xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, sometime in the middle of the night (Reply)

Nathan wakes up in the medlab. Moira, of course, is there.

It was just a little crash. As if someone had dropped something, not all that heavy, on the floor. He heard a familiar voice swear, and the weariness in the curse was enough to make him frown and struggle further out of the dream, much as he wanted to stay there and win the chess game. Tim always gloated so shamelessly when he won...

Tim. Anguish stirred amid the haze and he opened his eyes, tears stinging them already as he blinked up at the ceiling. As the world slowly resolidified around him again, he realized that he still couldn't move. He couldn't even turn his head in the direction Moira's voice had come from. Breathing hurt, but the pain felt very slightly distant. Painkillers, he thought dimly. Lots and lots of painkillers.

Plucking the damned stethoscope off the floor, Moira noticed Nathan starting to wake up. Tossing the now forgotten piece of equipment aside, she rushed to his side. Gently stroking his hair she murmured, "Shh, 'tis alright Nathan, relax, dinnae fight it, jus' come back up gently." She was tired and exhausted, mentally and physically.

At least the crying jags were over with for now.

He tried to say her name, but he seemed to have no voice. And he couldn't move, couldn't reach out to touch her and make sure she was real. Tears slid helplessly down his cheeks as his vision came more into focus and he saw how exhausted she looked, how sad. #I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...#

#Oh baby, none o' that.# Leaning down, she kissed him gently and gave him a shaky smile. #Wasnae yer fault, at all. Ye all did wha' ye could, love. An' in the end ye won.# With such a cost but there was no more Mistra. No more ghosts at the door, in the shadows, or in their dreams. Or wouldn't be after the trauma wore off.

Strength glowed down the link, pure and strong and loving, despite her weariness, and Nathan closed his eyes again, helpless to stop the tears, feeling vaguely panicky at not being able to move. #Thought it wasn't enough... kept falling, Moira, and they kept getting past me... I had to keep them back, I had to, but there were so many...#

Sending soothing thoughts towards him, she reached down to grip his hand. #But it was enough, in the end. Ye found th' strengt' an' ye beat them all, Nathan. They're done for, completely.# She hesitated. #An'...they would 'ave been proud o' ye, love. I know I am.#

More tears. He just couldn't keep them back, for some reason. No more walls left, they'd all come crashing down, and he was so tired, hurt so much on levels the drugs wouldn't touch. #Happened too fast... Tim just... fell, and Mick... I couldn't do anything. I couldn't help them... Ani?# The question slipped out before he could stop himself, part of him wishing desperately that he could take it back, because if she hadn't made it, if she was gone...

But the answer reassured him. #Nay ten feet from ye, love. She's 'avin' a 'ard time o' it but she'll pull through. Th' 'ealin' factor was almost overloaded but 'tis still workin'.# That was, actually, the ONLY reason Anika was currently alive, Moira reflected. Had she not had the healing factor, she most certainly would have died. #We're 'avin' Kyle donate blood for 'er.#

A long, shuddering breath escaped him. Ani was still there. She'd be all right. She'd be all right. Thoughts of Ani led to thoughts of someone else, and he pushed the question down the link. #Kyle... tell Kyle? Tell him, it's done... no more white room?# Someone must have thought to do that, surely. He closed his eyes, feeling dizzy, as if the telepathic conversation was sapping what little strength he had. #Felt it all unravel,# he sent hazily. #But so many were broken already, and then there was just nothing...#

#Kyle's been told.# The drugs were kicking back in, Moira, who'd turned up the morphine drip, reflected. It was getting obvious. #Ye did all ye could, Nathan. All ye could. Ye must be so tired, though, right now, after all o' tha'.#

#Sleep?# he sent disjointedly. Scared of the idea, for some reason. If he slept and they were there, then part of him wouldn't want to wake up, and he was tired, so tired of fighting...

#Ye will wake up, Nathan Dayspring, or I swear I'll come in there after ye. I made this link, remember?# Part of that had trickled over and it scared her so much that those thoughts were there.

#Tomorrow,# he thought hazily, part of him registering the fierceness of her presence suddenly and relaxing, just a little. If it hurt too much to come back on his own, she'd help him. He should have known that. #It's tomorrow... is it?#

#Aye, 'tis tomorrow,# Moira confirmed, double checking to make sure his vital signs were still strong.

#Still here.# He'd wondered about that. Whether he was real, without Mistra. But he hurt, and he loved, and that was all the proof he needed, he thought, the dichotomy making perfect sense to him at the moment.

#Still 'ere, alive an' on th' road ta bein' well. An' we're still 'ere ta.# Leaning closer, Moira brushed a hand against her stomach and then reached out and took his hand, smiling down at him. #We'll always be 'ere.#