blue_ajah | (no subject)

(no subject)

She wakes early enough that it is still full dark outside, although the first stirrings of birds hint at the dawn to come.

Some few minutes later, Moiraine is seated at the small table in her kitchen, a cup of tea steaming untouched near to hand as she looks out the window, watching the trees and waiting for enough time to pass that she can make a phone call without waking the person she wishes to reach... and without disturbing his morning meditation session.

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She closes her eyes briefly, remembering, and then meets his gaze once more.

"Even then."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I believe," she says, with careful deliberation, "if he intended to be ... possessive, he would not have offered to depart if I did not wish to speak."

"He would not have offered to leave Milliways as it currently is, if I were to be... troubled... by his renewed presence there."

Her fingers are trembling. She flattens them against the fabric of her dress.

"He would not have asked if I was satisfied with my life here, and accepted my answer."

Cooper doesn't reply immediately.

Then: "If he knew how you felt -- couldn't that just be part of some premeditated plot?"

A faint smile curves her lips.

"If he did not know of Tarmon Gai'don, I doubt very much that he knew how I felt in this."

Cooper blinks.

"That," he says, faintly, "is a valid point, Moiraine."

She spreads both hands very slightly, palms upward.

He wants a cup of coffee. He wants to finish that coffee that is cooling down in the mug on the counter.

And he doesn't trust himself to be able to pick up the mug without spilling the contents.

Cooper doesn't quite meet her eyes when he says, "I've made progress, Moiraine, but I'm still very afraid of him. He killed my mother. He nearly killed me. I -- can't just dismiss that."

Pause.

"As much as I might want to."

As much as I might want to.

She thinks of Lan, and cracks in a wall. She thinks of Nynaeve.

She thinks of the scent of napthalot, and of the red rage of Nyarlathotep.

"I understand," she murmurs. "Please believe that, Dale. I do understand."

A beat.

"It was not kind of me to bring this to you before dawn, it occurs to me. I am sorry, for that."

A small, rueful, near-absent smile, and he doesn't look at her as he picks up the cup of coffee anyway.

(His hand doesn't shake.)

"I'm sorry I'm not a braver man, Moiraine."

She shakes her head.

"You are one of the bravest men I have ever known. You have nothing for which you need apologize to me."

Moiraine glances at the cup in his hand.

"Would you prefer fresh?"

"No. Thank you. This works well."

It's cool enough that he can drink it faster, anyway -- and this isn't a moment during which he can sit and savor his beverage.

He drinks.

Without looking at her: "Moiraine, your feelings are reciprocated. They've been reciprocated for quite some time now. So I think I owe you an apology after all. And I am sorry. Very sorry."

Would it have made a difference if one of them had spoken sooner? She has no way of knowing.

All things are --

"All things are part of the Pattern," she murmurs, very softly. "Thank you. For telling me."

Cooper rubs his forehead with his free hand.

"Look, Moiraine -- can we talk later? Tonight or later this week?"

Because once upon a time, Morpheus told him that he had no reason to be frightened of Dream -- or at least no more so than any other creative person.

And Moiraine says that there were things Morpheus didn't know.

And it's not even six in the morning and Cooper hasn't had a full cup of coffee yet. He has to think this through.

She nods.

"Whenever you wish."

"When's good for you tonight?"

He takes another drink of coffee. "I'm off at three, barring emergencies."

"I am to hear stories over coffee with Major Briggs this afternoon," Moiraine replies, after a moment's consideration.

"Perhaps six, or any time after that?"

"Six works well."

He'll be a civilian then. He never feels like a civilian in this uniform, which he supposes is as it should be. "And I should catch up on paperwork -- I'm Harry's point man with the BLM and ATF, and that arson case isn't going to solve itself."

"It is going well, at least, I may hope?"

"There are communication issues," Cooper says, succinctly.

Cooper hates the BLM and the ATF. It is mutual. And yet he's the one in the department who can speak federalese most fluently -- and he knows it.

"They'll be resolved."

Or else.

"I am certain that they shall," the Aes Sedai murmurs.

"Someday, perhaps, I shall tell you of how Rand al'Thor resolved certain communication issues between the Houses in Cairhien."

"Is it a tactic I can use with the ATF?"

Perfectly tranquil, she replies,

"It depends on what their reaction might be to you burning the paperwork submitted by all parties involved in the situation at hand."

Very seriously:

"Moiraine, that may well be a felony."

"Then it seems likely that it might not be the best option for you in this matter."