Collateral Damage - Aftermath - Nathan and Moira, late Saturday night

[x-cable.livejournal.com]

In the medlab, Moira monitors Nathan, who's struggling with a virus flare-up after his powers were scrambled during the fight. He asks her to tell him the death count at the university. He proceeds to Not Cope with her answer.



"I don't want to stay down here," Nathan muttered dimly, pushing himself up into a sitting position with his good arm, still unable to help a wince as his battered body protested. The room spun wildly, and for a moment he thought he was going to be sick to his stomach. "Don't...need to, do I?" Even as Moira turned back to him to respond, he started to cough again, nearly doubling over at the pain in his chest. As the spasm eased off, he wiped the blood away from his mouth, shivering.

"Well, tha' would be yer "aye", then, wouldn't it?" Moira responded, walking back over to the hospital bed. "Love, yer goin' ta be down 'ere for a while yet an' ye know tha'. I cannae let ye upstairs, nay in this condition." Still, she reached over to touch the back of his hand gently. The first thing she had done upon seeing him was give him a triple dose of the drug cocktail for the virus, but it wasn't having any effect yet. It was hard to hide her fear.

"The drugs'll kick... back in," he rasped shakily, trying to catch his breath. "My TK t-too. I'll stop... doing this soon..." He wanted out of the infirmary. Needed to check on Amanda first, and Manuel, but he wanted out of here... away somewhere else, where he couldn't hear anyone think...

"Nathan, lay back down." Gently, she helped ease him back onto the bed and sighed, worry in her eyes. "Look wha' they did ta ye," Moira whispered, suddenly glad that the lights were dimmer than normal in the room. Not only to keep Nathan calm but after what happened yesterday, the backlash down the link, she was experiencing a migraine and that included being light sensitive for a while.

"Did... to me?" he asked, his voice breaking as it rose. "I don't... really think that's the i-issue--" He cut himself off, focusing on breathing. Didn't want to start coughing again. Really didn't. Above and beyond the fact that it hurt like hell, it made everything else hurt worse.

"Aye, it 'tis th' issue!" Moira snapped but quieted her voice. "Did ta ye, ta Amanda, ta everyone but I'm *worried* about *ye* at this moment."

"How m-many?" Nathan asked miserably, shivering at some of the images that flickered down from Moira's end of the link. "Do they... know yet?" He had been unconscious for a while, he knew that much. Things had started to get awfully hazy in the car with Pete, but he wasn't sure how much time had passed.

Moira hesitated but knew he'd find out eventually and she'd rather it be from her. "They're still doin' damage control but last count was somewhere around forty," she said quietly, not letting go of his hand.

Forty. His mind was flooded with memories of what he had seen as he ran, trying to find Amanda. All those bodies, broken and burned. All those kids... he sucked in a sharp breath that turned into a cough, then another, and this time it didn't ease off as quickly. He couldn't stop, couldn't catch his breath, and the taste of blood in his mouth was enough to choke him.

#Nathan, relax!# It was instinctual and she regretted it as a sharp spike of pain pierced her brain. Working through it, she quickly slipped her arm under his neck and heaved, forcing him into a sitting position. His jaw was clamping shut and Moira knew he would be in trouble if that happened, especially if he bit his tongue. A deft move with her free hand removed the hair stick from its position and then forced it into his mouth. "Calm down." This time spoken, not wanting to try the link so soon.

The next few minutes were a blur of pain, but even as the agonizing coughing went on and his vision started to swim as he tried and failed to breathe normally, he was dimly aware that Moira never left his side. The first thing he really registered, once he could breathe again, was her wiping the blood away from his mouth, the gentleness of her movements a sharp contrast to her fierce expression.

"If tha' 'appens again, I'm goin' ta give ye more medication," Moira murmured, steadfast in her resolve. "We worked too 'ard ta brin' ye up ta this state, nay 'bout ta see ye slip back again." They would stabilize him. This damned virus wasn't going to have him, not now, not ever. After making sure she had cleaned all the blood away, she paused for a second, her hand lingering on his cheek. "Everythin'll be okay, Nathan."

There were tears in his eyes, and much as he might have liked to think so, they weren't from the coughing. "N-Not... worth it," he rasped weakly, shaking. Her arms tightened around him. "Not that... so many... not because of me..."

"Shhh, shhh. Ye are nay responsible, sweetheart, yer nay. An' I know ye think ye are. I know ye." Hesitatingly, she brushed the link and winced, wondering when the migraine would go away. "Dinnae give up, please..."

"They d-didn't.. give me the chance..." Forty. Forty innocent lives, maybe more. Could have been so many more. His breath was coming in great racking sobs and the twisting in his chest warned him that if he didn't stop he'd start coughing again. But he couldn't. Couldn't pull himself back together, not this time... "I would've... if they'd let me... oh God, why d-didn't they let me surrender first..."

"Because they wanted ye ta suffer, dinnae they?" she asked, quietly, holding him as closely as possible given his injuries.

"Don't know w-what..." His voice caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut as a sudden realization hit him. It wouldn't have been as much of a threat, if they hadn't done it yet. If he'd thought he could stop them. But with bodies on the ground already, proof they were willing and capable...

"Dinnae think," Moira murmured into his ear, reaching up to stroke his hair. "Deep breaths, as deep as ye can get. Jus' unclench an' relax." Deep breathing would hurt, with cracked ribs, but he needed to try.

He tried to do as she said. Relaxing was beyond him, but he did manage one of the breathing exercises she had taught him all those years ago, and the pain in his chest ebbed a little. "Hurts," he muttered aloud, his voice breaking as he started to notice the other aches and pains again. His wrist was the worst, and he raised it a little, blinking down at the bandages.

"'Tis broken. I think yer goin' ta be using a slin' for a while." She sighed. "Especially since ye also dislocated this shoulder an' there are cuts alon' it as well." Deep ones, there and across his chest. Claw marks, almost. "Thank God it was one arm, love, an' nay bot'..."

"Can't... have four functional limbs at o-once, can I?"

"Doesnae seem like it, nay lately anyway." Leaning over, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Nathan closed his eyes as they started to burn again suddenly. "If I h-hadn't..." His voice broke again. "If I hadn't... fought so hard..."

"Then they probably would 'ave still killed," Moira snapped. "Look at me, Nathan. They were nae jus' after ye ta brin' ye back. They wanted ta 'urt ye an' tha' included all tha' killin'. If ye 'ad surrendered, who's ta say they wouldnae 'ave killed jus' out o' spite? For ye leavin' all those years back?"

He tried to shake his head, to tell her that no, it wasn't that simple, that everything they did had at least several reasons, but it was too hard to think, let alone to understand their strategy... "Amanda?" he whispered instead, feeling tears trickling from his closed eyes. "M-Manuel?"

"Shaken but they'll be okay. Amanda's in th' room down th' 'all, sleepin' now most like. She's me next stop. Manuel, last I knew, was upstairs. They're alive, they'll be okay."

Alive. Two alive. Forty not. The numbers bounced around erratically in his mind, some equation he couldn't figure out, no answer he could see. Images from the fight joined them, Morgan in his exoskeleton and the ones he hadn't know. All dead now except Morgan, dead along with their victims, and weren't they victims in the end, too? Someone made a noise, a broken moan, and Nathan realized dimly that it was him.

Broken images tumbled down the link, which already felt like it had been scraped raw, and Moira found herself burying her head gently in his uninjured shoulder. "God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Feeling utterly helpless, all she could think of to do was hold onto him.