xp_logs | Moira and Nathan, Monday afternoon

After these logs, Nathan waits for Moira in their suite. When she gets back, he tells her everything. Someone's been trying a little too hard to bounce back.

In the end, he hadn't changed out of the bloodstained shirt. He'd sat down on the couch when he'd come in, and started to think, really think, about some of the things Haroun and Shinobi had said. Sense. Lots of sense. None of it on his side.

When Moira opened the door, her eyes widening at the sight of him, Nathan didn't so much as blink. "Hi," he said, his voice very low, ragged with weariness and pain. "I think we need to talk."

Wordlessly, still staring at him, she walked to the couch and sank down into it. "Wha'--" Moira stopped and took a deep breath. Obviously, something had happened and she wasn't going to like whatever it was. Better let Nathan have the chance to get it out.

"Before we do... I did something really stupid." He wasn't sure quite what to make of this feeling of extreme clarity; he didn't trust it, but on the other hand, what else did he have to go with here? "Several somethings stupid. With my telekinesis."

At this point, it had gone beyond a minor miracle that Moira's blood pressure had not permantly spiked through the roof. "Son o' a..." Gritting her teeth, she stopped herself again and took a deep breath. She had gone from very concerned to very concerned with a side of pissy. "Wha' 'appened ta ye nay usin' yer powers for a few days?" she forced out between clenched teeth. He had _promised_ her.

"I snuck out to the quarry behind your back and blocked the link," Nathan said, as if commenting on what a pretty blue the sky was today. "Because I could stand the headache without having to take a painkiller this morning, apparently that means that heavy lifting was acceptable. My logic is not Earth logic."

If she concentrated enough, Moira figured she would probably be able to feel her ulcer pulse in time with her heart beat. There was no doubt that she was angry but, she admitted to herself, it would have been worse if he hadn't told her and she had confronted him about it. She took a second to squeeze the bridge of her nose tightly, as if to hold back the anger and slight hurt she was feeling at the fact that he had disregarded her professional advice.

"I can't explain." The calm tone was fraying a little around the edges, the words speeding up as he went on. "Or I can, but you don't really want to hear it, because it involves a whole lot of stubbornness, a near-total lack of reason, and what I actually think was the honest desire to hurt myself." She was looking at him now, her eyes widening. "Does that happen often?" he asked, and the calm was just a facade, now, brittle as glass. "People using their mutations to hurt themselves. I'd hate to think I was unique."

After a second, she cleared her throat. "Shiro," she said, softly. "So, nay, yer nay alone in tha'. More people would, if they 'ad powers but we do it in other ways when we cannae." Moira stopped, losing the words again.

He looked away, then. Just for a moment, to try and breathe, and gather his composure. The Askani were utterly silent, watchful but silent. His jaw trembled as he looked back at Moira. "I'm not coping well," he said, the words coming out hoarse, yet blunt. "Actually, I don't think I'm really coping at all. I'm just putting up an intermittently good show."

"I know," Moira said, almost a whisper. "I can see it, I know ye ta well." She shook her head. "'Tis okay ta nay be able ta cope, Nathan."

"I keep telling myself that I shouldn't be feeling like this." Nathan stared at the carpet in front of the couch. "I wasn't really hurt, so why should I need more than a few days recovery time? And it made sense to look at it like that, because everyone wanted me to be okay, and hell, I might need everyone's last nerve at some point, so I shouldn't be wearing on it now, right?" Odd... that really hadn't come out as facetious-sounding as it should have.

Feeling the urge to pace, Moira stood and stuck her hands in her pockets but never took her eyes off of Nathan. "We want ye ta be okay, Nathan, but we understand if'n yer nay. 'Tis takes _time_ ta get over thin's, ye should know this by now. An' jus' because ye werenae really 'urt now--Nathan, 'tis jus' one more thin' on top o' a lot o' other shit ye've been forced ta deal wit' lately! Dinnae jus' look at this one incident but take a look at wha' else 'as 'appened around it!" The tremors in her voice were hard to miss but she swallowed, unsure if they were from the anger she still held, though it was fading fast, or another emotion.

Nathan's jaw trembled, but he clenched it, making himself meet her eyes. "I know," he said, his voice very low. "I know, and I know that just about everyone in this house would be horrified if they thought I was trying to put an act on for their benefit. I know that, but I don't..." He paused. "It's still there," he said finally. "All of the suspicion, all of the mistrust about people's motives, the lack of faith... it didn't go away with the conditioning. Which means that it's me, Moira. It's all me."

