And the Truth Shall Make You Free
It's close to 2AM when Meg finally gets home, and the house is dark except for the single light coming from the kitchen.
She has never, ever, done anything like this before. Meg didn't miss her curfew, called when she was running late, left detailed notes on where she was planning to be and when and with whom. Tried never to let her parents wonder and worry about her, especially after Kim . . . well, after there was enough to wonder and worry about there without Meg's adding to it.
John Ford looks up when his younger daughter lets herself into the house, relief clear on his face.
"Are you all right?" he asks.
Meg nods. "I'm fine. Where's Mom?"
"She went to bed. I said I'd stay up."
"Oh." So much for worrying, then. "Well, I'm sorry you had to," Meg says, still hovering near the door.
"Do you want to talk about it, Meg?" he asks.
"I . . . don't know," she says. "Maybe."
"All right," her father says.
Meg stands thinking for a moment, then leans back against the door. "What has Kim told you, about what happened three years ago, when she went away?" Meg asks.
"That there was something she needed to do, something involving . . ."
"All the weird stuff from Mom's family?"
"Not exactly how I would have phrased it," John says. "But the same idea, yes."
"And that's all?"
"And that it was important."
Meg hesitates, and then sits down at the kitchen table. "You're going to think I'm crazy," she says.
"I doubt that."
"No, you will," Meg says. "I mean, I know how this is going to sound. I thought Kim was crazy, when she told me."
John gives her a long, careful look. "Told you what?"
Meg doesn't exactly answer the question, not right away. "Do you remember when I had that date with Derek, and then you were worried that something had happened, because I was so . . . ?"
John nods. "Yes, I do."
"Well," Meg says, "something had happened, but it didn't involve Derek."
John takes a slow breath. "What did it involve?"
"I think we're going to need tea," Meg says.
It takes a long time to tell him all of it, but she does. All of it. What happened on Kim's first visit in a year and half, and what Kim told her then. Everything she heard later from Kim, and from Kim's friend Paul. All about Milliways, and its habit of turning up when she tries to do laundry or go to the library. About the people she's met there, and the places she's gone from there. (Except . . . she doesn't mention Castiel. Some things are . . . sacred. She thinks that's the word she wants.) And about all her conversations there and in Toronto with her sister.
John interrupts a few times, asks for clarification, but mostly he lets her talk, and looks a little more worried and a little more worried as she goes.
"I told you that you would think I was crazy," Meg says, when she's done.
"It's quite a story, Meg."
"I know. And I know it's asking a lot to ask you to believe me. But it's the truth, and I'm glad I told you. I've never liked having to keep it from you."
John studies his daughter from across the table. "I'm going to have to think about all this," he says.
But the choices basically boil down to believing that Meg is telling the truth, or believing that his hyper-rational, ever-so-very-logical, neat and orderly daughter has had a complete psychotic breakdown.
Meg's not sure which of those he'd actually prefer.
"Of course you are," Meg says. "I'd be worried if you just said 'okay.' But that . . . all of that . . . is why I don't want to see Kim when she comes. I'm out of things to say to her. I've tried. I'm done."
John sighs. "All right. I'll talk to your mother. If you really don't want to be here--"
"I really don't."
Her father nods. "All right," he says. "But you and I will talk again."
"Whenever you want."
Her father gets up, setting the tea mugs in the sink, and Meg is stuck by the fact that he suddenly looks older.
No. He suddenly looks old.
"Meg," he says, turning around and leaning back against the counter. "What you said earlier . . . we don't wish you were more like Kim."
"I know I disappoint Mom," Meg says.
"You mother loves you very much."
"I know. But I still disappoint her," Meg says. The two aren't mutually exclusive by a long shot. Look at Meg and Kim.
John Ford bends to kiss his daughter's forehead. "Believe it or not, we're very proud of the fact that you're Meg."
Meg would really like to believe it. She just isn't sure that she does. But all she says is, "All right."
"Get some sleep," John says. "It's very late."
