Moira and Nathan, Saturday afternoon to early evening

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After his session with Jack, Nathan follows doctor's orders and takes Moira somewhere fun - a tango lesson and dinner at a tapas bar. Nathan is a little too perky and Moira finds it a little unsettling, but in general, they have quite a good time. Unfortunately, when they return to the mansion, Nathan finds Angie's email about his role (in very ominous garb) in one of her dreams and his and Moira's quite-good afternoon comes crashing down around their ears.



This had been one of his stranger ideas, Nathan said, unable to help a smile at the way Moira's eyes were sparkling as she leaned into him. He hadn't known she knew how to tango. #Enjoying yourself?# he asked, across the link since it was generally good etiquette not to talk that much on the dance floor. And the studio was fairly crowded - apparently this was a popular place to go on a Saturday afternoon.

Moira beamed at him as she followed his lead, thoroughly enjoying the dance lesson. #O' course I am, ye know 'ow much I love ta dance,# she sent back, still smiling as she allowed him to behind her almost to the floor. She caught his thought on her dancing and laughed mentally. #Love, me mum was big on sendin' me ta any an' all dance classes while she was alive.#

Nathan's smile grew. #Woman of many talents, you are,# he said, deftly navigating the crowded dance floor. His leg was maybe going to protest a little once all was said and done here, but this was precisely what he'd needed after that session with Jack: physical activity and her. Well, there was maybe one form of physical activity that was even better than the tango, but there'd be plenty of time for that later.

She blinked and then shook her head as they danced around a much younger, much more awkward looking couple. #Yer unbelievable,# Moira sent, teasing.

#I'm male. And I'm under therapist's orders to have a good time, so I'm pulling out all the tops.# He gave her his best endearing grin and tossed in a few embellishments to their current series of steps. She followed the lead flawlessly. #And I actually learned to dance the tango in Argentina, if you can believe that.#

#Undercover work?# More teasing, they were both in a good mood.

#Mm-hmm. Haven't you figured out yet that undercover work is where I learned all the really fun stuff I know?# he shot back merrily.

#So there are more surprises down th' road?# she mused.

#Oh, lots. Think I'm going to let you get bored with me?# He was grinning like an idiot, he knew. But she looked entirely too gorgeous in the dress she had insisted on buying when he'd made this suggestion for an afternoon activity. #I'll dole them out one by one and leave you constantly off-balance. Sound good?#

When he spun her around, the dress moved rather nicely against the back of her legs. #But luv, everytime ye do tha' it means I 'ave ta brin' out a new picture o' me from th' old days.# Her mind went back to Nathan seeing the present Amanda had gotten her, the old picture of her in leather in a nice frame.

#Then we both have fun,# Nathan sent back enthusiastically. #Sounds like a stellar plan to me. Just stellar.# And he was beginning to feel almost giddy, which was a little odd, but he wasn't about to complain. Not after how hard the session with Jack--hell, how hard the last several days in general had been.

The link shuddered slightly and Moira nearly stumbled as it reverberated through her mind. Frowning as Nathan righted her and they kept dancing, she stared up at him. #Nathan, wha's wron'?# she sent. #Yer...all over th' place in me 'ead...#

#I'm just happy,# he sent back determinedly. #Aren't you? Isn't this fun?# He quite unashamedly pulled out the puppy-dog eyes, which were probably spoiled a bit by the grin he couldn't banish.

#Aye, I'm 'avin' fun but th' link is all...wobbly, cannae ye feel it?# Determined, she ignored the puppy-dog eyes.

#Didn't sleep last night, remember?# he sent back carelessly, guiding them unerringly around another pair of dancers. #Too busy worrying about Dom... tell me you were serious about taking her over your knee? I'd really like to see that.#

An eyebrow raised sharply. #Maybe,# Moira sent back, a little terse. Nathan's thoughts that were creeping down the link were a little hard to understand, too chaotic, really. #Nathan, damn it, concentrate on th' link...tell me if somethin's wron'.#

Keeping up the dance without missing a beat, Nathan concentrated for a moment on the link. Nothing seemed to be wrong with it in a structural sense, and Moira's thoughts and presence were perfectly clear to him. #I don't think so,# he sent back blithely. #Must be me. Don't worry, okay? I'm fine. I feel good. Energetic.#

#...manic, maybe, jus' a wee bit?# She sent back, feeling a little dizzy because Nathan had managed to speed up the pace a little.

