The Stars At Northerly Latitudes

Note from Alicia: This is something Moira's player and I have been working on for a while; we decided it was entirely too much fun to let it languish unfinished so, well, we finished it.

Set about seven years prior to current game-time. Nathan's making his third visit to Muir, and Moira's very glad to see him. That doesn't mean they're not going to yell at each other. Not surprisingly, though, it's the things they don't say that are the most interesting.

---

It had been just a little over a year since Moira's last drink but sometimes, it was still hard to get by without it. Hands shaking a bit, she excused herself from the lab--Rory watching her leave as always--to get some fresh air. What a year, at that. Dayspring coming back, and being the reason for her giving up the bottle even if it had been by force sometimes, and he'd left again as quickly as he had came.

Rubbing her face, she enjoyed the cold wind as it swept up from the ocean. Winter evenings were some of her favorite nights on Muir.

Distantly, but audible in the clear, cold air, came the sound of a small boat approaching the island dock from the mainland. A tall, dark-haired man sat hunched over in the bow, his battered duffel back at his feet and his eyes locked on the figure he could just barely see out in front of the castle, and only because of the redness of her hair against the stone and faded colors of the island.

You'd think I'd called ahead, Nathan Dayspring thought wearily.

"Think o' th' devil," Moira breathed, peering down into the gloom in surprise. Well, he had said he'd be back. But he wasn't Charles or Sean, men she had known for what felt forever. While she did feel like there was a friendship with Nathan, she didn't know what to make of him at times. She smirked.

The reverse was probably true. Shaking her head, she headed down to the dock to receive him.

"Why do you look like the cat that ate the canary?" Nathan, when she got there, called out gruffly. He threw his duffel onto the dock and then hauled himself out. "Makes me think you're thinking ominous thoughts or something..." Okay, so he was overly tired and not making much sense. She'd just have to forgive him.

"Who said I wasnae?" she replied and then peered at him closely. "Ach, ye look like shit, man. Wha' did ye do, blow yerself up?" There was a pause. "Ye dinnae get shot did ye?"

"No, I did not get shot," Nathan said, wincing again as he leaned over to pick up his duffel bag. "Smartass," he accused her, not quite lightly. "If you must know, I crashed a helicopter."

"Give me tha'," Moira sighed, snatching his duffel bag right out from under him. She felt a small tug on it and matched glare for glare. "If ye even try usin' yer powers ta take this, I'll widen th' welcomin' committee an' ask Rory ta join us." Never had she seen two men actively dislike each other without doing something about it. She had, of course, seen Rory break Joe's nose before.

Nathan glowered at her, but let her take the duffel. She did get stupidly stubborn about these things. "Aren't you going to ask me why I crashed the helicopter?" he snarked, trailing along behind her and trying not to limp. "It's one of those funny stories..."

"Ach, I'll get right on tha', then, aye? An' what did ye pack in this thin'...nay, wait, dinnae answer tha'. I probably dinnae want ta know. So, was it a particularly bad crash? Ye look 'orrid." Not as bad as he had a year ago, she thought to herself.

"I'm just tired. Been a rough few months," Nathan said gloomily, looking up at the castle as they climbed the stairs. Part of him relaxed a little at the sight of it, and he breathed in deeply of the fresh air. "And I crashed the helicopter deliberately. Well, it was more like crashing one helicopter into another... but hey, telekinetic airbags..."

"...I can imagine." The look she sent him was softer than what she'd been wearing. "Wait, ye purposely...Nathan! Do ye always 'ave ta 'ave explosions? Tis some boy thin' ye 'ave goin'?" Moira nudged the door open and once Nathan was through, turned to reset the security code. "Yer room is still made up, if ye want it."

"It's a competition with Bridge," was Nathan's response. "Who creates the biggest explosions..." He wilted a little, though, at her last words. "Want it?" he asked more tiredly. "Does a man lost in the desert want a drink of water?"

