xp_logs | Moira and Nathan, early Sunday afternoon (Reply)

Moira gives Nathan some news about the results from her physical. It isn't good, but it could be worse.

Having successfully eluded anything resembling a parent since a second and no less unsettling conversation with Angie's mother in the kitchen, Nathan headed down to Moira's office seeking sanctuary. As he got closer to where she was, though, he was increasingly unaware of the disgruntled, unhappy thoughts she was trying very hard to keep off the link. Frowning, he opened the door to her office without knocking and his eyes narrowed as he saw her sitting at her desk, head pillowed in her hands and a definite edge of frustration to her posture.

"What?" he asked briskly, shutting the door behind him and coming over to sit down in the chair on the other side of her desk.

A part of Moira really didn't want to let him know but she knew he would find out. Even with that knowledge, she bit her lip and shook her head. "Bloody bad day," she muttered, rubbing her face. "Bloody well tired an' exhausted." She glanced up at him and tried to change the subject. "Did ye mention ye were goin' ta go work out today? Does wonders for stress, I 'ear."

"A little later," he said with a wry smile. "But right now, you're going to tell me what you're hiding. So that we can avoid the wheedling and the glaring and all the other foreplay."

"...I thought ye liked foreplay," she protested weakly, laying her head down on desk. The wood table top was cool to the touch and she allowed herself to enjoy it.

"Not the kind we do when you have something to tell me," Nathan said, leaning forward and reaching out to stroke a stray lock of hair back from her forehead. He listened to the link, his jaw tightening a little. "Something from your physical," he said, not quite as steadily.

Moira glanced up sharply. "Nay like tha'," she hurried to reassure him, feeling some of the panicked thoughts on the link. With a sigh, she raised her head and plopped her chin on her hand. "Promise nay ta beat yerself up when I tell ye." The words were reluctant but she knew he would read her mind if she dragged on too long.

Nathan was silent for a moment. "I'll do my best," he said quietly, wondering just what the hell was coming.

"...I somehow managed ta pick up a bloody ulcer." Muttered so softly that she knew it would be hard for Nathan to hear but he would get them anyway. "Why me stomach's been so upset."

Nathan blinked. For a moment, there was basically just the guilt. The almost literally screaming guilt, seasoned by a hefty helping of self-loathing. Then his better self rose up and pushed it away with both hands, forcefully. This wasn't about him, and he didn't get the luxury of indulging his fondness for self-flagellation.

"I'm not surprised," he said softly, with a weary, troubled smile that took an alarming amount of effort to manage. "All the stress you've been under. How bad is it?"

Moira shrugged and rubbed her head, eyeing him ruefully. "Almost made me 'it ye," she muttered at him. "Pretty bad, from th' looks o' it. Nay 'ave ta go inta th' 'ospital, so tha's a plus." She pouted, she really couldn't help it. "'ave ta give up coffee..."

"Switch to tea?" he suggested gently, trying to keep the sudden, wrenching sadness out of his voice. Before she could respond, he rose abruptly from his chair and came over to kneel in front of hers, taking her hands in his. He tried to say something, but the words eluded him, and he smiled unsteadily instead.

"'ey." Gently, she brushed his cheek with the back of her hand, still holding tightly onto his. "I'm fine, love. This 'appens all th' time ta workaholics, ye know that." Moira sighed and leaned forward to brush her lips against his briefly. "Nay wort' gettin' ye so upset over, really."

"You are going to be fine," he said determinedly, his voice wavering a little. He didn't break eye contact with her as she leaned back. "I'm going to make sure." If he had to wait on her hand and foot and 'nudge' her to sleep every night, he would.

An eyebrow quirked slightly. "Nathan, we've got ta--" Moira stopped at the look he shot her and she scowled slightly. "Ta much ta do for me ta laze about an' ye know tha'."

"It's a question of pacing," he said, swallowing. "And I know I'm the biggest hypocrite in the world, Moira, but... you're too important. Not just to me. Who you are, what you do... none of us can afford to lose that because you drive yourself too hard."

She watched him for a second before distangling her fingers from his. Before he could protest, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. "I'll be fine," she murmured into his shoulder, closing her eyes as she felt him hug her back. "I dinnae think I know 'ow ta pace myself, Nathan. Nay since Kevin was born 'ave I tried."

"We'll figure it out," he told her, holding her tightly. "Like we've figured out everything else. Probably by stumbling around, pissing each other off, and making a mess at times, but we'll get there." He closed his eyes, letting the air in his lungs out on a sigh. "But you have to be all right," he said softly, his voice almost lost-sounding.

"I will," Moira cooed at him, rubbing his back. "I jus'...need rest, I guess. But I dinnae think I know 'ow." She laughed softly. "Ta damned old ta learn new tricks, or so I feel, anyway. I'll start ta really get better when everyone is found."

"We're not that old." He hugged her tightly for a moment and then drew back, pulling her up with him. "Have you had lunch?" he asked most steadily, a helpless little smile playing on his lips.

A few seconds passed before she grumbled. "I guess when ye 'ave ta think 'bout it, it normally means 'nay', aye?" Moira asked, slipping an arm around his waist so she could snuggle up to him.

"Then let's," Nathan said firmly, sliding an arm around her. "Something easy on the stomach. One step at a time, right? It can't be as hard that way."

"I suppose. But...my coffee..."

"We'll go online," Nathan ventured, leading her towards the door. "Check out a specialty tea place. I know a couple of the sites GW uses." He gave a strained chuckle at the inquisitive look she gave him. "Consider it an adventure. We can sample lots of different kinds of exotic teas until you find something that replaces the coffee, at least for now."

Moira paused, eyeing him carefully. "Nathan, are ye okay?" she asked, having caught the strain in his voice.

Down and away, he told himself. The frustration, the fear, and especially that little residual flicker of guilt he couldn't quite banish. It was a damned good thing their link wasn't empathic. "I'm fine," he said more firmly. "Worried about you, but... like you said, you'll be fine. We just have to make sure you do what you need to do to get over this. And avoid parents, maybe?" He offered a hesitant smile.

"Avoidin' parents would be a good thin'," she said, firmly. She nudged him towards the door and sighed mentally. #Please dinnae beat yerself up over this...tha' 'elp me if ye dinnae.#

#You're the only thing I'm concerned about right now,# Nathan sent back, and meant it. Anything else, and that included his own feelings on the subject, were of no consequence. "If we come across Manuel's father," he said, deliberately shifting the direction of the conversation, "I'll distract him, and you can run."

A quiet laugh escaped her. "Would tha' distractin' include puttin' 'im through a wall?" Moira asked cheerfully, smiling up at him.

"I thought we agreed I wasn't allowed to do that?":

She thought about it for a second. "...blast, I guess we do 'ave ta be good."

"Remember, you're talking to someone who's very good at escape and evasion," Nathan said quite seriously. "We can leave him to Charles. Hell, Charles, um, 'suggested' that I make a virtue of avoidance."

An eyebrow raised slightly. "Well then, by all means, let us avoid. Or I might put 'im through a wall..."

Nathan grinned suddenly, almost despite himself. "Now, that I'd pay to see."