Nathan sensed her discomfort and guided them immediately off the dance floor. He shook his head as she continued to give him a questioning look. "I don't think so," he said a bit breathlessly, still holding onto her in case she wasn't quite steady on her feet as they went over to some empty chairs. "Is it really wrong to want to... throw myself into something like this? Jack said..." He paused, recalling that what Jack had actually said was just to take Moira someplace fun.

"Nay, 'tis not. But Nathan..." Moira shook her head as he lowered her into one of the chairs. She took his hands as he knelt in front of her and sighed. "Nathan, throwin' yerself inta somethin' is one thin'. But this jus' feels...weird. Up 'ere." A head tilt followed that sentance.

Nathan frowned, not sure what to say. He rose, then sat down in the chair next to hers, not letting go of her hands as he moved. "I wonder if something's changed," he said after a moment. "After Tuesday..." Moira stared at him, clearly worried, and he managed to shrug. #Major emotional pressure is what cracked my conditioning in the first place,# he pointed out, switching back to telepathy.

Gently, she rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. #I dinnae know. It *may* jus' be tha' yer bloody stressed every day an' th' first chance ye get, ye jus'...lose yerself. Nay an unusual reaction but sometimes nay a good one, either.#

#Jack said that waiting for Mistra to strike was driving me crazy,# Nathan said, and blinked, a little more disturbed by the implications that he had been back in the office. Of course, he'd been a bit distracted by the broken desk and all at at the time... #You don't think it is, do you?# he asked her, waiting a bit anxiously for her response.

Smiling a little, Moira tugged one of her hands free and touched his cheek. #Nay, love. Nay in th' true sense o' crazy. Yer on edge. Paranoid, nay tha' I can blame ye. An' yer under a considerable amount o' stress. But yer nay insane.#

"Oh, good," he said, striving for a bantering tone, taking her hand and kissing it. "Because I do hate straitjackets. Although I can do the Houdini thing if I have to, and I don't mean telekinetically."

***

After the class had ended and Moira had convinced Nathan to stop *trying* so hard to have fun and to simply enjoy it, they wandered around. Food was the main thing on their mind as they tried to forget about their worries. So when Nathan spotted a little tapas bar resturant tucked into a cute little area of the city, she had been game to try it.

But now she was openly staring at Nathan as he decided that, yes, the little pickles on cocktail sticks were the best thing in the world. Well, maybe not to eat. "Sweetie, ye've been playin' wit' tha' for five minutes," she pointed out, watching as he discretly used his telekensis to have them doing a little dance around his plate. Thank God, she thought, they were in the corner.

"But they've been stifled little pickles," he said brightly. "They're yearning to live free."

Trying so hard not to laugh, she shook her head. "Ye're supposed ta *eat* them nay put on a son' an' dance number."

"I would feel downright cannibalistic. See, they've got their own little personalities and all...."

"Nathan, if ye dinnae stop playin' wit' yer food, I'm goin' ta take it away from ye an' eat it myself." A peal of laughter escaped her at the affronted look he shot her and especially when he held the pickles close to his chest.

"You have plenty of tapas yourself," he said disapprovingly. "And you're hoarding all the cheese." He snatched a cube of Manchego with his telekinesis and grabbed it out of the air, popping it into his mouth quickly. "Mmm," he said. "See? Eating."

"Well, 'ave ye noticed tha' ye've piled all th' pickles near yer plate?" she pointed out sweetly, eating some of the ham that was next to the cheese.

He levitated the pickles back to the tray at the center of the table, grimacing cheerfully at her and snatching a piece of chorizo. "I think that's squid," he said, pointing, then picking up his glass of water and taking a long sip. The chorizo was a bit spicier than he'd expected. "I don't think I'm in the mood for squid. Too chewy."

"I, on th' other 'and, am always in th' mood for squid," Moira said, beaming. When you grow up on an island, even if it is a British one, you learn to like seafood. "Place is lovely."

"It is, isn't it? Just struck me as something we might want to try." He grinned a bit foolishly at her. "When your appetite is on the puny side, eating small portions is a possible solution. Or so someone keeps telling me."

"Smart person," she retorted, picking up a bit of cheese and holding it near his mouth.

"Tease," he scolded, leaning forward and taking the cheese. "Whoa, that's strong," he said, and took another sip of water. "A little more aged, I think."

"Well, they always say tha' th' older somethin' gets, th' better an' stronger th' kick," was Moira's reply, grinning as Nathan blinked at her over his water glass.

"You have a very dirty mind, dear."

"Oh, look who's talkin'."

