InsaneJournal

she ain't heavy...
Who: Karin and Fiona
What: Fee goes to Karin's for a visit; disturbing revelations ensue.
Where: Karin's apartment, then a food co-op, probably.
When: 9/10/2011, afternoontimes
Warnings: Sisterly banter, then angstin' what their mama gave them...
Notes: Completed log from GDocs!

Fiona Shepherd believed there ought to be more banisters in this building.

In the house she and her sisters had grown up in, there’d been a banister, all right. A long, steep one that curved around. Fee had broken her first bone flying off of it, her wrist when she was seven. Everyone was grateful she could still dance; young Fee was glad that it hadn’t been her drawing hand. And even though that cast had been the worst exercise in restrictive torture known to man (at least in the world of young Fee), as soon as it was off (before, actually, but no one knew about that), she’d clambered back onto that banister and flown down it as quickly as she could. For a few brief seconds, as her hair whipped around her head and she sped in that downward slope, it felt almost like flying.

Pax, though, didn’t have those kinds of banisters. The stairwells had railings, sure, but they were firmly attached to concrete walls and the railing in the middle was made of metal and wasn’t even vaguely rideable. So instead of sliding down to her sister’s floor, which seemed a lot faster and more convenient, she just walked down, her casual cool never betraying that longing for a little rush.

When she got to Karin’s, she let herself in with the key her sister’d given her, and when she heard the shower going, she made a beeline for the fridge. It was just the disappointment she should have expected, but she had been hoping there’d be a chocolate chip granola bar or something like a decent snack. She heard the water turn off and she yelled, “I’m in the kitchen, Kar,” so her sister didn’t try some crazy jiujitsu shit on her when she mistook her for an intruder in the apartment.

Thinking maybe there was some organic rice milk ice cream or something in the freezer, she started rooting around in there.

Karin came upon her as the rustling of Ziploc bags began to wane, her resident pilferer having realized, presumably, that their contents were invariably vegetable or organic, free-range or wild-caught animal in origin, with not a drop of dairy, sugar, or excess fat among the lot. For a moment she stood in the doorway, shaking out the last loose tangles from her damp hair, watching her sister continue her fruitless search. The sight caused a sharp, involuntary pang somewhere deep inside her chest, something melancholy and old; her brow furrowed as she immediately chastised herself for the groundless feeling. In an effort to better ward off the sensation, she stepped into the kitchen, striking up conversation before more of the same - or worse, God forbid - sprang up.

“I put some Oreos in the top cabinet for you,” she said, the sound of her smile ringing effortlessly in her voice. “Well. They’re the Newman’s Own kind, but it’s the same thing, really. Better, even.” She draped the towel loosely around her neck, padding silently up behind her sibling. “I don’t think I’ve even opened them.”

Immediately, Fiona abandoned the cabinet she was mining for, turning on a dime with a huge smile on her face. There was something in Karin’s - well, not her voice, but something in the way she was standing, something in her face, her eyes - that said everything wasn’t as it should be. But that was for later - or maybe just to keep a close watch over for the time being. Meanwhile, she threw her arms around her sister, giving her a big kiss on the cheek.

“Have I told you lately that you’re the best big sister on the planet? Like, seriously.” Just as quickly, she pulled away from Karin, moving to the cabinet she’d just abandoned to shut it, then reaching up to the cupboard that hid her prize. Once she’d retrieved the bag of cookies, she turned back to Karin as she pulled it open.

“Thanks, Kar,” she said as she took a bite from one of them. “Mmm... these are pretty good...”

Fee contemplated her cookie for a second before remembering herself. “So what’s shaking with you, sis?”

Karin shrugged, reaching a pale hand up to settle her thick terrycloth robe back over her shoulder. “Work,” she said, hoping the stresses inherent to her job, of which Fee was quite familiar, would explain the black smudges beneath her eyes, the lackluster glint within their green depths, the lifeless pallor dulling her skin. “You know how it is in summer. So many drunk drivers, and overdoses, and fights...” She gave a mirthless laugh, shaking her dark head. “We’ve even had more shark attacks than usual, even in the bay, close to the island. It’s crazy.”

Again she shook her head, shuffling over to Fee’s side. She reached across her sister to pluck a cookie from the pack, peckishly nibbling at one small end. “What about you?” she asked, one brow quirking. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The bites Fee took were more like chomps than her sister’s delicate nibbles, and the first cookie she’d taken was long gone. She’d taken another, though, and this one she’d twisted apart. It was poised in front of her mouth, ready for a lick, when Fiona gave Karin the side eye.

The summer was always crazy; as long as Karin had been in nursing, even as a student, there were more injuries to tend, more messes to clean up. In a way, it was perfect for Kar, but in another, Fee knew it took it out of the eldest Shepherd girl. But this seemed like more than that - something that went bone deep, instead of just the usual work thing. Fee licked her cookie.

“First of all, you’re sidestepping by asking about me. Which is cool and all, but I’m just saying. It’s been duly noted. I just wanted to come visit you and see how you’re doing. Haven’t seen you around much this summer, and I miss your face. You don’t have the market cornered on sisterly concern, you know?” She lightly bumped her sister with her hip. Karin quirked a soft smile, her gaze falling solidly to the floor, like the look of a chastised child.

“Also, I need to go grocery shopping, but I don’t want to yet. What are you up to this afternoon?”

She shrugged in answer, taking another nip from the edge of the cookie. Black dust crumbled from its side to the floor; she watched its progress with more interest than it deserved. So easily distracted these days. It troubled her. But it was a comfort that her sister dropped the matter, rather than dwelling on it as she was wont to do; there was no explaining what had been going on, and no way of wording her concerns in a manner that would do anything but cast doubt on her sanity. It was a burden she could not knowingly place on her sister, concerned or not.

