(no subject)

[inthetapestry]

Dave knows by now the way that Kim likes her coffee - strong and black, staple of med students everywhere - and he's got it boiling as he waits for her to show up at the apartment.

The cautious way she sounded on the phone, he thinks it might come in handy.

Comments

[bannion_sight]

She hesitates before knocking at his door, her hand raised in midair.

How can-- do I really want to do this?

But she's come too far to turn back now, and so Kim eventually raps on the wood-- once, twice, and three times, in quick succession.

[inthetapestry]

Visitors can always hear Dave coming to open the door long before he reaches it, as his bulk passes over the old and slightly creaky wooden floorboards.

(Which is not to say he can't move quietly. He can. But he needs a reason to do so.)

Finally, the door swings open. "Come on in," he says, with an abrupt gesture.

[bannion_sight]

"Thanks," Kim says, smiling as she moves past him through the door.

"It's good to see you."

[inthetapestry]

"You, too," Dave says, following her.

If he were a natural gallant he'd add 'as always', but he's not. It's true, though.

[bannion_sight]

"How are things going at work?"

She keeps going toward the kitchen, simply to have something to do.

[inthetapestry]

"It's not bad."

Dave shrugs, and moves over towards the pot of boiling coffee. He pours two mugs and then turns around to hand one to Kim.

"You know how it is when you're low in the pecking order. Give it a few months and maybe I'll have something interesting to tell."

[bannion_sight]

She smiles in thanks and wraps her fingers around the mug as if to warm them.

"I'd be surprised if you didn't, honestly."

[inthetapestry]

"I'm not much of a storyteller," Dave says, slightly awkward, and settles himself onto the chair opposite. He doesn't look quite the right size for the furniture.

[bannion_sight]

"Neither am I, right now," Kim says, ruefully. "I wish I was."

[inthetapestry]

"Guess you've got something to tell, at least."

[bannion_sight]

"I guess I do."

Kim looks down at her coffee, unable to meet his eyes.

"I just don't know how to say it."

[inthetapestry]

Dave looks at her.

"I get enough fine print and subtext at the office, Kim. Just lay it out for me."

[bannion_sight]

"I'm, um."

She takes a breath and lets it out slowly, then looks up at him.

"I'm leaving."

[inthetapestry]

Dave's hands, wrapped around his mug, tighten reflexively. He blinks.

"Leaving?"

[bannion_sight]

Kim nods.

"Moving. To England."

[inthetapestry]

"- did you see something?"

Dave's associations with England are - specific.

He leans forward over his mug, brows knit together, and says, more slowly, "Are you going back?"

[bannion_sight]

"Not -- well."

Her words are slow and haltingly uncertain, but there's a soft weariness underlying them.

"Not the way you mean, no. I'm not going back to Fionavar, Dave; I don't think I would, even if I could."

I don't think I would, anyway.

"But I can't -- it's not the same here as it was before, not for me. I don't... I don't fit any more."

[inthetapestry]

- oh.


Dave stifles his first response, which is that of course she doesn't. (Neither of them do. Does she think she's the only one?)

"So you're . . . moving to England. To get away from here."

He's trying to make it fit. Put it together in his head.

Why should there be easier than here, particularly?

[bannion_sight]

"It's not that-- I don't want to get away from anything, Dave."

There's anguish in Kim's voice now.

"I'm going to Glastonbury. It's -- it's as close as I can think of, as close as I can find, to being like -- like somewhere that --"

She looks down at her hands.

"-- well. You know, I think. Don't you?"

[inthetapestry]

"Maybe," Dave says. More than a little reluctant. "I don't know. It's not -

"Shit. It's just - I don't think there's a somewhere that brings it close. You know?"

He doesn't flinch, as he looks at her and says, "Just a someone."

[bannion_sight]

Her head snaps up, and she stares at him, wide-eyed.

[inthetapestry]

"I wasn't -"

Dave speaks slowly, thoughtfully, chewing over each word.

"I didn't change the same way as the rest of you all did. I changed. Different ways. Didn't feel the distance the rest of you did. But I left part of me behind there, like you did, and took things back with me I can't tell anyone about. Can't show anyone. You're the only person who -

[bannion_sight]

"Dave, I didn't mean that you--"

There's distress in the clear gray eyes, distress in her voice.

"-- that you didn't, that you weren't--"

[inthetapestry]

"I know."

Dave holds up a hand. "I'm not trying to make this about me. Just mean that - well."

He shrugs, more awkward than ever.

"You can't talk to Glastonbury Tor. Or you can, but there's no one there anymore to listen."

[bannion_sight]

"... no. I guess there's not, is there?"

No one but ghosts, and memories, and memories of ghosts.