Moira and Nathan

[x-mactaggart.livejournal.com]

Moira waits for Nathan to wake up, nursing one hell of a concussion headache. Nathan does, kind of, but is mostly too groggy to talk. Moira soothes.



Moira sat curled up in a chair next to where Nathan lay, asleep. The decision had been made to keep him unconscious until some of his stats raised, let his body heal when he couldn't move too much. Her head throbbed in time with the monitor's around her and she lowered it, not wanting to look at the lights around them. Rory had been kind enough to dim them but she knew he couldn't afford to turn them all out for her comfort.

With a sigh, she reached over and curled her hand around Nathan's, trying to put some warmth back into it. She had made it through the surgery for Nathan yesterday, but barely. There was a vague memory of yanking off scrubs, stumbling into the waiting room only to faint. Luckily, Theo had been close by or it might have ended up in another head injury for her.

It felt like the link shifted a little and she cracked open an eye. The link had been slightly...active since all this had gone down. She shrugged, figuring it was something to do with what Nathan had recently gone through. She knew it wasn't dangerous, wasn't sure it was though, but figured she and Nathan could talk about this later. Much later.

He wasn't alone. He would never be alone again, Nathan realized, floating amid the stars, the Askani whispering comfortingly to him. A few had been angry at first, shouting at him for nearly getting himself killed, but they had been outvoted and silence. Askani had stayed with him for quite some time, reassuring him that Moira was all right, that none of the others were badly injured. How she had known that, he wasn't sure, unless she had been borrowing his telepathy again and he didn't really want to know if that was the case.

But there was someone else there, too, someone who wasn't just an echo in his memory. He concentrated on the impression of presence, on the feeling of warmth. #Moira?# he murmured as he floated. #Moira... #

She couldn't help but whimper as she felt Nathan use the link. Her head screamed in pain and she winced, shaking it slightly as if that would help clear it. "Aye, Nathan," Moira murmured, tucking his hand firmly into hers. They had lessened the medicine keeping him asleep so she had expected him to start stiring soon. She watched, frowning a little bit, as he struggled to wake up. "Yer all right."

Squeezing his hand. Someone was squeezing his hand, and it brought him back to at least a partial awareness of his body. Everything felt so heavy. There was pain there, but distant, as if wrapped in layer after layer of cotton. His eyes still closed - his eyelids were the heaviest of all - Nathan tried to say her name aloud, wanting to hear her voice. But there was something covering his face, and he couldn't even lift his hand to try and dislodge it...

The movement to the mask made her realize he probably didn't need it. At least for right now. Moira reached over and gently slipped it off, raising his head slightly with shaking hands so she didn't have to tug on the elastic band. She set it aside, near by, just in case he needed it again. From the way things were going, it didn't look like he would but she didn't want to play that particular game of chance.

"'ey," she murmured, touching his cheek gently.

But as he got more awake, the layers of cotton separating him from the pain seemed to draw back, one by one, and what came out when he was free to talk was halfway between a croak and a whimper.

"Easy." Feeling a flash of deja vu, Moira reached over and grabbed the sponge with drinkable water and held it up to his mouth. The oxygen mask would have completely dried him out and so Rory had planned accordingly. After a few seconds, she stopped. "Better?"

He swallowed, then concentrated on opening his eyes. They were still so heavy, and they felt stuck together, as if they had been closed for days... and that was a bad thought, he told himself dimly. Moira was leaning over him, a red-haired blur, and he blinked futilely at her.

"You... okay?" he managed finally, in a cracked whisper.

"I'm alive," she responded, cracking a small smile. "Beyond tha', me 'ead feels like 'tis goin' ta cave in on itself. Ye saved me from most o' th' blast, though." She ran her hand over his cheek again, feeling a surge of guilt. If he hadn't concentrated so much on putting that much power in that shield, he might not be in the condition he was currently in.

"No..." he murmured, his voice breaking. "No... guilt, Moira. No guilt." Nathan tried to move his head, and froze, another, louder whimper tearing itself free from his throat as sick pain washed through his skull and his shoulder protested even that tiny, aborted movement.

"Shhh, dinnae try ta move much, love," Moira told him. "Ye were shot up pretty badly. Rory an' I were in surgery wit' yer leg for a good while. Scared th' life out o' me but I knew ye'd make it through this."

"Hurts..." he muttered, his eyes trying to drift shut again.

Moira nodded and reached over, turning the drip with the medicine up a notch or two. "I know, but it'll go away, I promise," she assured him, reaching over to kiss him on the cheek. Careful of both her and his headwounds.

"Love..." Nathan whispered as the pain started to dwindle into the distance again. "Love you..."

"Love ye, t'," she choked out, closing her eyes again, against her own pain and the fear she had felt since this whole thing had started.