xp_logs | Hank, Moira, sometime Wednesday

Hank catches Moira creeping down to the lab, trying to do some work on the sly. Instead, she gets hugs, chocolate, and reassurance that the ten years they've known each other have not made her any less amazing. And also paperwork.

~~~~~~
Really, she wasn't supposed to be down here, Moira mused as she padded along the hallways in the MedLab. She was supposed to be resting. Or something. But anymore rest and quiet and she was going to toss her beloved fiancee out the window, telekinetics or no. She could settle down nice and quietly in a lab anyway, running more tests for Cain before she gave him a full check up. No one needed to know.

Hank saw the flicker of movement go past his open door, and peeked out to see Moira sneaking... definitely sneaking... down the hall. "Rrrrrrrhem!" he growled meaningfully, grinning a little as she jumped and looked around. So typical of her to try this... he suspected she had some kind of hitherto unsuspected allergy to rest. "Sneaking past without even saying hello? I'm hurt, my dear. I might even suspect that you were attempting not to allow anyone to discover that you were down here."

"Henry!" She clutched at her heart and expelled a deep breath. "Ye scared th' livin' daylights out o' me!" Even as startled as she was, she couldn't help a smile that started to spread at the sight of him. "An' wha'? Me? Attempt ta sneak down 'ere an' work? Never, yer mistakin' me for another redheaded Scot who's expectin' a bairn."

"Oh, no, I don't think I am." He grinned, ambling over to her and gathering her up in a gentle hug. "Silly Scot. Getting into all sorts of trouble when I'm not around," he said fondly. He'd been worried about her... he and Moira had known each other for a long time, and he knew she was prone to doing silly things when there ws nobody around to shove her under one arm and ignore her cursing until she calmed down.

"Well, ye know me, Henry," Moira laughed, returning the hug. She leaned her head on his shoulder, a very much familiar gesture that she hadn't been able to do in a long time. "Such a mess...I wish ye 'ad been over there. Only part o' me was glad ye werenae, glad ye were over 'ere an' safe. We lead such a charmed life, don't we?"

"We do." He rubbed her back gently with one huge hand. "And all's well, thank goodnes... and I promise, I'm going to be around a lot more from now on. I've already apologized to Madelyn for leaving you both in the lurch so often, and I'm sorry to you as well. I'll make up for it by covering for you after the baby's born, though, how's that?" He smiled down at her. "And in the meantime, I've got a late Christmas Present for you."

"Ye dinnae 'ave ta apologize...I'm nay goin' ta stop ye if ye want ta grovel a wee bit." She snickered a little. "Mostly, ye were missed. Sometimes cursed, but mostly jus' missed." Her eyes lit up a little bit at his last statement. "A gift? Ye shouldnae 'ave." There was a mental note made to find all the Christmas gifts that were packed and hand them out. Soon.

"Some of it's Christmas, some of it's apology." He grinned, and drew her into his office. "I had to keep it locked up," he explained, unlocking his desk drawer and pulling out the red-wrapped package. "Otherwise, another red-headed doctor we know might have found it and stolen it. I don't know if you saw her journal post on the subject..." Maddie was charming when hyped up on chocolate, especially when that chocolate included a couple of boxes of truffles, but still, this was Moira's share of the spoils.

"I can guess wha's in 'ere." Grinning a little--Moira liked presents and she knew Hank would remember that--she started to rip open the package. "I'm assumin' 'tis nay dougnuts because they'd be forfitted already. She is scary like tha'." Once, she had seen Maddie find a last bag of dougnuts that were buried under a pile of paper, two stuffed animals and a few odds and ends. In less than five minutes, even. Very, very scary.

"The very best of its kind, since you deserve nothing less." Hank grinned a little. He'd never yet found a woman who'd turn down fine Belgian chocolate, especially with the truffles. It was a good way to apologize for being a Bad Hank.

