Kim Ford

It's just as well that she's sitting down, Kim thinks, as the rush of relief that surges through her at this is staggering.

"Oh, thank god," she whispers, closing her eyes.

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"You done good, Kim."

And for all the casual ease of his words, Kevin's expression is tight, watchful.

"Now we've just got to keep it up."

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"So -"

Dave eyes Kim, warily, but forges on with his question.

"Sorry, guys, but I'm lost. How the hell did you get back to Fionavar without Kim?"

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"I did it," Paul answers, quietly.

"And before you ask, no, I don't know how, and I can't duplicate it any more than Kim can. I had to get Jaelle to send us back."

It still rankles, a little.

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"And Paul's not the only one who can cross," Jennifer puts in steadily.

It's a dim surprise to her how easy it is to say the next thing, here in this mild grey country to which she has now come.

"Galadan was here."

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Kevin startles, almost forgetting that he has nothing to lean back against.

"What?"

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Paul nods.

Matter-of-factly: "He came to kill me, if he could. Jen, also, although -"

His gaze flickers to Jen, and back to Kevin.

"She wasn't his primary target. For which we can be thankful."

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"You were."

Kim's gaze is direct, as direct as her words.

"Why?"

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Paul's gaze darkens, for a moment, blue-grey eyes turning steely.

"I am his to kill," he answers, simply, "as he is mine."

The third time pays for all.

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Kevin just looks at him.

"If you die again, Paul, I'm calling the third time for myself."

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Dave is feeling a little creeped out. Possibly it shows.

"So," he interrupts, too loudly, "is he still here? Is he going to keep trying, or what?"

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"He followed us back to Fionavar."

Paul's answer is calm and even.

"I don't think he'll try again here; don't ask me how I know, but this isn't where our next meeting will be."

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"Next, or last?"

Kevin eyes Paul narrowly, then shakes his head, holding up one hand.

"Never mind."

He doesn't really want to know.

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She just looks at Paul, and there's something disconcerting about the sudden weight in that clear gray gaze.

"Okay," she says, with a bit of a twist to her smile.

Kim, after all, knows more than a little about certain knowledge that can't be easily explained.

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Paul holds Kim's gaze for a second; then, abruptly, turns to Jennifer.

"Okay, Jen - you want to take it from here?"

His voice is quiet; not pushing. If she says no, he'll go on.

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She turns her head to regard him, and nods, once.

"The crossing brought me early to my time," she says quietly, to them all. "My son is born, and he lives."

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Kevin's voice is quite pleasantly conversational.

"I don't know whether to be relieved or more than a little sick."

His expression reveals almost nothing as he looks at Jen, then closes his eyes.

"I can't imagine how it must be for you."

He opens his eyes, and there are no tears, but the memory of such great terror and such fierce anger.

To this I will make reply although he be a god and it mean my death.

"I'm sorry, Jen. So damn sorry."

It will never be enough.

Never.

There is no recompense for a hurt that runs so deep, none.

But he can give her this. He can--he can not give voice to the question that burns in his throat.

But he is not only your son, Jen. Oh, God, how could you let him live? How could you?

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"No. You can't."

It's said flatly, unwaveringly so, and without room for compromise of any sort. Jennifer Lowell holds her head high and proud as she looks right back at him.

In her eyes, however, the difference is clear. They're kind again, with the child gone from her-- no longer hard and brittle as ice, as they had been before.

"I know." A beat, and a breath, and then she says the rest of it. "But I don't blame you."

"Any of you," she adds, looking around at them all, now.

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It's only when she sees black spots in front of her eyes that Kim realizes she is quite literally holding her breath.

Don't you have any idea how he's feeling? she had shouted at Jen, some months back, before it became painfully obvious that the other woman would no longer speak of Fionavar-- or of Dave, or Paul, or Kevin. Perhaps especially Kevin, who had tried to reach out with flowers.

Don't you care?

Jennifer hadn't, but that was before the child had been born. Now-- everything seems so fragile still, but it's no small grace that her friend is here beside her, in the world once more-- and now this.

She doesn't know what to say, and so Kim Ford says nothing.

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Kevin is still looking at Jen, just looking, as it has been long and long since he's been able to catch a glimpse.

He loved her once, so much, and loves her yet, though it is nothing like the same, was nothing like the same even before the lecture, and the crossing, and everything that came after.

And there is still so much yet to be done.

"Well, if that part of things is over and done with," he says slowly, at last, "is there--is there anything else we need to know?"

He spreads his hands, almost helplessly, looking to Dave for a second or two, searching for something familiar in amongst so much strangeness and pain.

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Dave - solid as ever, confused as ever among events that feel increasingly too large for him - doesn't intend to say anything. He doesn't know what to make of the child, doesn't know what to think -

- and so it's with some surprise that he hears his own voice ask, "Jen - where is he now? Your son? Is he - with someone?"

The question's awkward, as usual; as usual, Dave can't say what he really wants to say, which is: it's awful for a kid to be raised without love.

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Paul jumps in, with a warning glance, before Jen can answer.

"He's with a woman who'll care for him - the fewer people who know where, I think, the better."

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Jennifer gives Paul a very long look, but when she turns back to Dave, her eyes are kind, and she is even smiling, a little.

"He's being taken care of, yes. She'll take very good care of him, I think -- it's why I chose her."

A hesitation and then she tells them, all of them,

"His name is Darien."

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Darien.

She had dreamed it, had seen a golden-haired young man with brilliant blue eyes in the middle of a wood somewhere that she's never yet walked, and had known his name then with a Seer's deep and certain awareness.

Hearing it said is different, though. It's real-- her dreaming had come true, and even though she'd known it would, still, hearing it said gives her something of hope.

"Darien," Kim says softly, as her gaze goes unerringly to Paul.

"It's a beautiful name."

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