InsaneJournal

"Do you want a drink, Doctor?"
Who: Moira, Wrex
What: Wrex is horrible at asking girls out on dates.
When: Following directly after this log.
Where: Urdnot Ranch
Ratings/Warnings: PG-13 for awkwardness and the condom speech
Status: Complete!



It took awhile, but they got Alma calmed down, and Moira sent her off with some advice, and a few pamphlets. Moira loves her pamplets, you see. But now she was alone with Wrex, and she turned to regard him.

The man had settled back behind his desk, finally giving in a bit to the despair that had permeated the room, earlier. He'd forgotten what he'd meant to say to Moira on his own, only that he'd meant to talk to her about something or other.

Instead, he reached his hand out to the bracelet on the desk, and lifted it up to inspect it, "What kind of world are we living in when a bracelet is the only thing that can give a 16 year old girl that kind of hope?"

Moira didn't respond, her eyes locked on the bracelet. It was a fair question, and one she didn't have the answer too. What kind of world, indeed? Moira almost felt guilty for crushing that hope. The despair had been palpable.

What other life had Alma lived?

"What I wouldnae give tae make that nae so."

"I do all this, try to change kids' lives. The best I can offer her is a zen garden. She literally thinks she's a threat to world. I can't find enough to say to make her feel better half the time."

He couldn't even find things to say that were true, except to keep fighting for what you want to be, instead of what the dreams tell you you are. Maybe that was advice he needed to be taking, himself.

His face looked like a puppy that had been kicked, when he finally set the bracelet back down, "Do you want a drink, Doctor?"

Moira shook her head. She couldn't believe that was the best they could offer that poor girl. But she did give Wrex a tight smile. She wanted to give him a hug, but that would be unprofessional. It was hard not to flirt with him, but that 'no' tattoo'd on his ring finger was a dead give away that that wasn't an option.

It was a little disappointing. She liked him, she liked his work with kids. She liked how he treated Alma.

"Tell me ye have scotch?"

There was probably a time in which Wrex would regret that tattoo.

He liked her, and he had no idea how to say that or what to even do about it. Right now it seemed kind of stupid to bring it up, in the wake of everything going on with Alma.

He unlocked a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a bottle of Scotch, "Imported Scotch. From our home country, even."

"T'best kind," Moira agreed. A genuine smile crossed her lips as the room warmed up to a normal temperature, and down to a more normal level of emotions. She hoped that girl's zen garden was a very good zen garden.

In a way it reminded her of her wee bairn. Not the woman she raised in this world, but the scared mutant in the other.

"I think ye do good by her. Ye give her somethin' she needs, that she hasnae had in the past. It takes a special kind o'man tae do that."

"Well, I don't know about that." Wrex shrugged his shoulder, and pulled out two glasses. He set them on the table and unscrewed the cap, lost in thought for a few moments.

He poured her glass first, and slid it across his desk for her, glad that the room had warmed up a bit. Then he ducked his head, "What she needs is stuff I can't provide, but I knew that going in. I mean ... she needed a normal life. She didn't get that, and it's too late to really change that."

"She needs to know she won't become the thing she remembers herself being in another life," He added, in a whisper, "Do you get those dreams?"

Taking the glass, Moira sniffed it, and looked pleased with the offering. It was good scotch, and she was sharing it with a Scottsman gentleman. She took a sip, while Wrex spoke, and kept her eyes firmly and evenly on his own.

From the way he'd asked, she was sure he had some sort of dream as well. It was a level of trepidation she didn't expect from the man, so she felt like she had to answer honestly, "Och. Aye. I'm still a doctor. A scientist. My primary field is genetics. A special sort o'genetics."

Mutants, X-Men, Legacy. It was too much in one telling and there were too many gaps. But she'd accepted it, as easily as she'd accepted Rahne.

The evidence was in front of her eyes, "Tae tell the truth, I usually cannae wait tae get tae sleep. There's sae much I still have tae learn, an' see from these dreams. Things that can help, as terrifyin' as they can sometimes be. For the lass, maybe it's a warnin'. A chance tae not become that thing."

"I dream," he said, hesitantly, "Of a world with lots of aliens. The technology is more advanced. Space ships, stuff like that. I'm... well. I'm a big angry alien there. I'm not the only one dreaming of that place, either."

He took a long sip of his whiskey at that point, sure that she'd be perfectly okay with his need to have a drink after recounting all of this. It sounded a lot crazier than what she was talking about, at least what she'd vocalized to him, but he felt like he needed to explain.

"I told her the dreams weren't real, because there was no way in hell anyone could really be a big angry alien, and that seemed to make her feel better. But I really am - there's ... evidence that says so, sitting in my closet. And if I really am what I am, then she really is what she is. And all I got right now that says her story is going to end any differently than how it did for her is that I'm here to tell her it won't."

Moira didn't appear to be phased, though she gave a thoughtful 'och' or two as Wrex spoke. Aliens, advanced technology...Kitty had told her of those things and it wasn't out of the realm of possibility they spoke of the same place, just different memories, or even times.

And then there was the analyzing device that had appeared in her lab. Moira nodded her head, and took a longer sip of her scotch, "She has me, too. An' the people here at this ranch. I think t'thing we need tae realize is there will always be things tae fear from these dreams. Godlike psychic powers, angry aliens, viruses targetted tae cause a genocide. I look at them as a warnin' an so should ye."