She made a pleased sound in the back of her throat as the hefty smell of Belgian chocolate hit her. "Henry, if I weren't engaged..." Moira teased, feeling her stomach rumble sharply. "This verra much makes up for ye disappearin'. As lon' as ye plan on stickin' around this time."

Hank laughed. "You had plenty of time to run away with me before you got engaged," he said, feigning hurt feelings. "It's too late to try and make it up to me now. My heart is irretrievably shattered." Then he reached over to pat her shoulder gently. "And I am definitely sticking around," he said more seriously. "And Madelyn and I have already worked out a lighter schedule for you, that we intend to make you stick to."

"Ye werenae givin' me Belgian chocolate before I got engaged!" she pointed out, shaking the bag at him gently. Reaching up, she put her hand on his and smiled, some of the tension easing out of her. Being around old friends always did that to her. "As lon' as ye dinnae kick me out o' th' labs entirely, I'll be fine. Besides, wit' ye stickin' around I doubt I'll 'ave ta do any doctorin' like wit' Cain again." A troubled looke crossed her face but she shook it off. "An' we'll 'old ye ta tha' 'stayin' around' thin', Dr. McCoy. Ye know better than ta cross two redheads."

He laughed. "You know what intelligent, forceful women do to me, Moira.I assure you, I will be putty in your hands." He grinned rather wickedly at her. "And you'll still have plenty to do. But things you can do with your feet up. Things that won't tire you out. Things not unconnected to paperwork." He assumed an innocent expression. "Not that I have any reluctance to do paperwork, you understand. I love paperwork, yet I am tragically unable to do most of it due to my current inability to write inside the spaces." His handwriting was still good, but it was by necessity rather larger than it had been, so that wasn't entirely untrue.

Moira gave him a Look, the one that said "I see right through you". One that he was very familiar with. "Oh, I'm sure ye'll be jus' 'eart broken at gettin' me ta 'elp ye wit' yer paperwork," she said wryly, suddenly seeking a place to sit down. Maybe it was the stress, or the baby, but she'd just get hit with spots of tiredness. "I willnae complain as lon' as I 'ave somethin' ta do. An' I've got me own experiments. Especially now tha' it seems Rory's buggered off somewhere."

He moved aside as she headed for the nearest chair, and sat on the edge of the desk nearby. "Oh, I will be heartbroken, truly, but I'll soldier on... And I have been giving some serious thought to Jonothon's condition, and I believe I may have an inkling as to why he seems unable to reform into solid matter. That, too, we should be able to work on while sitting down... well, you sitting down, anyway." He leaned over to open his minifridge with one overlong arm. "Hm. Caffiene isn't good for you just now... would you like some juice? Water? Iced tea?"

That wasn't a pout she gave him, really. She'd been on a no-coffee diet since she found out she was having a baby. It did not mean she was happy about it. "Water, right now, would be more than fine," she said, wistfully aching for her beloved coffee. "An' thank God, I was startin' ta pull me 'air out from worryin' 'bout 'im."

"So was I... and I have a lot more to pull." Hank gave her a bottle of water, taking a bottle of orange juice himself. "And I don't know if you've noticed, but his energy levels have been very slowly but steadily increasing, since he blew himself up... I've been going over our records, today, and there's definitely a perceptible increase."

The water tasted better than it really should have. After the first sip, Moira glanced up at him and frowned. "'ow big o' an increase are we talkin' 'bout? I'm assumin' nay dangerous but perhaps enough ta get 'im ta th' point o' bein' able ta rebuild 'is body?"

"Actually, I suspect the problem may be that he passed that point some time ago." Hank sipped his juice thoughtfully. "The trouble is that psionic energy is difficult to measure, and even more so to compare to more standard energy levels... Although I can tell he has more than he had before, it's difficult to equate it to more standard measurements. However, I've been redoing my original calculations, allowing for the increase, and... I think the problem may be that he has too much."

"So 'e 'as ta let off some, somehow, before th' lad can brin' 'imself back together," she muttered. "Makes sense, 'is body was only able ta contain so much an' once 'e reached tha' point...well, for a lack o' better scientific term...'boom'."

