xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, Friday during the day

Nathan wakes up. There is a considerable amount of clinging.

He was drifting. Floating almost. Nathan's hands twisted, half-expecting to feel water. But it was air - cool, dry air, and the inconsistency drew him a little further out of the warm darkness.

Moira noticed he was stirring and she sat up a little, enough to look into his face. "N-nathan?"

A voice, barely audible yet somehow important. Needed to listen, part of him thought. Respond. He was just so tired...

Moira's hand was shaking when she lifted it to touch his face. She hadn't been able to bring herself to touch him earlier, not when it seemed it would only bring him more pain. She tried again. "Nathan, can ye 'ear me, love?" She cursed the fact that her voice was shaking as well.

A tug at his mind, so very gentle yet so hopeful. Nathan struggled to open his eyes, and saw a blurred shape leaning over him. Red hair. "Moira..." His whisper had no strength behind it.

Charles had repaired the link as much as he dared. He had said that it would deepen again with use. Gently, she reached out with her mind and brushed again it, nearly gasping from the lack of pain in her head. "Aye, I'm 'ere." She blinked back another set of tears.

"Moira..." He felt... strange. Dissociated, as if everything was at a distance. "What..." The hand stroking the side of his face was so gentle. Part of him would have flinched, but...

There was hesitation there but she didn't know if it was hers or his. "I'm sorry," she whispered tightly.

"S-Sorry...? Why..." He swallowed, trying to reach up to take her hand. He got his perhaps a few inches off the bed before it fell back again. "Can't think..."

Without missing a beat, Moira scooped up his hand in hers and held on tightly. "Jus' am." A deep breath to calm her nerves. "I know. Combination o' breakin' th' conditionin' an' all th' stress from th' week." She was shaking so badly as she raised his hand to kiss the back of it.

Breaking...

Breaking the conditioning? He blinked rapidly and tried harder to focus on her. But as soon as he started to tense, the drowsiness came back and his eyes started to droop again. "Don't... how?" he managed, his voice slurred.

One name. "MacInnis."

Nathan struggled to understand, but his head was full of fog, and he couldn't... "Can... hardly remember," he murmured, almost in protest. The memories were there, he could feel them, but they were on the other side of the fog and he couldn't reach them.

"Shh, there's time ta remember later." She leaned over and couldn't help but cry now. "Yer 'ome, Nathan, yer safe."

"Don't cry..." he whispered, his eyes drifting shut again. "Don't cry, love..."

"'appy tears this time," Moira said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "I love ye."

Home... safe? he thought, finally absorbing the words, not just her tears. "Love you," he whispered, slipping back into sleep. "Don't leave me...."

"Never."

---

He felt very, very strange, Nathan thought, opening his eyes and staring up at the ceiling. His head was... not clearer, per se, but he could at least think. Only nothing was quite... connecting. It was easier to just drift. He got the strong impression that he was supposed to just drift.

He turned his head slowly on the pillow, watching Moira. She was curled up beside him, soundly asleep. The link was a tiny thread at the back of his mind, very much like it had been at first. He thought. Memories were a bit fuzzy still, too. The bruises along her jaw bothered him, and he reached out one bandaged hand to touch the side of her face lightly, to reassure himself that she was there. She almost hadn't been, he knew, fuzzy memories or not. They had taken her, and... his eyelids started to droop, and he let the thought fall away. It was one of the thoughts that made him sleepy, and he had been sleepy enough...

Moira whimpered slightly at the gentle touch and opened her eyes. Nathan was watching her with tired eyes and she leaned into another touch on her cheek. "Should be sleepin'," she murmured, meaning him, not her. They had finally let them both back to their rooms after final tests had been done. Easier on Nathan to be out of the medlab, they'd agreed. She hadn't lasted much longer after that, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. For once.

"Trying... to think," Nathan said slowly, after a long moment. "Why so hard?" A trace of dim frustration, but it didn't last for long.

"Charles 'ad ta go in an' 'elp brin' ye back out," she murmured, reaching up to touch his hand. "'e 'ad ta use a type o' psionic anaesthesia to make sure that ye give yerself the chance t'heal. On top o' all th' drugs in yer system..." It was no wonder he was so groggy.

"I don't... remember." Should be able to remember Charles in his mind, but... no, it wasn't there. He sighed a bit heavily. "Can... feel him shielding me, though."

"Probably why everythin's kind o' fuzzy. It'll take time--yer conditionin's broken, though."

He stared at her mutely for a long moment. Unable to quite process that. "I did things," he said slowly. "Said things... didn't I?"

Moira bit her lip but nodded. "Aye, ye did," she admitted. "But ye werenae yerself..."

"In my head." Nathan tried to keep his eyes open as they started to droop ahead. "Voices in my head..." A flash of jumping off a building. Pete, throwing hotknives at him. "Tactical... imperatives? I tried..."

