Nathan and Moira, Friday afternoon

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Bye, bye, traction! Nathan gets re-accustomed to the whole concept of mobility, and he and Moira make some plans for when he gets out of the medlab at the beginning of the week.


It was really kind of ironic. He'd been counting the days... okay, the hours until he got out of the damned traction rig, and now that he was? Really wasn't all that enjoyable. Nathan gave a brief, sardonic smile, and carefully raised one arm, holding it several inches off the bed for the count of five, before he let it sink back down to the bed. Took entirely too much effort. Although, what had he expected? Not having moved at all for three weeks, really... of course moving now wasn't going to be a whole lot of fun.

It was so nice to be able to turn his head, though.

From the doorway, Moira watched him for a second knowing that he knew she was there. "Am I sensin' a pout on its way?" she called, smiling a little as she walked the rest of the way in, tucking her hands into her pockets. "Ye'll get yer strength back soon enough, love." There was a small grin making its way out. "I'll be runnin' yer physical therapy, after all."

The sardonic smile turned warm before he could stop it. "I remember you, and what you call physical therapy," Nathan said wryly as she came over to the bed. "Not just from last May, either. That was a cakewalk compared to what you put me through back when I first got the virus." He gave her an innocent look. "I bet you can offer better incentives this time, though..."

A laugh escaped as she bent down to kiss him gently. "Mmm, probably. Doesnae mean I'll let you take me up on them–right then. I can be so mean when I want ta be."

"Evil, heartless woman," Nathan agreed happily, and managed, before she straightened, to reach up a very unsteady hand and touch her face, just for a moment. "Been waiting to do that," he murmured.

Moira closed her eyes for a second and then wrapped her hand around his. "I know," she soothed, smiling at him again. "How're ye feelin'? Th' weekend wasnae a good one for ye, this I know."

"Better. Was much better when Hank told me that was for sure all the surgery that was going to be neccessary," Nathan said, still smiling as she held onto his hand. "And so much better knowing I'm going to be out of here on Monday. Back to our own bed..."

"Good. For bot', I've missed ye upstairs somethin' fierce. Bella is nice but she's nay th' same. An' ye dinnae eat me hair." She stuck her tongue out at him at his laugh. "Well, she does."

"My poor ladies... both of you. Left to your own devices for three whole weeks," he teased gently, then grew serious again. "Hank gave me a bit of a lecture about how I didn't get to overdo it just because I was out of the medlab. To be honest, right now, I'm not feeling all that ambitious anyway. Although I might feel differently when you let me try out the wheelchair tomorrow. Mobility will be fun."

"I want ye ta promise me ye'll nay get inta any wheelchair races wit' Charles," Moira warned, trying not to laugh at that particular mental image. "Ye'd bot' end up killin' yerselves. An' good--ambitious is good but nay when it could possibly land ye right back here."

"No wheelchair races. Although I reserve the right to make jokes about it... everyone always cackles at the mental image." He flexed both hands carefully, then raised the other arm, wincing a bit as the burns on his shoulder protested. "It'll be good to be able to type again," he said. "I might be able to do some marking. Or, you know, some emails to florists and the like." He gave her another innocent look.

The smile on her face widened at that. "I knew there was a reason I was marryin' ye," she teased, a hand going to trace his jaw. "Besides th' whole bein' sexy thing. An' the whole baby thin'."

"I know. You have a list." He raised the other arm again, held it, then let it rest against the bed again. Moira smiled. "I was thinking about wedding rings," he said, then very gingerly tried moving his left leg. Which really didn't want to move, at all. He didn't want to think about how much muscle mass he must have lost in the last three weeks. "I could do something interesting with wedding rings..."

Moira oohhhed slightly and raised her hand to gaze at her engagement ring. "If it willnae wear ye out," she warned, but he could tell she was thoroughly taken by the idea. The fact that he was willing to make the rings made her all bubbly inside. "O' course they'd match..."

"That'd be the general idea, yeah," Nathan said, giving a defeated grumble. His leg really didn't want to move, and it hurt, more than a little, to try. "But we'll see how long it takes me to get the TK back in shape, I suppose. Worse comes to worse, we can always have an actual jewelry designer do what we tell him to. Or talk nicely to Lorna."

"We're already talkin' nice ta Lorna, remember?" Moira reminded him, sensing his frustration. Moving the covers back a bit, she gently started to massage the muscles, working on them in a way to get the blood to start circulating again.

"Right. Can't presume too much on her good nature, I suppose..." Nathan looked at Moira thoughtfully. "I don't want to know how much weight I've lost in the last three weeks, do I?" he asked wryly.

"Probably nay," she said, cheerfully, feeling the muscles twitch and pull under her hands. "But dinnae worry, ye'll get it back in time an' wit' trainin'. Ye tend ta bounce back quickly, which is in yer favor."

"Solid food," he said mock-dreamily. "What a concept." He gave her a curious look. "And why are you so obsessed with my gray hair lately? Are there more of them?"

"Umm...maybe?"

He summoned up his best charming grin. "It's a good thing you find it as attractive as you do, then, isn't it?" She chuckled softly as she moved back up the bed, and he managed to reach out and take her hand again. "These last couple of nights are going to be the longest, you know," he said. "Even if I'm out of the cage. Because I'll know that come Monday night I'll be sleeping beside you where I belong. And so the weekend is going to last forever."

Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, Moira pulled Nathan's arm across her lap. They hadn't been able to be this physically close in weeks because of his injuries. "I miss ye," she told him, squeezing his hand. "An' yer right, th' weekend is goin' ta drag on."

"We'll have to make plans. I mean, something fairly sedentary, and this is assuming I don't get out of here and keep sleeping eighty percent of the day away..." He paused, thinking. "DVDs?" he suggested whimsically. "You and me and the bird and a big bowl of popcorn... well, I suppose I'm not going to be up to popcorn for a while yet, am I? Hank was saying some fairly appalling things about what my excuse for a diet is liable to be for the next several days... but you could eat the popcorn, and I could just have the aroma for atmosphere."

"Bella will probably eat most o' th' popcorn," she said, laughing. "An' aye, I like tha' idea. Troy jus' came out on DVD apparently, we could spend th' evenin' mockin' it like we 'ave wit' th' other ones like it."

"Oooh." Nathan's eyes brightened. "Bad historical movies with the most beautiful woman in the world. There's my idea of a well-spent evening." He squeezed her hand with all the strength he could muster. Which wasn't much. "I love you," he said, more softly but very, very vehemently. "I wouldn't have made it through these last few weeks without you." There had been times these last three weeks that he'd laid here, trapped and immobile and in constant pain, and felt that he was reaching the very end of his endurance. If it hadn't been for her and the link, and her absolute conviction that this experience, miserable as it was, was finite...

"I love ye ta," Moira said, pulling his hand up to her cheek. Everything was going to be alright now, she told herself.

And no matter what else he had doubts about, Nathan was bound and determined to make sure that for the two... no, three of them, that it would be. "Speaking of bad historical movies, I have more incentive to get on my feet - we need to be able to go to 'Kingdom of Heaven' and laugh our asses off at it," he said cheerily. "Of course, there's the downside of having to deal with all the little Orlando Bloom fangirls... I'm torn."

"We could always mock them as well?" she offered, teasingly, as she grinned over at him. "Because wha's better than mentally mockin' th' fangirls, hmm?"

"Pair of nasty old cranks, we are..."