***

They had made good time getting back to the mansion, after their relatively early dinner, and Nathan sat down at the desk to check his email as Moira hustled around putting away some of the things she'd bought - he had insisted she go shopping or something during his session with Jack, and she had done so quite enthusiastically. He sorted through a couple of emails that included questions on the Mandarin exercises, telling himself he'd answer them first thing in the morning. Then he hit one from Angie. "Doug?" he muttered in concern, opening it and frowning as he'd read. "Moira, does Doug generally get headaches when he uses his powers to hack?"

Moira paused as she put away some new shirts and thought. "I dinnae know." She smiled wryly. "I think 'e would tend ta keep th' 'ackin' under radar. But I *do* remember 'im comin' down wit' a massive 'eadache a while back but nay from wha' 'e was doin'."

Nathan hrrmed, concerned. But it had been the only email from Angie, and no one had accosted them with bad news upon their return, so he was hoping that Doug's headache had been a transient thing. He'd have to go check on him this evening, make sure...

He focused on the email again, glancing up at the header to see what nickname she'd picked for him this time. His eyes widened. "Leonidas?" he muttered blankly. "What the..." He scanned down the email, and the instant his eyes hit Angie's PS, the blood in his veins turned to ice.

Is there any particular reason I might have had odd dreams of you in Spartan military armor?

Instinct took over and he was pushing himself back away from the desk, the chair toppling over backwards as he propelled himself almost to the center of the room, as if putting physical distance between himself and the line of text on the screen would do any good, or change what it said...

"Nathan?!" Dropping the last shirt on the floor, Moira rushed to his side. "Wha's wron'?" Grabbing his arm, afraid he'd faint, she tried to lead him over to the couch. "Is somethin' wron' wit' Doug? Nathan, wha' is it?"

Her touch felt almost like a physical blow and he shuddered, trying not to pull away. "Not Doug," he barely managed, letting her lead him to the couch. His heart was racing, adrenalin blasting through him, and he was holding onto his telekinesis for dear life. "Angie... Angie saw something..."

Feeling him start to slip as he sat on the couch, she took his face in her hands and made him look at her. "Focus, Nathan. Come on, gather yer concentration like ye practised. Aye, tha's it. Keep lookin' at me. Now, wha' did Angie see?"

Concentrate. Patterns in his mind, the exercises she had taught him, the ones Askani had tried to introduce to him, anything and everything to make sure he did not lose control. Hyperventilating was also definitely out. "Me," he said finally, his voice still shaky but a little stronger. "She saw me. In one of her dreams. In Spartan armor... in Spartan armor, and I never told her about the Spartan stuff, Moira..."

"Shhh, shhh, breat'. There ye go." Worry lines appeared around her eyes and mouth but Moira stayed calm. For the second time that week, she gently pressed against the link to send more things than she normally did down it--this time calming thoughts and memories, trying to get him to relax. Relaxing would help him focus and he'd be less likely to lose control. "Angie 'as a ratio, love...some o' th' thin's she see's dinnae come true." She frowned, she wouldn't lie to him. "But...some do..."

"I know. I know that... we talk about her precog, remember?" He took a deeper breath, the air rattling in his lungs. The blind panic was fading, thankfully. But his hands were shaking, and he suspected it would be a while before they stopped. He focused on Moira's face, on breathing. "Damn. Well, I suppose I was due, wasn't I?" He managed a wild, twisted smile. "We had too good an afternoon."

"Thin's dinnae 'appen jus' because we enjoyed ourselves." She smoothed down his hair. "It may be nothin' or it may be somethin'...ye goin' ta tell Charles?"

Bella gave a questioning chirp from her cage, and Nathan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I probably should. I'll... I'll write Angie back. Tell her if she's got any more details..."

"Charles will keep everyone on their toes makin' sure everythin's safe," Moira murmured, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Damn them, Nathan thought almost desolately. "They couldn't just stay in my dreams?" he muttered. "They have to get into hers?"

"At th' verra least, ye've got some warnin' now." Her eyes looked sad and tired again and she sighed. "Angie'll be fine, I'll keep an eye on 'er."

"I hate this," Nathan whispered bitterly. Hated them, hated that they could reach into this place and touch Angie, touch Moira, touch anyone or anything. Hated himself, for being the vehicle...

"Dinnae, please," Moira asked, getting closer and pulling him into a tight hug. Closing her eyes tight, she layed her head on the top of his. "'Tis nay yer fault, Nathan."

"Fault doesn't change anything," he said unevenly, but clung tightly to her. "They're here because I'm here... if they come, they come because I'm here..."

"Nathan, listen ta me. If they come, they come...they'll be dealt wit'." Blinking back tears, she switched to using the link. #Ta me, yer wort' tha' risk...I wouldnae want ye anywhere else.#

Nathan held her tightly and tried not to think.