Cain & Moira: Wednesday evening

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While she's at the mansion, Moira goes over to check on how her largest patient is doing. Coffee is had as well as discussions about joys and hardships.



Even though outside was cold, it couldn't beat Muir for freezing so Moira didn't have to bundle up quite as much as she had been doing. With things calming down in the MedLab, she felt she could escape for a little while and drop by on Cain. She felt rather guilty, he was going through a lot and she was his main doctor and she couldn't be there for him. Sighing, she rapped on the door and called out, "Cain, are ye up for company?"

Cain's ears perked up as he tried for the seventh time to turn his coffee maker on. "Doc?" he called. Sure, there were three in the mansion, but only one got the title when it came to him. As fast as he was able, he shuffled along to the door, using the wall for support.

Reaching out, he practically threw the door open, grinning down at Moira. "Doc!" he repeated. "C'm'in!"

Grinning up at him, she stepped inside and gave him a once over. "Yer lookin' better than when I left," was the comment before she decided to shock him one by giving him a quick, but gentle, hug.

Cain gently wrapped his good arm around Moira, squeezing carefully and pulling her to him. "Doc Bartl't says 'm makin' ... p-p-progr'ss," he spat out, trying unsuccessfully to get the words out easily. "C'n almos' get 'round th' house w'out fallin' now."

"Good!" Shrugging off her sweater, Moira hung it up. "Yer color's gettin' better as well. Nay longer th' color o' mashed potatoes. Speech is as well. Sorry I 'avenae been around much lately ta 'elp ye get through this." She noticed the coffee pot had been pulled out from against the wall and nodded at it. "Need some 'elp?"

"Please," he spat out, lumbering over to a stool and leaning roughly against the kitchen counter. "An' I know y'got work t'do. Ac'shlly, think was ... Nate that help'd mos'. Got... brain workin' th' hard way." Cain tapped his head melodramatically, remembering the strain that the brief mental link with Nathan had caused to his brain, but how much easier everything had seemed since. "He's doin' bett'r, too. Kick'd ... ass yest'rd'y."

"I'll 'ave ta ask 'im wha' 'e did, I know 'e did say 'e was givin' ye a 'and." Wandering over, Moira quickly started the coffee pot, gazing longingly at it. "I'm glad, I was rather worried 'bout ye for a while." She looked up and smiled at his last comment. "Aye, 'e is doin' better, gettin' 'is 'ead back on straight as well."

Cain grinned at that, nodding. "An' baby?" he pointed at Moira's midsection. "How's doin'? Tak'n care...y'rself?"

Automatically, her hand drifted down to her stomach and she nodded. "Aye, th' wee one is doin' jus' fine. Bizarre food cravin's, mornin' sickness, all normal." Thank God, no heart burn yet. "I probably really willnae show for a while, thank God."

Cain smiled at that, leaning over to accept a cup of coffee from Moira. Putting his neon green curly straw in, he took a long sip. "Mmm," he moaned in happiness, "'s good. Y'know," he added, "gon' have t' strap Nate down once... time comes. Excited poppa."

Really, mugging the half-paralyzed man for the coffee was a _bad thing_. Very bad thing. It didn't mean she wanted to do it any less. "God, dinnae remind me. I'm terrified o' seein' 'im as th' time comes closer. Man will never get ta sleep. An' I think 'e's overprotective _now_."

"Mebbe he'll sprain... brain b'forehan'. He's ov'rdue, ain' he?" Cain chuckled, the sound coming out like a rasping cough from a throat that still refused to cooperate. "Still. Nate's bett'r, Al'son's bett'r, ev'n 'Manda's doin' fine now. Three f'r one... s'good deal."

Crossing her fingers, Moira went over and settled herself on a kitchen chair. "'ere's ta 'opin' it stays tha' way. We've 'ad ta many scares right now, we dinnae need anymore. I'd like forever but I'll take a mont' o' nay serious injuries."

Cain solemnly put his hand over his heart. "I ain' jump'n' offa no cliffs, Doc. Swear." He tried another smile, taking a sip of his coffee. "Be honest, tho'... look'n forw'rd t' havin' y' back."

The smile on her face grew a little bit. "Aww, thank ye Cain. i've missed ye as well. An' I've really missed this place an' everyone 'ere. I really 'ope I'll be able ta come back for good soon."

Reaching out carefully, Cain patted Moira on the arm. "Me too, Doc. Me too."
"So what 'ave ye been up ta lately while I've been gone?"

At that, Cain chuckled. "Where t'start? Arg'in' w' Nate, tryin' t' tie m'own shoes, learnin' t' eat 'Ro's salad, an' teach'n' Jub'lee t' fix a door. That's... this week."

"...ye taught Jubilee ta fix th' door?"

Cain nodded. "Can' ver' well hold... screwdr'v'r at th' mom'nt. Her neith'r, so we kinda... coop'rat'd. Needed handle... could op'rate." He nodded to the front door, with the oversized lever for a handle instead of the round doorknob. "So's I c'n have more vis'tors, s'pose."

Peering over her shoulder, she took in the door. "Good job. An' more visitors are good for ye, it'll 'elp wit' yer speech. Like any other part o' yer body, th' more ye use it, th' better it'll get."

"S'what Al'son said," Cain answered. "She's help'n'. Her 'n' Doc Bartl't. S'jus' slow." The frustration was evident in his voice. Finally, he sighed long and low, shoulders hanging. "'s empty in m'head now."

Reaching over, Moira placed a hand on his arm. "Cain, are ye alright? An' I dinnae mean in th' physical sense. Ye know ye can talk 'bout it wit' me, aye?"

Quietly, Cain placed his other hand on top of Moira's. "'s hard," he explained, "learnin' t' react... norm'lly. T'people, things. Ain' always angry no more. 's diff'r'nt. Hard'r. Kinda like..." he tried to remember the analogy he'd used for Nathan, "hav'n'... headache? F'r long time. Then... not. Y'get used t'it. Miss it kinda."

"Aye, I know exactly wha' ye mean," she replied quietly. "I was like tha' for a while after stoppin' th' drinkin'. Got so used ta 'ow I felt while I was on it, or needin' it, tha' it felt like there was a 'ole there. But yer doin' so verra well, Cain. Makin' leaps an' bounds. I know 'tis feels like yer inchin' by but ye really are makin' progress."

Dropping his forehead to the counter, Cain clenched his arms over his head, almost hiding. "Not s'posed t'be so hard," he spat out. "Shouldn' miss who... was. Horr'ble p'rson. But wasn' cripple. Wasn' inv'lid needin' doctors ev'ry day. Wasn' so damn weak."

Quietly, she went to his good side and placed her arms around him in a semi-hug. "Nay weak," Moira stated, knowing he wasn't talking really about physical weakness. "Th' fact tha' ye've made it this far speaks so much for 'ow much ye want ta live an' tha's a strengt' some people jus' dinnae 'ave. An' yer nay goin' ta be crippled forever. I can see ye makin' a full recovery. Aye, it'll take time but ye've got friends ta 'elp ye through it."

Cain slumped over, trying not to put his weight on Moira. "Prom'se?"

Leaning her head on his shoulder, she smiled at him. "Promise."