OOM-but-not, Milliways Infirmary
[After this.]
Kim's hair is pretty unmistakable. Meg can, therefore, spot her sister from the doorway, and is about to go over to her table, when Kim gets up and heads for the infirmary.
Meg stops, and stands, and watches. Kim's back may be to her, and they may be able to count in days -- rather than months or even weeks -- the time they've spent in the same place at the same time in the last three years . . . and Meg can read her mood anyway, from the way Kim holds herself and the way she moves.
There's a moment's hesitation, and then Meg follows her sister into the infirmary.
With almost anyone else, Meg would opt for the somewhat less presumtive is everything all right?
But with her sister . . .
"Kim? What's wrong?"
Kim's hair is pretty unmistakable. Meg can, therefore, spot her sister from the doorway, and is about to go over to her table, when Kim gets up and heads for the infirmary.
Meg stops, and stands, and watches. Kim's back may be to her, and they may be able to count in days -- rather than months or even weeks -- the time they've spent in the same place at the same time in the last three years . . . and Meg can read her mood anyway, from the way Kim holds herself and the way she moves.
There's a moment's hesitation, and then Meg follows her sister into the infirmary.
With almost anyone else, Meg would opt for the somewhat less presumtive is everything all right?
But with her sister . . .
"Kim? What's wrong?"

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It only takes a moment to find a plastic cup, and a box of tissues, and bring both over to Kim.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?"
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At Meg's question, Kim chokes out something that resembles a laugh -- barely.
"I'm not sure I even know how to begin."
Not where, not if; how.
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Then stop.
"Wherever that is, and however long it takes, because neither of us has anywhere else we have to be right now."
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After a minute, she takes one of the tissues and begins to draw it through her fingers, twisting and pleating it over and over again, looking down at it as she does.
"You know a lot of it already. The things that'll be important to understand first, I mean." She glances up. "Who Galadan is. What it means when I say someone is one of the andain-- like Darien was. Right?"
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"I've met him. Here."
If that's going to be relevant in anyway, better to tell Kim now.
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"... oh."
She laughs again, short and wry.
"You know, somehow that doesn't surprise me. Given who he is."
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For whatever that's worth.
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"He was here tonight. With news."
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"What news?"
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"He told me that another one of the andain had been born. A little boy, named for my friend Kevin."
She takes a breath. Lets it out.
"He's Dave's son."
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And then, "Oh."
And finally, "Oh, Kim."
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"I didn't know," she says, perhaps unnecessarily.
"He came home, and he never said anything about it."
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For a moment, she's silent, because all she can think is that she would quite believe they have, in fact, tumbled down the rabbit hole.
It seems utterly surreal that only days ago Kim was laughing and blushing and describing Dave as steady and someone you can trust with anything.
"I . . . I'm sure he didn't mean . . . " Meg trails off, because she's bad at saying things when she doesn't know they're true, and she doesn't know Dave, doesn't know what he may or may not have meant.
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That, at least, is certain. Kim sighs.
"I just wasn't expecting..."
She trails off there for a second or two, and eventually adds,
"... and I'm going to have to tell him. About Galadan."
And that she knows, of course; that part will be pretty obvious, when it comes down to it.
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It's too big a secret to keep.
"I don't think there's any way you could have been expecting something like that," Meg says.
"What about Galadan?"
She's trying to keep up, but she can't quite.
And she's a little distracted now by being worried about Kim.
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She pushes her hair back from her face and gives Meg a rueful look.
"It -- well, at the time, it wasn't really my business, you know?"
A beat.
"As for Galadan, um. He's the Lord of the andain. Which means he'll be -- Kevin will be his responsibility, one day."
In a very real sense, he already is.
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Meg trails off again, and then sighs.
"All right. And what does 'his responsibility' mean?"
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"I don't think anyone knows, exactly. Except Galadan. And the andain themselves."
A long, long pause.
"Whatever it is, I think ... it won't be simple."
Her breath catches, and Kim brushes a hand across her eyes, wiping away the treacherous tears that are threatening once more.
"But at least he won't-- he won't be alone."
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"Nothing about that place sounds simple," Meg says, half to herself.
"Should I ask what part of all that is the reason you're as upset as you are?"
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She dries her eyes, then looks back at Meg.
"Sort of all of it together."
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"Is . . . is there anything I can do?"
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Kim leans forward and takes Meg's hand, squeezing gently.
"And I'm so glad you did."
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"Any time," she says, simply.
Whatever else they are or aren't still working out . . . some things are bigger.
And then you just need your sister.