"Exactly. And his levels have gone up even further since then." Hank nodded. "At this point, I think we may be looking, literally, at too much power for mere matter to contain." He smiled ruefully, and sipped his juice again. "I fear that our experience in treating corporeal injuries may have led us astray. Our instinct, as physicians, is to allow time for an injured person to heal and grow stronger... unfortunately, this time growing stronger may be the problem."

"Bloody 'ell." Once again, her mind went to Kevin and that poor boy from Muir just recently. Too much energy for one physical body to contain. "So we need someway for 'im ta be able ta bleed off th' energy. Safely. Any ideas since ye've been thinkin' 'bout this?"

"At the moment, I'm still not entirely sure that's the problem... although it would certainly explain some of the difficulties we've been running into. How exactly does one test for something like this?" Hank sighed. "Once we're sure, though... I have very little in the way of ideas. Perhaps consulting with the Professor might help... as a psi himself, he may have some suggestions."

"We 'ave a plethora o' psi's, thankfully. Tha'll 'elp, we can consult all o' them if it boils down ta tha'." Moira closed her eyes for a second. "I wish for jus' one bloody week o' calm. Nay injuries or explosions or attacks. Jus' peace an' quiet. But, well, if wishes were fishes..."

"Around here, wishes being fishes could result in a rain of sharks." Hank smiled ruefully. "Still. At least we have an idea to work with, now.... and thankfully, Jono doesn't seem to be in any discomfort or distress. He's lonely, I think, and misses his life as it was before, but he's not in any pain, and he isn't aware of how long it's been, which puts him in a much better position than most of our other patients, now or ever."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose yer true. I jus' feel so much for th' lad. I know 'tis 'ard on Paige, as well. As much as she puts up that 'I'm fine' front. Younger me, I swear. Jus' wit' blonde 'air an' no Scottish accent."

"I'm familiar with your tendency to do that," Hank agreed, reaching over to give her hand a gentle squeeze. "And I will not have it, I tell you. Being brave and not telling me when something is wrong is absolutely forbidden." He waved a finger at her reprovingly. "On pain of not getting more chocolate when you become a mother."

Now that deserved a pout, even as she clasped his hand in hers. "Tha's jus' mean," Moira pointed out, trying to keep the pout in place. "Ye realize 'ow 'ard tha's goin' ta be for me? Every time I go ta be brave, th' idea o' nay chocolate is goin' ta dance in me 'ead."

"Exactly. And you'll tell me all about it and not have to be brave about it, and be rewarded with chocolate. You see how well it works out for everyone?" He grinned affectionately at her. "And don't think your adorable pouting will entice me to be lenient. You shattered my heart irretrievably, remember?" he added teasingly. "I am now entirely immune to your wiles, you heartbreaking Scottish hussy, you."

"Well damn, there go all me tricks inta gettin' ye ta do wha' I want," she mocked bemoaned, putting her other hand over her heart. Even with the bag of chocolate still in them, she assured herself it looked rightfully mournful. "An' I cannae believe yer _bribin'_ me inta behavin', Henry McCoy."

"Well, if I threatened you, I think Nathan might set my toes on fire." He quivered in mock terror. "He's really quite a fearsome fellow, you know, to a poor, sheltered academic like me. Besides, threats engage your stubborn tendencies and bring them to the fore. Bribery doesn't, therefore it stands a chance of working."

"I've been told me stubborn streak is part o' me attractiveness." She snickered slightly. "An' Nathan blusters a lot but wouldnae dare ta set yer toes on fire. Mainly because I dinnae think we want th' smell o' burned 'air in th' labs. We've 'ad it enough on occassion, when ye've gotten a wee bit ta close..."

"And I do try so hard to always smell my best." Hank sighed. "Indeed, stubborn and attractive women are among the most knee-melting of them all. However, I am old and wise enough now to know that telling one such stubborn and attractive woman what to do is not a good idea. At all."

