"You're early."

"Why waste time?"

"That is precisely the question I am here to ask you. You know why I'm here." His tone was assured, but not quite arrogant enough for her to respond harshly. "I did write to you several times. I had hoped we could resolve this at a distance. This trip -" "Was very expensive, yes. So you keep saying. I didn't know the Ravenshires were so concerned about their pocketbook."

A flicker of anger passed over her uncle's face. "It's the time, Moira. Not the money. I don't like to waste my time any more than I like to see you waste yours, and that's all that you've been doing for the past three months."

Wick stared at him coldly. "I've completed my training. I've even been assigned a laboratory post a year ahead of schedule. What are you talking about?" She knew damn well what he was talking about, but she'd make him say it. Her attempt to throw him off guard failed. "I'm talking," he replied steadily, "about your husband." "And what about him?" she asked in an icy voice, her eyes fastened on Adrian's. Go on. Say it.

Adrian was unfazed. "He's left you, Moira."

And there it was.

Her fingers dug into the upholstery of the chair, and her mouth tightened. "And?"

For a moment he looked non-plussed. "You haven't divorced him."

"No."

"And you think he's going to come back."

He studied her with an infuriating amount of pity that made it obvious what his opinion of that possibility was, and she glared at him. How dare he come here to meddle in her affairs? He knew nothing about their situation, nothing. He didn't know Jor. He didn't know her. How dare he presume to understand her motivations? How dare he pretend to know what Jor would and wouldn't do?

"I hardly see how that's any of your business," she replied through gritted teeth when she was certain that she wouldn't scream it. "He hasn't filed for divorce. Why should I?"

Adrian looked at her for a long moment, and Wick suddenly feared he had an answer to her question.

The doorbell chimed as dinner arrived. There was a small intermission for her to regain her calm as the dishes were arranged and the delivery person sent on his way, and she and her uncle sat across from one another. The food smelled wonderful, but she didn't even pick up her fork. Instead, she watched him eat for almost thirty seconds before he acknowledged her stare. Once he did, he took a draught from his glass and set it down with care before speaking.

"He's on Elisabeta, Moira," he said softly. "He shipped out the same day you had your...disagreement." Wick stiffened, but didn't respond. She hadn't known where he was; somehow not knowing had been better; it had made his absence a little less real. She wondered how much Adrian knew about their disagreement. She wondered if he knew why Jor had left her. Then she looked at his eyes, which had suddenly decided to travel away from her face and take in the room, and she wondered what it was he was leading up to. Her mind ran through a quick list of possibilities, but balked when she tried to place any of them into reality, and she clung to the arms of her chair and waited.

"My brother-in-law is stationed on Elisabeta," he continued slowly. "There aren't many Windhavens in the service; your husband was easy to locate." He paused, and his eyes locked with hers. "He has requested a permanent post on Elisabeta, pending his completion of the training pre-requisite." Her heart froze and sank.

"He's taken a lover."

She stopped breathing.

Her immediate reaction was disbelief, but there was nothing in Adrian's expression to indicate that he was lying. Her second reaction was nausea, a rapid twist of her insides that made her swallow hard and gasp for air. For once in her life, Wick was completely insensible of hiding her reaction, and she wrapped her arms over her stomach and dug her fingers into her sides. She shook, but her face could not reflect her emotion, and remained almost blank.

"Are you sure?" she asked in a wooden voice.

Adrian watched her in concerned fascination. "Her name is Heather."

Anything else, any other response and she might have been able to convince herself it wasn't true, but a name was far too real to be considered false, and Wick folded in half, her breath fast and shallow. She was too furious to cry, too shocked and in too much pain. Fire laced through her veins and made it impossible for her to unfold, and the next thing she was aware of was kneeling on the floor, curled over her stomach, with her uncle beside her, and the feeling of his hand resting lightly on her back.

Her vocal cords returned to her control, but her voice was scratchy and raw.

"Don't touch me."

The hand retreated, and Wick sat back on her heels and taught herself to breathe again. Her uncle didn't interfere, and after a few minutes of silence she was able to unfold her arms, to reach to her left hand and remove the ring from her finger and clench it in her fist, staring straight ahead of her at nothing, the nothing she now knew she'd have to face.

"I'm not going to divorce my husband, Adrian,"she said without emotion. "I will come back to Earth. I'll do whatever else you ask of me." She turned and met his eyes, so close to her own, and let him see her resolution. "But I won't divorce him, Adrian."