"Han' on jus' a second, then." Shifting the bag over her shoulder, she quickly dialed up the lab where she and Rory had been workin'. "'ey Rory...aye, 'tis nay a new patient, jus' an old one. Aye, Nathan. Can ye set those samples up for me? I'll come check up on them in an 'our. ..." Rolling her eyes, she stuck her tongue out at the phone. "I know wha' bloody time it is, Campbell, an' I'll check them tonight, thank ye verra much. Insuffurable, yerself. Get ta bed." Turning back, she nodded towards the door. "Come on, then, let's get ye settled."

"I should have called ahead, I guess," Nathan said, trudging along behind her. "Given you the chance to let Rory break out one of the shotguns and chase me off... you know he's dying to do that."

"All th' shotguns are mine," she reminded him. "Which means ye probably should be worried more. Rory doesnae know which end o' a gun is which. He'll jus' glare at ye, sure ye've 'andled worse." Walking up these stairs suddenly made her realize how tired she was as well. Being since 4 that morning with a new patient made for a long day. "Bridge, hmm? Still wit' him? Ye mentioned him last night ye were 'ere."

"He's my self-appointed guardian angel. Or something," Nathan said sardonically. "You save someone's life and suddenly they think they need to micromanage yours. It's odd. Very odd." Although at this point, quite honestly, he didn't know what he'd do without Bridge. GW had a much better grasp on where work - good work, not scut-jobs - was to be found, and did a very good 'voice of reason' act. Not to mention that Nathan wasn't sure how well he'd be doing alone for extended periods of time. It all... caught up to him too quickly. "He wants to meet you, too. I told him I'd ask if you were up to an additional guest for a day or two if he swings by to pick me up when I'm headed out..."

"Well, I dinnae know if I've got th' space," Moira replied dryly, stopping for a second to turn around to face him. She blinked. The stairs nearly put her at eye level with him, not something she was used to. "O' course he's welcomed ta stay for a few days, sounds o' it bot' o' ye need a vacation." The one thing she had always been was truthful, even if it was a little blunt at times. "'ate ta say it but I'm surprised yer back. Pleased, but surprised."

"You did invite me back," Nathan pointed out, and then smirked. "What, you didn't expect me to live this long? Watch, or you'll start sounding like Campbell..." He really didn't know why he was needling her. Except that he was tired, and he didn't like the implication that he would have vanished back out of her life. Especially after he'd told her that he would come back. There were precious few promises he could keep anymore.

She glowered at him. "I patched ye up, ye arse, ye bloody well better 'ave lasted this lon'," she replied, hands on her hips. "Maybe because when ye left we were screamin' insults at each other?" For less than half a day, she'd been glad he'd left. After that...well. "'ornery old man."

"Old?" Nathan said, nudging her to continue up the stairs. "I'm what, a whole two years your senior, you wizened old crone, you?" Moira huffed at him and started to climb the stairs again. "Besides," he said, "you were asking for the insults. There was absolutely no reason to be that shitty with me just because I poured all your whisky down the sink and welded the wine cellar door shut."

"Perhaps yer failin' ta forget tha' ye also threw me inta a lake in th' middle o' January?" Moira asked, through gritted teeth. "Granted, a few mont's before tha' but I was sick for a bloody week after tha'! An' ye could 'ave told me ye were goin' ta do tha', I would 'ave given it away ta Billie an' tha' door...argh!"

"A cold probably did you good," Nathan said with a cheerful, brittle sort of ruthlessness. "Negative reinforcement for the behavior and all that. Or am I off-base? You're the one with the psychology degree..."

Turning sharply around the corner, the bag accidently caught Nathan in the ribs. "Ach, I'm so sorry, did tha' 'urt?" Moira asked, sweetly. "I seem ta remember throwin' up right on ye, tha' did, oddly enough, make me feel better."

Nathan grunted at the impact. "Yes," he said sourly, "you did take an unholy amount of pleasure in doing that. I was almost relieved when you did. At least you stopped shrieking at me for long enough to vomit."