"Ye were fightin' it every step o' th' way." She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes before speaking again. "Dinnae want ta 'urt anyone."

"Said things, though..." His own voice, echoing in his mind. Raving, bitterly angry. Liars. Calling them liars. "To you, even to you..." He tried to focus on her, frowning fitfully. "I hurt you," he murmured.

"Told ye I'd forgive ye nay matter wha' 'appened," Moira said, trying not to cry again. It seemed that's all she had been doing this week. Besides punching that horrid woman in the nose.

Nathan stared at her hand, holding onto his. The bandages on his wrist made him frown. "How... long?" he asked suddenly. "How long since... since the warehouse?"

"Countin' Monday itself? Five days. 'Tis Friday mornin'." Hesitantly, she edged closer to him, not wanting to crowd him. The link was shattered anymore but it wasn't what it used to be. Not yet, anyway.

"Five..." He stared at her stupidly, unable to summon up the reaction that demanded. "Only five," he repeated. "Feels like more. Feels..."

"Feels like forever?" she asked, knowing exactly what he meant. From a different perspective, though. "Especially at night, it felt like bloody forever."

"But it's... over?" He peered at her, trying still to focus, hoping to see... something in her eyes. Reassurance. "They won't... they won't come and take me back?"

"'Tis probably almost impossible ta recondition ye." Moira's voice was soft and quiet. "But 'tis ta difficult ta do it ta ye again, so I doubt they'll come back for ye." She was inches away from him now and hesitated, watching his reaction.

A flicker of real pain, and he fought the surge of drowsiness it provoked. "Are you... are you afraid of me?" he asked brokenly, not knowing why she was hesitating.

"Nathan Daysprin'--" In a flash, she found herself wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. "Never, ever. God. Didnae--" Moira couldn't voice it, the fear that they had done something that would alter how he felt. "Ye said it 'urt ta think o' me."

"They broke the link," he muttered, shivering but putting his arms around her almost automatically. "Tore it apart and turned it around... said it was punishment..."

She was crying again, she realized, and buried her head in his shoulder. As if there hadn't been enough tears lately, it was like someone had opened up the rest of the flood gates and she couldn't stop sobbing.

The pain bounced down the link, but the drowsiness only increased. The memories of that night at Mistra were clear, but it was like someone had removed all the edges from them. "I tried to fight them... too many, too many in the room with me. Hurt too much."

"I know ye tried, I could feel it before th' link shattered." The words were hard to understand through the crying but she knew he would know what she was saying. "So terrified tha' I'd lost ye."

Nathan held her, trying to fight the urge to fall asleep. This really wasn't normal, he thought fitfully. "Gave up, though," he murmured. "When it broke. I gave up..."

"Ta stron', ye 'ad nay choice." She shivered, unable to stop shaking. The stress from the last week were finally breaking down her very last walls. Moira sniffled and tried to stop crying. "I'm sorry."

Nathan closed his eyes. "I just wanted to come home," he whispered, his voice trembling a little. "Back to you..."

"Ye 'ave. I 'ave ye back." Moira lifted her head slightly to brush her lips against his cheek.

He clutched at her suddenly, clinging almost desperately. There was something pulling at his mind now, determined to make him sleep, but a whimper slipped out as he fought it. "Don't want to sleep... don't want to wake up there..."

"Ye willnae, I promise." A hand touched his cheek gently. "Yer 'ere, 'ome. Safe an' God knows I'm never lettin' ye go again. Wha' can I do ta convince ye o' tha'?"

He closed his eyes with a pained sigh. "Don't let go of me," he murmured. "Stay right there... don't let go..."

"I'm nay goin' anywhere, lon' as ye dinnae."

It wasn't totally reassuring, but it was pretty good, Nathan thought. Even as he relaxed, the sleepiness started to lessen again, and he frowned a bit. "Charles... being sneaky, isn't he?"

"Probably," Moira agreed, tucking her head under his chin. She sniffled again and told herself to knock that off.

"Getting upset... makes me want to sleep." Nathan grumbled. "Definitely Charles doing something... why doesn't that bug me...?"

"Because ye trust 'im?" she guessed, trying to make her muscles relax. The convulsions from the link breaking and her falling off the couch had messed up her back a bit.

"Too many people in my head, though," he murmured. "Doing things. Want it to stop..."

Shifting a little, Moira cuddled up next to his side. "It'll stop soon, promise," she murmured against his skin. "Trust me?"

"Always," he breathed, his eyes stinging a little. "No matter what I said."

Gently, she turned his face so that he would look at her. "Everythin' will be okay," she told him, firmly, tracing his cheek with her thumb. "Promise. I'll be 'ere when ye wake up. For th' rest o' our lives, if I can 'elp it."

His arms tightened around her. "One morning at a time?" he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Aye, one mornin' at a time," Moira promised, leaning in a little to kiss him.