hairline. "Want me t' remind ye 'ow much it 'urts bein' 'it wit' one o' these?" she asked, sweetly. "But fine, if'n ye think ye can do better than a Scot, by all means try."

He waved a hand at her, grinning. "Just teasing," he said. "Besides, I'm liking the couch over here. Very comfy." He was trying very hard to avoid having to take any of those painkillers, and a minimum of moving around was sort of essential to that.

The look she shot him was just slightly smug but she laughed and put down the other darts for now. "Ye look like yer 'avin' more success wit' wha' yer doin' than I am wit' this."

"Well, it's not bad," he said, eyeing the textbook, somewhat surprised to notice that he'd made it three quarters of the way through already. "Still not quite what I want, though. Maybe I shouldn't be bothering with a textbook..."

Moira shrugged and bent to pick up a run away dart. Thankfully, Nathan hadn't been there to see her bounce one off the metal ring. So out of practise an American could kick her ass. "Ye really dinnae 'ave ta 'ave one, Nathan. Some courses dinnae depend on them. An' I recall some o' me college courses used book books, nay text books. Amazin' wha' ye can get away wit' inside th' walls o' a classroom."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of depending on someone else's interpretation for the bread-and-butter of the course material, too," Nathan confided, closing the book. "I'd rather have them make their own from the raw material."

Darts collected, Moira shoved them all in the bulls eye and then made her way over to Nathan. "Ye've got a lot o' room t' move in," she reminded him and then grinned. "Nay as much as us science types go. But even then, some o' it depends on wha' theory ye 'appen ta buy int'. God forbid anyone agrees wit' each other."

He grinned a little sheepishly at her. "I'm... really liking this, Moira."

"I'd laugh but 'tis really cute." With a sigh, she settled herself on the floor in front of the couch he was sprawled on. "I'm glad, really...I like ta see ye excited 'bout somethin' an' this is jus' a wee less dangerous than wha' ye were doin' before."

"Let's reserve judgement on that until I've actually been in a classroom," he said with a chuckle.

"Ye 'ave telekinesis, ye'll be *fine*. Really."

He put on his best forbidding face. "Pop quizzes every week and negative participation marks for the people who sit there like lumps on logs. What do you think?" he inquired coolly.

Moira smothered a giggle. "O', ye'll be a right terror, ye will be."

"I hope so. Otherwise, what fun will this be?" He sat up carefully, not letting himself wince, flinch, or curse a blue streak, although the latter in particular was very tempting. "So do you teach anything during the summers?" he asked, curious.

"Ye know, I really 'ave nay clue. If they want me t', I guess I could." Moira shrugged and frowned. "I'm nay...all that much in a 'urry ta be 'eadin' back to Muir full time..."

Nathan smiled suddenly. "Making progress, are we? I didn't catch a single guilty thought when you said that."

Grumbling a little bit, she stuck her tongue out at him. "Maybe jus' a wee bit. Wait until I tell Rory, *then* th' guilt'll 'it." Moira suddenly looked uncomfortable. "When I go back ta Muir full time, I dinnae want t' go back t' work all th' time. Ye know?"

He touched the link in the telepathic equivalent of a gentle caress. "If you mean that you want to mend your workaholic ways... well, I would caper, but I don't want to wind up on the floor."

She couldn't help but smile as she touched the link in response. "Caper. I'll put ye on th' floor meself. I like workin', I like some o' th' stress. 'Tis jus' tha' Muir's well taken care o' an' I want it t' be 'ome again, nay me work place."

"I understand," Nathan said, his eyes still locked on hers. The link was wide open, everything there for him to read. "You want more happy memories associated with Muir. Not just the work and the stress and the past..."

Moira nodded slowly and then sighed. She turned slightly so that she could put her head in his lap. A little awkward but it was comfortable enough to make it worth the slightly cramped neck. "Aye, I do. I never really did anythin' ta liven th' place up after me da died. So busy wit' work. Even when I 'ad kids in me Center, I jus' concentrated on th' labs an' their rooms. I tended t' forget about, o', th' rest o' th' castle. Jus' want some better memories there."

He played idly with her hair, feeling the wistfulness on the link. "We'll have to see what we can do about that," he murmured.

Some of the tension left her shoulders as Moira relaxed under the soothing feeling of Nathan running his hand through her hair. "I guess I do feel slightly guilty 'bout it," she murmured, closing her eyes. "I mean, th' Center 'as ta stay open but...I 'ate bein' so damned torn."

"I know," he said softly. "Wish I had an answer for you."

"Jus' make sure I dinnae try an' use Rory's leg against 'im when I tell 'im?" Moira snorted softly. "'e takes news so bloody well, 'e does." She winced, though, as she remembered their last conversation. He hadn't exactly been subtle about anything.

"Rory needs to understand that things change," Nathan said, unable to help a flash of annoyance. "He's got no business treating you like Old Faithful."

"I dinnae know wha' 'e expected," Moira admitted. "Rory was there for me but sometimes nay really. Especially th' early years. Seemed like 'e wanted me t' cope 'owever I could an' never really tried t' curb th' drinkin'." She sighed. "Over ten years an' nay a damned word. But now? O' now 'e speaks up."

"He thought he had all the time in the world," Nathan said, still stroking her hair. It seemed to be doing good things to her mood. "I can sympathize, you know."

"Hmm?" She looked up at him in just a little bit of confusion.

He gave her a smile tinged with sadness. "If all of this - these damned visions, I mean - has taught me anything, it's that sometimes tomorrow doesn't come. Sometimes you can't count on another chance. If you don't seize the day you might not get another opportunity."

With a small noise, Moira pushed herself up off the floor and nudged her way onto the couch. She smiled back at him softly as she wrapped her arms around him, gently, as she settled on the edge of the couch. "I'm glad...well, nay *glad* per say, ye know wha' I mean. Can ye imagine if ye 'adnae 'ad ta call me for 'elp? 'ow much longer it would 'ave taken our sorry asses t' realize wha' was right in front o' us?"

Nathan smiled as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Don't want to imagine," he said softly. "What is, is, and I--" The words caught in his throat as lights flickered in his peripheral vision. For a moment, his mind was awash with images of burning cities and clashing armies, but he pushed them away with a sudden surge of anger-fueled strength. He felt that snap again, as if a dislocated limb had just been put back in place, and then there were four more little mirrors on his beach mindscape. There was a regular forest of them by now.

"Nathan?" Moira murmured, concerned. She tightened her grip around him, just a little but not enough to cause him pain. She'd felt the link tremble and then stabilize and she watched for his reaction.

He took a deep breath, then managed to smile down at her. "I'm okay," he said, and it was mostly the truth. He felt a little dizzy, but it wasn't bad. "I'd say it was comforting that some things were constant, but, well..."

"This isnae th' most comfortin' thin' in the world." With a sigh, Moira kissed him lightly. "Gettin' better, though?"

Nathan nodded. "Getting better," he assured her.

"Still, I dinnae want ye overdoin' it," Moira warned, snuggling close. "I'm glad ye've been listenin' ta us thus far...except for th' pain pills." She quirked an eyebrow at him and gave him the "I know you've been avoiding them" look. "Though if ye promise ta keep restin', I may not try ta drug yer coffee."

"I'm not being stubborn just for the sake of being stubborn," he told her, his mouth twitching. "Just... had enough of being drugged for a while, I think."

"Nathan, yer always stubborn for stubborn's sake. This time ye jus' 'ave a good reason t' be."