"O' get off it, ye were jus' as bloody loud, if nay louder, bellowin' for 'ours at me. God, I think I still 'ave a 'eadache from tha't." Actually, now that she thought about it, she did have a headache. And when was the last time she ate. "Wha' time is it? An' o' course I did, ye were th' one tha' got me sick in th' first place."

"Oh, and you didn't take any satisfaction at all in mucking around with my medication to make a better cocktail, even if that left me puking up my guts for two solid weeks."

"Ahhh, 'appy memories." Pausing in front of the guest room that Nathan had stayed in last time, she fished out her keys and pushed the door open. "'ere's th' key, jus' give it back whenever ye 'ead out." Dumping the bag on the bed, she rubbed her shoulder. "Bloody 'ell, man. How 'as th' cocktail been workin'?" Moira suddenly looked concerned. "Yer jus' 'ere for a social visit an' nay because th' virus flared up, aye?"

"It's fine," Nathan said a bit vaguely, following her into the room. "Flared up a bit a few months ago, but that's because I caught some kind of damned Asian flu and I think it was too much for my immune system to handle. Went back to normal after a few weeks, though..."

"I told ye ta call if tha' 'appened," she sighed at him, sinking down into an easy chair. "Stubborn ta a fault, aren't ye?"

"We were kind of in the middle of things," Nathan said, sitting down on the bed and flopping back against it with a ragged sigh. "Plus, Bridge and I picked up a kid."

Jerking her head up, she stared at him. "A kid? How do ye 'pick up' a kid?"

"We were in Hong Kong," Nathan said. "There's this... I guess you'd call it an underground fighting circuit. Locals call them the fighting pits. Bridge and I were there to meet a contact, and one of the fighters..." He stopped, gazing bleakly up at the ceiling. "She's fourteen, maybe fifteen. Just this tiny slip of a thing, down there with a pair of knives, fighting two men that could have broken her over their knees like a twig..."

Moira looked outraged. "Oh my God, so youn'? A mutant? She'd 'ave ta be ta survive tha', especially if she's still wit' ye. How can anyone make a lass o' tha' age fight? Monsters." She looked suddenly very tired. "Makes me think tha' this place is one o' th' few good ones out there."

"Definitely a mutant. We tried to send her off to a nice boarding school-" There had to be good uses for the money he'd stolen from Mistra, after all. "-but she ditched the nuns and came back to find us." Nathan looked mildly perplexed and considerably frustrated. "I don't know what to do with her," he confessed to Moira. "GW and I don't precisely have the right kind of lifestyle to have a kid that age tagging along..."

"Next time ye stop by, brin' her 'ere? I cannae keep her 'ere for good, but it'd give me a chance ta look her over. I might have some suggestions. Wha's th' lasses power? An' name?"

"She just... has things fall into place for her. Probability-warping of some kind, maybe." They'd had a couple of similar powers at Mistra. "And her name... she goes by Domino. We call her Dom," he said with a wry little smile. "I don't know what her real name is. She doesn't remember life before the fighting pits... I guess she's been there for years."

"Poor kid. Aye, but brin' her by sometime. She'd probably enjoy it 'ere, nice an' peaceful." She grinned. "Most o' th' time, when th' head doctors arenae bein' tossed 'ead first inta lakes. So...why th' visit now?"

"I was tired," Nathan said, shifting a little on the bed. The edge of strain in his voice was suddenly impossible to hide. "I was tired, and I wanted to see you, and I was tired of running around blowing things up for questionable people."

"I'm glad ye believed me when I told ye tha' ye were welcome back any time," she said quietly, "even though I did 'ave ta repeat th' invitation several times." The first time Nathan had come to Muir hadn't been his decision, sick with the virus that nearly killed him. The second time, well, it hadn't been like he had had any other place to go.

"Oh God, I nearly forgot." Her mouth went into a sharp line. "Mistra sent some men 'ere a few month's ago, lookin' for ye."

