xp_logs | Moira and Nathan, Wednesday late afternoon

Nathan wakes up again, and this time it's Moira sitting with him. She reassures him about Cain and his own condition, they joke a little, and he asks her to call Bridge. The question of how and when to tell the Pack about the baby comes up.

He didn't need his telepathy to know who was holding his hand, Nathan reflected as he drifted back out of troubled sleep. He opened his eyes to blackness - still not a dream, he thought bleakly, with a quiver of fear - but turned his throbbing head on the pillow, knowing roughly where her face had to be.

"How's... Cain?" he rasped. The coughing was not doing good things to his voice.

Moira stirred out of a shallow sleep and raised her free hand to rub her eyes. There had not been much restful sleep since Cain's power accident but she supposed she should be grateful to any she could get.

"Stable," she responded, studying Nathan with a worried look. His sight still wasn't back. "Asleep as well, which is good. Allowin' 'is body ta 'eal. It'll be a while before 'e's back on 'is feet, though."

"That's good..." He swallowed, which hurt; his throat felt raw from the coughing. Part of him wanted to try and reach out through the pain in his head, find the link amid all the buzzing and strange haziness, but Charles had warned him against doing that. Besides, she was right here. "Scared me. Chests... should not have holes in them." Had that been a joke?

She managed a weak smile. "Well, look who's sense o' 'umor is back," she teased softly, shifting to put her hand on his chest. "Nay, they shouldnae 'ave 'oles in them. Scared me ta. I shouldnae 'ave ta restart a 'eart, either." Oh, that was going to stay with her for a very long time.

Despite the fact that his chest hurt worse than his head did, having her hand there felt good. Reassuring. Without being able to see, or to use his telepathy, everything felt... flat, unrealistic.

Except her.

"Would've... frozen, you know," he managed, trying to keep his breathing level, shallow enough that he wouldn't start coughing again. "If it'd been... Hank, or Maddie, asking me to do that... but you believed I could. Felt it."

"Nay ye wouldnae 'ave," Moira responded firmly. "I believed ye could 'ave done it, wit' or without me bein' there." There was tension under her hand and she rubbed it slowly, working out stress and trying to make it easier for him to breathe.

"Didn't meant to... fall over, after. Give you another patient... definite first-aid no-no." All right. So he was maybe taking the attempt to combat... all of this with humor a little too far. He breathed in a little too deeply and started to cough. She murmured comfortingly to him, talking him through it, and soon he was sagging back against the pillows again, wheezing. "That... can stop anytime now. Really."

"Th' virus is actin' up again. Once yer back on yer feet wit' yer telekinesis, this'll all calm back down. Yer fever seems ta be goin' down again, which is good. An' ye'll be 'appy ta know tha' Amanda's out o' th' MedLab now."

Nathan managed a smile. "She did... good, didn't she?" It was a relief to realize that he could remember nearly everything that had happened in the medlab, though some pieces had yet to come back. On top of everything else, another gap in his memory would really have been too much. "So proud of her..."

"Aye, she did fantastic. Dinnae 'esitate, did everythin' we asked o' 'er an' more." She smiled a little. "We need ta tell 'er privately, ye know, before th' rest."

Nathan thought about that for a moment. "Good point," he murmured. He was silent for a moment, wishing he could sense something, anything from the link. "You're okay?" he whispered, his voice cracking a little. "Know you couldn't have gotten much sleep..."

"I will be." Shifting closer, Moira leaned her head on his shoulder. "I keep seein' Cain when I slept. But I know I 'ave ta rest, for th' baby's sake."

All right. He could do this. Without accidentally poking her in the eye. He raised a hand tentatively, stroking her hair. "I'll be good, too," he promised hoarsely. "Rest and do as I'm told... not going to mess around."

She giggled a little when he poked her in the nose accidently. "Up. There ye go. An' good, because I'll 'ave ta 'urt ye if'n yer tryin' ta get yerself injured before yer 'ealed from this. Hmm, sweetie? Speakin' o' tellin' people? Wha' 'bout th' Pack?"

"Oh... whoa. Hadn't..." He tried to stifle a cough, almost managed it. It wasn't followed by another, at least. He went on, wheezing a little. "I was going to ask you... to call GW. Was supposed to call him... yesterday?" He really hoped this was only the second day he'd been in here. "Suspect he and Dom'll hop on a plane when they find out what happened whether or not we tell them not to... we can tell them when they get here, if we want."

Rubbing his chest, Moira nodded against his shoulder. "Aye, tha'll work jus' fine. ...want Grizz ta come ta." There was only a slight pout in her voice. Only a small one.

"You're making a face, aren't you?" Nathan smiled wearily. "I can hear it..." He heard her chuckle softly. "Theo'd be just awful, you know," he went on, his voice definitely trying to give out on him. "He'd be beating up the breeze if it blew too hard on you..."

There was a giggle at that. "I know, I miss th' big lug. I want ta see 'is face when we tell 'im. Ta bad 'tis so 'ard ta get th' rest o' them out 'ere. Maybe durin' Christmas? See everyone?"

"If they can't, I'll fly out to Berlin and beat them all up. You'll just have to point me in the right direction." He took as deep a breath as he dared. "Any idea... how long this'll last, yet?" He knew she'd know he meant the blindness.

"I'd like ta see tha', I really would." Moira paused at his last question and she chewed on her lips. "Nay for 'ow lon' but I suspect tha' 'tis nay goin' ta last forever. Ye jus' pushed ta 'ard, I think. Unless someone else blows up a gem in their chest, love, can ye avoid doin' tha' trick wit' yer powers in th' future?"

"I'll stick to helicopters and bullets and stuff," Nathan murmured, some of his tension easing at her dry tone. He would rest, and follow doctor's (and Charles') orders, and this would all take care of itself. It would. "Promise."

"I will 'old ye ta tha'."