"We had a genocide, too. Kind of. My species, they're too dangerous. Big angry aliens, running rampant around the galaxy. Made people nervous. So they fixed our birthrate... it's a long story. Turns out I'm steril in this life, too."

That last bit had flown right out of his mouth unchecked, and he frowned when he realised he'd said it, "... you didn't need to know that. I don't know why I mentioned it."

"Och..." Moira didn't really know what she should say to that. She didn't know the full story, but that didn't mean she couldn't sympathize. She blinked when he admitted his sterility, "I'm sorry, Wrex. Ye do good by these kids, it's a shame ye cannae have ye own."

"Yeah, you're not the only one who thinks so." He shrugged his shoulders, "But hey. That's a lot to talk about. And it's a lot to tell someone who you barely know."

"I'm a doctor, lad. I hear worse an' have tae tell worse, every day." She reached across the table and patted his hand, "It doesnae make this any less than it is, of course. But I dunnae mind ye tellin' me about. Sometimes it's better tae say it than keep it buried inside."

He held up his hands, "I dealt with it a long time ago. Really. I think I'm at that point where the dreams are making my real life make sense. You know. It was never my fault, it's just that I'm a big angry Kroger."

Moira laughed, then covered her mouth, "Kroger? Like the grocery store?"

It was the first thing that came to mind. An angry, rampaging grocery store, having gained sentience and threatening the galaxy. She calmed down and sobered up pretty quickly. This was no time to be having such silly thoughts, "Do you wonder if that's what led ye tae this line o'work?"

Wrex actually cracked a grin, "Yeah, Kroger. Like the grocery store. The first time Shepard mentioned it, I thought 'like the pancake mix?'. They have instant blueberry pancake mix, I used to buy that all the time."

Back when he had a house with a picket fence and a dog. The wife got all of that in the divorce.

He hadn't really thought about it in a while, and wondered why he was thinking about it now. His lips thinned into a line, and he took a long drink off his scotch. Then he looked at her, "Look, Doc. I don't know how to do this. I've been off the market for years. But I like you. You're a nice lady. You do good things. You're the only medical professional Alma would let within 30 feet of her."

The wife got the pancake mix? Harsh.

Moira smiled back at him, "I want tae help her. An' help ye out, if I can." She probably could. There were advanced treatments, experimental ideas. Given enough time, money and effort, she could probably devise a way to knock up a woman with another woman. A bit of sperm issues wouldn't be a problem.

"So is that why ye asked me here, lad?" Her eyes twinkled mischeviously.

The wife got everything at the house, including his favorite old leather jacket. And the pancake mix. It was truly horrible.

"Well I asked you here because of her. I wasn't lying about that. But. Do you want to..."

He trailed off and leaned back in his chair, "Coffee. You like coffee? We could go ... somewhere, and get it."

Moira smiled at him, eyes falling to his ring finger, "Are ye askin' me on a date, Wrex?"

She was touched, but she was also worried. She was too bloody old to get involved with something with emotional issues around women.

But coffee could be harmless.

He didn't have emotional issues around women, he just had ex-wife issues. There was a difference!

"If you don't want to go, after all this." He smiled a bit and waved his hand around, "I get that. It's a lot to take in."

"Nae! Nae, I want tae go. How does tomorrow afternoon sound?"

"I could make some time for that. Before I try and find something for her to wear, and get her ready for this thing. That's what I'm supposed to do, right?" He sounded completely unsure of his role, now that he was in it. Was any parent really sure?

"Aye, it is. An' threaten him at gunpoint tae."

"I would really like to do that, but I already gave him a dressing down in here before you showed up. He's one of mine, so I think he knows what's coming to him if he pisses me off."

Moira smiled, "Och, that's really good. Did ye supply her with condoms, just in case?"

Wrex almost blushed a bit, "Condoms? At her age!?"

"Wrex, t'thing tae learn about lads and lasses," Moira replied, with great patience. "Is that ye can tell them up down an' sideways 'nae ye can't' an' they'll still find a way. It's best tae give the more sensible one condoms jus' in case an' avoid any unnecessary pregnancies, than stick ye head in t'sand." She firmly believed this, "Tell her t'dangers an' ups an' downs, but prepare her."

Wrex's elbows dropped to the top of his desk, and his head planted itself on his hands, so that he could let out a very long, face-palming sigh. What she was saying was completely right and made sense, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He ran his hands through his hair after a minute or so, and nodded, "I'll call you about that coffee. I think tomorrow I need to have a talk with her. Maybe over the weekend or something, when things aren't as ... crazy and teenage hormonal."

Moira gave him a pitying look as she stood, "Yuir dealin' with teenagers, it'll always be hormonal."

"... okay, recovery coffee. Saturday afternoon. Moral support for me and my inability to let go already. This kid's only been mine less than a week."

"She'll turn eighty an' ye'll still want tae keep her under ye wing." Giving him a reassuring smile, Moira picked up her bag and turned to go, "I'll see ye Saturday, then!"

He got up and started escorting her out, like a gentleman aught to do, "I'll see you Saturday. ... and Thanks. For everything."

Moria squeezed his hand, and then departed!