Nathan sat bolt upright, shaking. "They--are you--" Of course she was all right. She was sitting right here in front of him. "Did they do anything?" he asked, trembling violently.

"They asked me where ye were." Moira tilted her head to the side and stared at Nathan. "I told them I 'adnae seen ye since they brought ye ta me doorstep themselves. They attempted ta get a wee bit...'eavyhanded, threats ta th' Facility. I threatened ta shoot them an' then call th' authorities if they showed up around me property again, disruptin' th' lives o' honest citizens. A minor telepat' was wit' them but ye're nay best friends wit' Charles Xavier for over ten years without pickin' up a few tricks. Poor boy 'ad me projectin' th' perodic table at 'im backwards in rhyme."

Nathan was up off the bed, pacing the room, almost before she'd finished speaking. "I shouldn't have come back," he said, still shaking and his words spilling over each other in a panicked rush. "Shouldn't have come back, they might know... I can't bring them down on you, I can't..."

"Sit down," she snapped, resisting the urge--barely--to throw a pillow at his head. "Ye'll wear a hole in th' floor, which is a feat given tha' 'tis made o' stone. I made it quite clear tha' ye werenae goin' ta be comin' back an' I think they 'ave enough smarts nay ta mess wit' me. I've got enough ties ta th' British government an' th' like tha' if somethin' were ta 'appen, people would notice."

"I won't risk it!" he shouted at her, panic flashing to anger in a heartbeat. "You don't have any idea what they're capable of doing!"

"I've got some!" Moira shouted back, heaving herself out of the chair. "I willnae let ye make tha' decision for me! Th' risks are mine ta take."

All Nathan could manage for a moment was an incoherent growling noise. "Gah!" he finally snapped, throwing up his hands. "You are so stubborn! If they show up and decide to raze this place to the ground, what then? Would it be all worth it, for the questionable pleasure of my company?"

"Oh would ye listen ta yerself!" Hands planted firmly on her hips, she leaned forward and snarled, "So bloody certain o' wha's goin' ta happen. Ye've nay any idea. An' who knows, it might verra well be wort' it if ye stop actin' like a hot headed bloody git!"

"I'm not hot-headed! I know what they are!" Okay, maybe he wasn't hot-headed but he was sounding hysterical. He sucked in a breath to continue yelling at her - and stopped, half-doubling over as his ribs protested loudly. "Nggh," came out instead.

"Shit." Well, that was an argument stopper. Moira approached cautiously as he sat on the edge of the bed, remembering all too well the first time she had touched him unexpectedly. Hands hovering right above, she sighed. "Let me see."

At first, he shrank away from her approach like a dog who'd been kicked a few too many times and no longer quite trusted human beings. Then he took a deep breath, then another, and nodded jerkily, moving his arm aside. "Two're broken," he said hoarsely. "The crash."

"Hrm." Kneeling, she moved as slow as possible so not to startle him. Gone was the anger and the irritation, replaced by concern and professionalism. Pulling up his shirt, she gently peeled down the bandage and winced at the coloring. "Shoddy bandage job," she noted. "In a bit o' a rush ta get 'ere?" Surprise color her words.

"I wanted to see you." His voice shook a little. "Not just to yell at you. Sorry about that. My manners go somewhere... far, far away when I'm tired. Not that I had many to begin with."

A smile peeked out. "I was goin' ta say..." Still careful, she replaced the bandages. "I'd normally take ye right down an' get those changed but ye look like ye could do wit' some sleep. An' ye 'ave been runnin' around wit' them like this. An' we bot' yelled, we tend ta do tha' wit' each other."

Oddly enough, Moira looked forward to some of their arguments. It was something that just happened.

"I suppose if they were going to puncture a lung they'd have done it by now," Nathan said with a certain amount of black humor, then shook his head at the look she gave him. "Joke. Really."