"Sometimes it is. Most o' th' time, 'tis best ta go th' round 'bout way." She shook the bag of chocolates at him again and grinned. "Like this. An' yer nay _tha'_ old, God yer makin' me feel ancient."

"Moira, there are persons wandering about this school who I am old enough to have fathered... at least, if I'd been both precocious and adventurous in my early to mid teens... who insist that they are adults." He shook his head and grinned ruefully. "There are times when I feel positively decrepit."

"If yer decrepit, tha' makes me nearly dead." She stuck her tongue out at him. "An' I dinnae even want ta know wha' tha' makes Charles. But aye, th' kids around 'ere do make me feel me age. I dinnae know where they get tha' kind o' energy, especially after all th' thin's tha' 'ave 'appened."

"The resilience of youth." He smiled, and poked her very gently in the side. "And you are as beautiful and fascinating as you were ten years ago, let me assure you. I suspect you have a secrent mutant power that slows your aging, for how else to account for the phenomenon?"

A giggle escaped even as Moira batted at his hand. "An' yer as big a flirt as ye were th' day we first met," she scoffed, trying to protect her ribs from fingers that poked. "Which is why I love ye so much, I suppose. Even if ye do 'ave an uncanny ability ta find me ticklish spots. Another mutant powers o' yers, I suppose?"

"Sheer genius," he said modestly, leaning down to give her another hug, because you couldn't have too many hugs. "That's all it is, I'm just that clever. And I am, in fact, a bigger flirt now than I was. I was a wee monkey of two hundred pounds of solid muscle, then, not a mighty three hundred and fifty pound gorilla as I am now... although, naturally, a handsome and charming one." He winked at her.

Leaning into the hug, she winked back. "O' course. In yer old age, ye've simply grown all tha' much more charmin' an' 'andsome. Makes up for feelin' so old, I guess."

He laughed and hugged happily. "Now, no fair using charm on me. Charm is supposed to be my deadly weapon," he said sternly. "You are beautiful, fascinating, and have an interesting accent. Leave me my flowery compliments!"

Putting up a hand on her forehead, she sighed. "Ach, if'n ye insist. 'ow can anyone resist yer charms?"

"It always astounds me when they manage it, too." He laughed, and tickled her again just a little bit before letting go. "Now. Are you going to go and eat your chocolate quietly, perhaps engaging in a little light paperwork, or am I going to have to put you over my shoulder, take you upstairs, and force you to watch old movies with me to keep you from working?" He shook a finger at her sternly. "Don't think I won't do it, either. I'll have you know I have a will of iron when it comes to having fun."

Oh, so very torn. Moira had nearly forgotten that he liked to cheat when it came to things like this. "Hmm. 'ow 'bout we trade?" she said, grinning. "I do some paperwork tha' ye limit me ta an' then we watch a movie? 'Tis been ta lon' since we've done tha'."

"Oh, you drive a hard bargain..." Hank grinned. "Very well, you may have work AND movie. But only if you promise we can watch Casablanca."

"Twist me arm why dinnae ye." Standing up, she went on a impulse and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Glad ta 'ave ye back, old friend. I missed ye."

"Aww, shucks..." He sighed deeply and then winked at her again. "I suppose it's too late to convince you to run away with me to a little love-laboratory somewhere? We could have his and hers beakers and everything."

"So verra temptin' but ye'll 'ave ta beat off th' person who would set yer toes on fire." Moira shook her head, more relaxed that day than she had been in some time. "As much as I would like his an' her beakers...th' smell o' burned 'air tops tha'."

Hank looked down at his toes, apparently weighing his options. "I fear that having intact toes is a rather high priority," he admitted, grinning. "Very well. Instead of beakers, I'll just have to settle for picking out a gift of paperwork." He slid off the desk and bowed in a courtly fashion. "If you will lead the way to your desk, my lady, I believe there are a few items of paperwork already laid out upon it... well, to put it more accurately, I think there IS still a desk under the paper somewhere."

Groaning, she turned and headed out. "Killin' me, McCoy, yer killin' me."