Her hands were clenched so tightly in her pockets that they hurt. "It makes sense," she said softly, after a second, walking closer to him. "After all ye've 'ad done ta ye..."

He stared up at her, silent for a long moment. She waited him out. When he spoke again, the hesitations, the elliptical phrasing, all of it was gone.

"They broke me," he said simply, the bare, stark words coming out at a near-normal volume. He saw the color in her face change, ghost-white driven out by a flush of hectic color. "I think it's time I admitted that."

Slowly, Moira removed her hands from her pockets and edged her way in front of him. Wordlessly, she dropped to a crouch in front of him so she could look up into his face. "They did," she murmured, reaching out with her hands but left them hovering over his hands, waiting on him. "But ye can put yerself back together, wit' 'elp." Tears filled up her eyes and she blinked them back.

"Did I ever tell you one of the questions Manuel asked me when we were testing his lie-detecting tricks?" Nathan asked, just as calmly.

She shook her head.

"He asked me whether or not I thought you ever wondered if you shouldn't find someone less damaged to share the rest of your life with." He took a deep, shaky breath as the tears spilled down her cheeks. "I don't want... reassurance, Moira, and please don't smack me in the head, as tempting as that might be right now." He took her hands, his grip tightening. "I love you," he said, his voice wavering. "I love you so much. But I know how damaged I am, Moira. How hard it's been for you."

Moira stared at him, more tears coming. "Wha'--" She stopped when he shook his head and she swallowed the rest of the words that had been about to spill out. Obviously he wasn't done. So instead of talking, she simply gripped his hands as tightly as she could and waited.

"I wanted you to know that I know that," he went on doggedly. "That I know that, that I'm sorry..." He swallowed past a lump in his throat. "But I need you," he said, his voice finally breaking. "I know it's hard, I know I'm not being fair. But I need you to be strong for me, Moira. Not all the time, thank God, or I don't think I could live with myself... but I trust you. I trust you like I don't trust anyone else, and sometimes..." He shivered as her hands tightened on his. "Sometimes I can't do anything but let go," he went on, his voice a bit wild, "and I'm so scared of falling."

"Ye can fall," she started, voice breaking, "an' I'll catch ye. I'll always catch ye, nay matter wha' condition I'm in. I know ye need me ta be stron', an' I will, for as lon' as ye need me ta be. Ye need ta jus' let go sometimes or ye'll break, I'm glad yer seein' tha'." It was hard not to cry, not with what he was talking about and how the link felt, but she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close despite the condition of his clothes. "I love ye, all yer damage included, an' I wouldnae live without it."

Nathan buried his head in the crook of her neck, shaking as he held onto her. "I'm so tired, Moira," he said brokenly. "I'm just so tired... I don't want to feel like this, but it's so hard to keep pushing ahead."

"Then stop, Nathan," she murmured, remembering to breath as he tightened his hold on her. "Jus' stop an' relax. 'Tis okay ta do tha', really."

"I don't want to be this weak!" It came out sounding panicked, almost petulant, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on breathing. "I don't want to be this weak," he repeated, more softly.

"It takes strengt' ta be able ta lean on someone else," Moira pointed out.

"Something else that's all me," he whispered. "I always thought it was the conditioning that told me I had to be the person in control, that I couldn't show weakness." The pack instinct. You didn't stay alpha if you exhibited your vulnerability. "But it's not. I'm starting to wonder if any of the stupid things I think and do were..."

"Shh, stop it." Moira pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. "Ye 'ad ta force yerself ta do so many thin's jus' ta survive. Love, 'tis been so many years o' fightin' ta stay alive. Ye 'ave ta develop certain ways ta do thin's in order ta jus' live."

"I want to. I still want to, so much..." His eyes stung and blurred, and he bent his head towards her, their foreheads almost touching, all the things he couldn't put into words properly racing down the link. She was there at the center of all of it, he thought disjointedly. All of his hopes, all of his dreams... and he was so scared of losing it all, of losing her.

She shivered and closed her eyes as everything rushed down the link into her mind. The link itself felt like it was exanding again, trying to get back to what it was before everything happened. It was hard to figure out individual thoughts but she couldn't help but understand. There was no way he was going to lose anything, least of all her, she sent back, still shivering slightly.

"Don't tell me that," he almost whimpered, clinging to her. Remembering being strapped to that bed in the medlab, screaming at them that he should never have trusted them, never believed. "Don't say it... just... be there when I wake up tomorrow. And the day after that. Please..."

"Shh, shhh." Burrowing her head in his shoulder, Moira nodded. "I'll be there. Every mornin'."