"Yer 'umor needs work," Moira remarked dryly, kneeling back. "Besides, I think yer to ornery ta be taken down by a broken rib. Or a 'elicopter."

"That's me. Impossible to kill." He gazed down at her, knowing he was staring, but she didn't seem to mind. "I missed you," he said, more softly.

The small smile grew a bit and she stood. "I missed ye two, arguments an' all," she admitted. "Th' place got real quiet after ye left." Laughing suddenly, she rubbed the back of her head. "Maybe because nay anyone was bein' tossed inta lakes..."

"I promise I won't do that this time," Nathan said, not understanding why he suddenly felt the urge to reassure her that he wasn't going to be such a bastard, arguing with her five minutes after he'd gotten off the boat or not. "A little lake-tossing goes a long way."

"Oh I know ye willnae do it again this time, because I promised ye a royal good dunkin' if it came ta tha'." Hesitantly, she sat next to him on the bed. "An' aye, it did. Been sober for a year now though 'tis still 'ard."

"I'm glad." And he was. He'd been afraid of what he'd find when he came back. But here she was. Looking tired, but... more centered, somehow.

"How're ye doin'?" There was nothing attached to it but they both knew what she was asking about. The first time he had shown back up on her doorstep had been right after Mistra and his family...

"I have... good days and bad days. Usually the good days are when I'm too busy to think about it much," Nathan said, his voice low but clear, even if he was speaking a bit rapidly. "Did you get any of my letters?"

"Aye, I did. I still 'ave them." She looked amused. "Yer a verra good story teller though God knows where ye find th' time ta write letters tha' long. I wish I 'ad a place ta send responses back..."

"I had to leave out details like that," Nathan said. "Wasn't sure they'd get to you. I just... I wanted to talk to you," he said awkwardly, "but I was worried about drawing attention to you. Or having them find me."

It was going to be a very long time, she realized, before he let go of that paranoia. "Well, get a PO Box or somethin' in th' Sudan," she told him. "I love th' letters..." There was a faint discomforted but small smile that she didn't see. "...but I'd like ta respond, ye know."

"I suppose I could set something up. Something secure. That could work." He tried to smile. "GW would have some ideas, I think. He'll probably laugh at me for being overly dramatic, though." His eyes were distant for a moment. "They don't see everything. They're not everywhere. He said that to me a few weeks ago..."

"He's right, ye know. They dinnae an' they're nay. 'Tis 'ard ta let tha' go, tha' they dinnae watch yer every move, I know. But ye will, one day, an' it'll be fantastic ta see it."

She looked so very earnest. Willing him to believe her, Nathan thought. "It's just hard," he said, his hand creeping out to cover hers, seemingly of its own accord. "They did watch everything for so long. And I don't feel like I'm free, you know." His voice was sounding a little strangled. "I just feel like I'm running. It's why I came back here, you know. This was the only place I could stop."

Moira froze for a second at the contact, it was unexpected but welcome. Carefully she turned her hands over and squeezed his, noting the wince but also that he didn't withdraw. "Yer always welcome 'ere, always."

"I was really hoping you'd say that." And he should have said more, told her just how much it meant to him that he could come here and know he was welcome, but his throat was feeling tight and he was skittish about the very idea of going there. Afraid of feeling too deeply about anything, so soon after he'd lost everything.

There was a feeling of him drawing away again and she let him, gently untangling her hand from his and standing up. "Always. But yer tired, so ye should sleep. I'll get ye up for breakfast tomorrow, aye?"

She stopped. "Unless ye want ta join me on th' roof?" she suggested. "I need ta unwind a bit an' th' stars are out tonight."

"I think I need to unwind too. Before I can sleep." Traveling still made him nervous, however careful he was. He rose slowly, straightening very carefully. "And the stars look different here," he said. "Less... light pollution?" There was a lot that was clearer, when he was here.

There was laughter at that. "We're miles away from a decently medium sized town," Moira pointed out as they left. "An' a storm rolled through a few days ago, so 'tis verra bright out right now."