Meg smiles slightly. "Or very early." She hugs him a little too tight for a moment. "You should get some sleep, too," she says. "Good night."
She has never, ever, done anything like this before. Meg didn't miss her curfew, called when she was running late, left detailed notes on where she was planning to be and when and with whom. Tried never to let her parents wonder and worry about her, especially after Kim . . . well, after there was enough to wonder and worry about there without Meg's adding to it.
John Ford looks up when his younger daughter lets herself into the house, relief clear on his face.
"Are you all right?" he asks.
Meg nods. "I'm fine. Where's Mom?"
"She went to bed. I said I'd stay up."
"Oh." So much for worrying, then. "Well, I'm sorry you had to," Meg says, still hovering near the door.
"Do you want to talk about it, Meg?" he asks.
"I . . . don't know," she says. "Maybe."
"All right," her father says.
Meg stands thinking for a moment, then leans back against the door. "What has Kim told you, about what happened three years ago, when she went away?" Meg asks.
"That there was something she needed to do, something involving . . ."
"All the weird stuff from Mom's family?"
"Not exactly how I would have phrased it," John says. "But the same idea, yes."
"And that's all?"
"And that it was important."
Meg hesitates, and then sits down at the kitchen table. "You're going to think I'm crazy," she says.
"I doubt that."
"No, you will," Meg says. "I mean, I know how this is going to sound. I thought Kim was crazy, when she told me."
John gives her a long, careful look. "Told you what?"
Meg doesn't exactly answer the question, not right away. "Do you remember when I had that date with Derek, and then you were worried that something had happened, because I was so . . . ?"
John nods. "Yes, I do."
"Well," Meg says, "something had happened, but it didn't involve Derek."
John takes a slow breath. "What did it involve?"
"I think we're going to need tea," Meg says.
It takes a long time to tell him all of it, but she does. All of it. What happened on Kim's first visit in a year and half, and what Kim told her then. Everything she heard later from Kim, and from Kim's friend Paul. All about Milliways, and its habit of turning up when she tries to do laundry or go to the library. About the people she's met there, and the places she's gone from there. (Except . . . she doesn't mention Castiel. Some things are . . . sacred. She thinks that's the word she wants.) And about all her conversations there and in Toronto with her sister.
John interrupts a few times, asks for clarification, but mostly he lets her talk, and looks a little more worried and a little more worried as she goes.
"I told you that you would think I was crazy," Meg says, when she's done.
"It's quite a story, Meg."
"I know. And I know it's asking a lot to ask you to believe me. But it's the truth, and I'm glad I told you. I've never liked having to keep it from you."
John studies his daughter from across the table. "I'm going to have to think about all this," he says.
But the choices basically boil down to believing that Meg is telling the truth, or believing that his hyper-rational, ever-so-very-logical, neat and orderly daughter has had a complete psychotic breakdown.
Meg's not sure which of those he'd actually prefer.
"Of course you are," Meg says. "I'd be worried if you just said 'okay.' But that . . . all of that . . . is why I don't want to see Kim when she comes. I'm out of things to say to her. I've tried. I'm done."
John sighs. "All right. I'll talk to your mother. If you really don't want to be here--"
"I really don't."
Her father nods. "All right," he says. "But you and I will talk again."
"Whenever you want."
Her father gets up, setting the tea mugs in the sink, and Meg is stuck by the fact that he suddenly looks older.
No. He suddenly looks old.
"Meg," he says, turning around and leaning back against the counter. "What you said earlier . . . we don't wish you were more like Kim."
"I know I disappoint Mom," Meg says.
"You mother loves you very much."
"I know. But I still disappoint her," Meg says. The two aren't mutually exclusive by a long shot. Look at Meg and Kim.
John Ford bends to kiss his daughter's forehead. "Believe it or not, we're very proud of the fact that you're Meg."
Meg would really like to believe it. She just isn't sure that she does. But all she says is, "All right."
"Get some sleep," John says. "It's very late."
Meg smiles slightly. "Or very early." She hugs him a little too tight for a moment. "You should get some sleep, too," she says. "Good night."