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[x-mactaggart.livejournal.com]

Another training session for Nathan, though this one's outside. Moira wants a sandcastle, so a sandcastle she gets. And then they decide to push his power one step further and she gets to keep the results, she always did like figurines.



"Nathan, stop bellyachin'," Moira chided, shifting slightly in the lawn chair she had borrowed from the mansion. Lowering her sunglasses, she looked sideways and smiled. "Yer th' one who wanted ta practice today, need I remind ye?" Still, she couldn't help but laugh mentally at the sight of Nathan sitting in the sand at the edge of the lake, glowering at her. "Sand's th' perfect thin' ta 'elp ye work wit' yer telekinesis, even if it 'tis wet."

"Evil woman," Nathan muttered. It was wet. And he'd never particularly liked wet sand, not after that unfortunate incident in the Bahamas... he cut that thought off prudently and continued to glower at Moira. "So what pattern am I doing today?" he asked, straining a little as he pulled grains of sand upwards, into spirals that moved around him.

"Sandcastles."

He looked at her blankly for a moment, then groaned as an image slipped down from her end of the link. "You want the Taj Mahal?" Moira laughed aloud, and he made an irritated face at her. "Why not Edinburgh Castle or something?"

Rolling over onto her side in the chair, she grinned at him. "Ye wanted ta try somethin' difficult," Moira crooned at him, snickering at the end. "Wha', is th' Taj Mahal nay 'ard enough for ye? Or are ye a wee bit on th' rusty side, love?"

"I am not rusty," he said with great dignity, letting the sand around him fall. "The Taj Mahal it is." He glanced at a relatively flat part of the beach, working on getting his visualization set in his head. "What skill is this supposed to be practicing again?"

"Visualization for a start. I want ta make sure ye can control yer...well, control over th' virus. Th' more ye can visualize, th' better I say." Sitting up, Moira swung her legs over the side of the chair and buried her toes in the sand. "Also, sometimes ye dinnae 'ave a lot o' choices from wha's around ye. I *know* ye dinnae care for wet sand an' tha's exactly why I picked it."

"You're too practical-minded sometimes," Nathan said with a snort, closing his eyes and mulling over the image in his head. He'd only seen the Taj Mahal once or twice in person, but he had seen plenty of pictures. The dome, the minarets, they were all clear in his mind...

"Am I really?" she murmured, watching in awe as the sand particles did little dances as Nathan manipulated them. Slowly, the bottom of the sandcastle Taj Mahal started to form, almost gracefully. "Wha' if I 'ad said I also wanted ye ta make me a sandcastle?"

"Well, that would have been different," Nathan murmured, focusing on the image. Work from the ground up, he told himself. "Then you would have been being practical-minded and whimsical at the same time, and I would have had to confess that I found the combination almost unbearably sexy."

Laughing, Moira continued to watch him work, pleased with the progress. For a while, she had been worried that their relationship would get in the way of her training him but they had been at *this* part of their relationship longer than being a couple and it felt almost natural to slip back into it. "I'll 'ave ta remember tha'. Especially since ye get this cute wrinkle in yer forehead when ye're tryin' really, really 'ard an' ye want it ta come out perfect."

"I'm adding the interior detail, too," he confessed. "I'll have to take off the dome after it's done and show you."

"I *am* impressed." That had been unexpected but her smile grew at the thought. "Like a doll 'ouse..."

Nathan opened his eyes as he completed the tips of the minarets. He regarded the sand sculpture critically, making some more adjustments, both inside and out. He'd missed a few details, and he was having to hold onto it all rather carefully - with an almost-completely-accurate interior, there wasn't enough support to hold up the outside securely.

Standing, Moira cautiously walked around him and the castle, not minding that to do this she found herself ankle deep in the lake water at one point. "Nathan, tha's bloody impressive," she breathed, shocked by the amount of detail that he had put into it. In the back of her mind, an idea was starting to take fruit but she ignored it to concentrate on the castle.

"Harder than I thought," Nathan muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I think... I think I'm manipulating each grain of sand individually. I can see them... or feel them, maybe that's the word."

"Good, verra good! Tha's wha' I wanted ta 'appen. Or at least, was 'opin' it would. Bein' able ta see, or feel, at this level is exactly wha' should be 'appenin'." Slowly she came back around, close to the chair. "Nathan, do ye trust me judgment?"

"Always," Nathan said firmly, but didn't dare take his eyes off the sandcastle to look at her.

