OOM: Visit to Toronto

[noteful]

It's been so long since she called her sister that she has to look up the number.

It's a wonder Kim doesn't decide it's a prank call and hang up, in the silence that stretches between "Hello?" and "It's Meg."

It's a very short conversation; Kim was right, this isn't the sort of thing you discuss over the phone.

It's an understatement to say that John and Deirdre Ford are surprised when Meghan announces she's like to go to Toronto on Saturday to see her older sister.

"I just need to talk to Kim," Meg says, and that's all she offers by way of explanation. She can tell they're trying to be pleased or hopeful, but are actually kind of worried. Still, early on Saturday morning, her father drives her to the station, kisses her cheek and tells her to have a good trip, and waves through the window as the train leaves.

Two years ago -- maybe even one year ago -- a trip to Toronto to see Kim would have been cause for excitement and celebration and Meg would have chatted about it with the conductor and the man with the snack trolley and the woman across the aisle, would have willed the train to go faster.

But today . . . today she's silent, except for a perfunctory exchange of greetings with the conductor when she hands over her ticket. She sits, and wonders when trains started going so fast, and the closer the train gets to Toronto, the more tense her shoulders get, tight and defensive, like she's expecting someone to hit her. And, despite the fact that she brought a book to read, she just watches out the window.

A landscape viewed from a train is a curious thing. You can get a good look at things only when they are far away. The things that are right up next to the tracks flash by too quickly, you're past them as soon as you've identified them, and if you try to focus on any one thing, you miss a dozen others.

But distance from a thing gives you time to see it. Perspective.

Of course, distance creates its own problems, too.

This may yet be a terrible idea.

Kim's directions are clear and precise, and Meghan has no trouble finding her way from the station to the cafe at which the sisters are meeting. She hesitates, though, before she squares her shoulders and pushes open the door, scanning the tables for that white hair she still has to consciously remind herself Kim has now.

Comments

[bannion_sight]

She winces, laughing.

"Ouch. I'd hoped you'd forgotten that one."

[noteful]

"No such luck. Sorry."

Meghan doesn't forget much.

That's part of the problem.

"How does Bran Davies fit into that whole story?"

[bannion_sight]

Kim's smile fades.

"Um."

She takes a careful breath, glancing around to make sure that there really isn't anyone in earshot.

"It's a little complicated. Um. You know he's from a different world, right?"

[noteful]

"Different Earth, right?

"God, that sounded even stranger than it did in my head."

[bannion_sight]

"A different Earth, right."

Kim's smile flickers, but not more than that. This, then, will be the true challenge -- this part of the story, which Paul had left for her to tell.

And rightfully so, she thinks, even as the weight settles back on her shoulders and on her heart. Rightfully so; even as she had summoned the Warrior, so she should carry the responsibility as well of bearing the tale to those who must hear it.

Including her sister.

"Bran's... pretty special, Meg. He's got a -- I guess you'd call it a distinguished lineage, or something of the sort."

[noteful]

"Okay," says Meg slowly, fairly certain that it would never have occurred to her to use the phrase 'distinguished lineage' at all, let alone for someone she knows.

[bannion_sight]

"He's ..."

A pause, and Kim wraps her fingers more tightly around her coffee cup.

"Did he ever mention that he was adopted?"

[noteful]

Meghan shakes her head.

"I don't think so. No."

[bannion_sight]

It figures, she doesn't say.

Kim sighs.

"He, um. He is."

There's a beat of silence before she adds, very quietly,

"His mother's name is Guinevere."

Oh, Jen.

"And his father was Arthur Pendragon."

[noteful]

There's a very long moment in which Meg can't manage to do anything but stare.

"You mean . . . you mean swords in stones and round table and holy grail Arthur, don't you?"

[bannion_sight]

Kim nods.

[noteful]

She's trying -- oh how she's trying -- to say this as calmly and nonjudgmentally as she can.

"But . . . but, Kim, that doesn't make any sense. He's from the 70's. In Wales."

[bannion_sight]

"I know," she says, quietly. "Believe me, I know. But it's true. As for the rest... you should probably ask him."

"But the reason I mentioned it in the first place-- you see, it matters. It matters very much."

[noteful]

If she ever sees him again, she will.

And for now, even though she's still very much at this doesn't make any sense, Meg will go along with it.

"All right."

[bannion_sight]

"And the reason it matters is that--"

It's never going to get easier to say, Kim thinks, but at least she's getting better at finding the words.

"-- we knew war was coming to Fionavar. We needed help."

A beat.

"We needed the Warrior. Arthur. And I was the one who summoned him."

[noteful]

"You took King Arthur to . . . "

Meg trails off, because a veyr large part of her brain just rebels at having to finish that sentence outloud.

The more of this story she hears, the less she understands it.

"They don't have warriors in . . . "

[bannion_sight]

"They do. He was different. He was the Warrior."

There's a certain weight to the way she says the last word; an unusual timbre to her voice.

"Who always died, and was never allowed to rest. He was needed... and I brought him."

[noteful]

Meghan doesn't like the timbre -- it's yet another reminder of just how much she thinks these two have changed, how little they know each other.

"I . . . I don't know what I'm supposed to say here. Or to ask. Or . . ."

[bannion_sight]

The distant look in Kim's eyes clears, and she shakes her head quickly, refocusing on her sister.

"It's all right," she says, gently. "It's all right, Meg. You don't have to say anything, or to ask anything either."



"But you asked how Bran was involved with all this, and that's how."

[noteful]

"Thank you."

It's been bothering her.

Well, it's still bothering her, but no more than any of the rest of the story now.

"I . . . I think maybe . . . I still don't know what to say, Kim. And I really hate not knowing how to talk to you."

[bannion_sight]

She's quiet for several seconds.

"I guess it's just going to take some time."

[noteful]

"Yes," says Meg. "It is. And probably a lot of it."

[bannion_sight]

The silence that descends is awkward for a brief moment before Kim says, with determined brightness,

"Well-- it's been a while since you've been in Toronto for the day, I know. Is there anything you'd like to do while you're here?"

[noteful]

There's an easy answer here -- name a museum or something, spend the afternoon in meaningless conversation about whatever topics the surroundings provide.

And it's tempting. It's really, really tempting.

But . . .

"Do you think, maybe, you could ask me what I've been doing for the last year and a half. I mean, I'm sure Mom and Dad have filled you in on most of it, and it's certainly not other-world-in-peril interesting but . . . I think I'd like to tell you anyway."

[bannion_sight]

It takes a second, but only that, and Kim's eyes are suspiciously bright when she says,

"I'd very much like to hear, Meg."