"I think I picked sand," Moira started slowly, "because it would be th' easiest for another experiment. Nathan, can ye try ta use yer powers ta turn th' castle ta glass?"

Nathan stiffened a little where he sat. "I... don't know," he said uncertainly, unable to restrain the nervous thoughts that flickered along the link. "That's... I think it's a few steps below even what I'm seeing now..."

"Relax," she soothed but refrained herself from using the link. She really couldn't help beyond coaching him, she wouldn't be able to help him in other situations. "Ye said ye wanted ta try an' now's a good time as any. Jus' concentrate on th' castle an' th' sand but also calm yerself an' try an' remember wha' 'appened th' last few times."

Concentrate. Be calm. Nathan stared at the sandcastle, breathing deeply. "Why am I thinking of that poem?" he murmured. He sensed, rather than saw Moira's questioning look. "The one by William Blake. 'To see the world in a grain of sand...'"

"...'An' 'eaven in a wild flower, 'old infinity in th' palm o' yer 'and, an' eternity in an 'our'," Moira finished the first verse quietly. "It seems...oddly appropriate..."

"Doesn't it just." He could see, feel each grain of sand. It had been easier to manipulate them than the algae, not to mention the red blood cells - they were small, but he had been able to move them en masse in roughly the same fashion. The tighter the focus, the greater the strain.

Only this was something else entirely, trying to go further down, below the level of the visible. You could see a grain of sand. To change it, he had to see - into it?

Watching carefully, she didn't move from where she stood, a silent offering of trust to Nathan, telling him she knew he wouldn't lose control.

Glowing. The grains of sand were glowing a soft gold, although part of Nathan suspected that he was the only one who could see it. The Taj Mahal shuddered a little, but not one grain escaped. His breathing was slow, deep, and everything around him seemed curiously hushed.

Slowly, he told himself. Try it slowly... Remember the way it felt, the feeling of shifting, shapes that were felt instead of seen pulling themselves apart and putting themselves back together into new forms...

Really, Moira hadn't been expecting there to have been any noise. But there was a slight crackling sound in the air, kind of like those old cartoons where the characters turned the water into ice. Stunned, she stared as, once again, from the bottom up the sandcastle slowly started to turn to glass. To her it seemed level by level, but she figured it *had* to have been piece by piece. Dirty brown sand crystallizing into clear glass, gathering a little bit of speed. And if she looked close enough, she could make out little patterns depending on how Nathan had held the sand in place.

The last pieces to change were the minarets, and as the soft golden light died, Nathan let his breath out on a sigh, then wondered why he was resting his head in his hands all of a sudden. "Well, that felt... different," he said a bit wearily. There was a dull, gnawing ache that was spreading upwards from the base of his skull. Very odd.

Moving up behind him, almost afraid she'd break the castle by walking by it, she placed her hands on the back of his neck. The skin felt flushed but thankfully not the warmth that came with the virus breaking loss. "Different bad?" she asked, rubbing his neck.

"Just... weird. Doing it like that." He tilted his head, sighing as tense muscles started to relax under her gentle massage. "I'm not sure what I did. Don't think it was fully conscious, still..." He laughed briefly, slanting a perplexed look up at her. "I feel kind of... loopy."

"Nay bloody wonder, nay after tha' display." She beamed down at him and then leaned over to kiss him gently. "It was still a lot o' progress. Thank ye for trustin' me an' nay jus' refusin' ta do it."

"You weren't worried," he said quietly, part of him amazed even though he knew he shouldn't be. "I think that made it easier." She gave him a smile so brilliant that he actually flushed a little, looking away even as he smiled. "It's kind of pretty, isn't it?" he said, staring at the Taj Mahal. "Looks like most of the interior detail survived the... change? Transmutation?"

"Transmutation works," she murmured. "An' o' course I wasnae worried." Moira paused. "Can we keep it?"

Nathan laughed. "Good thing I didn't make it bigger, I guess. Want me to float it into the house?" He gave it a long, thoughtful look. "I don't think it's as breakable as it looks. No structural weaknesses, I mean."

"Really? Nathan, tha's amazin'...ooo, yer probably goin' ta 'ave one 'ell o' a 'eadache soon..."

"Then we'd better get going, shouldn't we?" He stood, pulling her up with him, unable to help a grin. "You're my very favorite slavedriver, you know."

"Awww, an' yer me verra favorite boytoy," Moira responded, laughing. She couldn't help a giggle as she looked at the glass sandcastle. "An' ye made me me verra own glass Taj Mahal...yer so sweet!"