“I hadn’t planned on much,” she admitted. “Some P90X later, maybe mattar paneer for dinner.” She looked up, a genuine smile at last reflecting in her eyes. “I’ll go with you if you want,” she offered. “But in exchange you have to stay and do my workout with me.” She popped the last of the not-quite-Oreo into her mouth, grinning around its sugary swell. “Whoever gets through the whole workout gets to pick what movie we watch after.”

The groan that Fee emitted was along-suffering and pained one. “Jesus Christmas, woman, did I wrong you in a past life?” With that, she took bite out of her now-creme-free cookie. It was well known that Fee was nowhere near as diligent as Karin when it came to workouts - in fact, Fee generally considered the stretch to turn off her alarm clock or answer her phone exercise enough. Truth be told, Fee had kept up with dancing as her main form of exercise while she’d lived in New York, attending classes several times a week in various forms, but she’d been slacking since she’d moved to Newport Beach, and the constant driving in lieu of walking wasn’t helping her situation.

Even so, the idea of a workout wasn’t horrible, except for the fact that P90X, Fee was convinced, was some kind of major advance in voluntary torture conceived by the military industrial complex. There was no question as to which sister would win this game. After chewing her cookie for a moment, she said,

“But OK. I’ll consider this deal if I get veto rights. And if you promise not to try to take anything out of my cart at the market.”

With a needlessly melodramatic arch to her brow Karin pushed off from the counter, shaking her head in clear, if exaggerated, disapproval. “This doesn’t sound like a deal at all,” she said, her thinned lips quirking downward into a slight frown. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe, drifting on languid steps over to the fridge. “That sounds like extortion if you ask me.” The younger Shepherd sister grinned broadly at Karin, who threw Fee a narrowed glance over one shoulder, her lightly teasing tone an echo of her old self. In some small way that willful change echoed through her, stirring her as if from a long and heavy sleep. Fee’s presence went a long way to aid this change, she knew; Karin made a mental note to seek her out more often, and take advantage of the wakefulness her sister was so good at stirring.

She reached into the refrigerator, retrieving a pitcher of filtered water from within its chilly depths. Fetching two clean glasses from the dishwasher, she poured them each a glass, then sidled up beside her once more. “I’ll give you the veto on the movie if and when you lose. But if I’m going for groceries with you, I can take whatever I want out of your cart. Woman cannot live on pizza and Pop Tarts alone. Every time you buy groceries, Fee, Jamie Oliver cries away a year of his life.”

A laugh erupted from Fiona, sudden, full, and loud at the South Park reference. “Listen, woman can’t live on pizza out here, because it’s all shit compared to home and New York. But Pop Tarts have like, tons of nutrients.” She laughed again, her sister’s earnest laughter joining hers. “OK, maybe not tons, but you already converted me to the Trader Joe’s all-natural no high fructose whatever the fuck fake Pop Tarts, what more do you want from my life?” Something sharp and dark and sudden and mournful stirred in her just then, with such speed it was alarming. She felt as though her heart stopped for a moment, and as though in response, she took the water from her sister and slung her free arm around her neck, squishing her in a half hug and kissing her cheek again and again. Again Karin’s laughter rang out, her arm raising to bat half-heartedly at her sister, like a cat hugged entirely too tight.

“How about this,” she asked once the flurry of pecks was over, “you can’t take anything out of the cart, but you can put whatever you want in, and I’ll at least try it. And I won’t even put sugar on it.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Karin laughed. “I feel like I’m really getting shortchanged here.” She sipped at her water, childishly, furtively scooting closer to her sister, a motion noticed and welcomed as Fiona nudged at her affectionately. It felt good to have her so close, a tangible presence now that her days were full of half-seen, half-heard spectres. With no small effort she turned her thoughts from that path, vastly preferring to think on their upcoming trip. She almost felt sorry for the unsuspecting customers they would happen upon, who would be at some point forced to listen to their increasingly loud, occasionally ludicrous arguments over the shopping list as the trip wore on. Almost, but not quite: The idea of filling Fee’s cart with all manner of things healthy and occasionally bland, things even Karin herself did not find especially appetizing, all just to hear her grouse and snark, was a remarkably appealing one, and a potential source of amusement she had no mind to pass over for the benefit of strangers. Though she knew it was a futile goal, visions of durian danced through Karin’s head, and she laughed aloud at the mental image of Fee’s face were she to actually find one.

“But I’ll accept your deal, horse trader,” she said. She tipped the small glass upward, draining it of the last of its contents as she padded back over to the sink. “But I gotta get ready if we’re going to get there before the good stuff gets picked over.” She set the glass to rest alongside a few small saucers, remnants of a few sparse meals eaten over the last few days. Her appetite had waned, leaving her looking to protein shakes purchased and consumed between bouts of equally gruelling work and exercise. She frowned, finding herself wishing she had thought to do dishes. She forced the look from her face before turning around to address her sister again.

“Think you can entertain yourself while I finish up?”

“Sure,” Fee said, watching her sister. She was taken by the impulse to hug her again, to tell her not to leave, but that was just strange. Even as kids, Fiona hadn’t been clingy toward Karin, just comfortably affectionate. But today, these flashes of desperation kept seizing her, and she didn’t quite know how to handle them. As a compromise, she gave her another kiss on the cheek. “Go get ready, I’m gonna check these cookies for wholesomeness. They could be poison. I don’t want you to get sick.” She grinned. Karin smiled in answer, nodding agreement as she slipped away.

But after Karin left the room, Fiona quietly put the cookies away and went about washing her sister’s dishes by hand. Despite coming from comfort, the Shepherd girls knew how to do for themselves, and while Fiona wasn’t one to forego the dishwasher in her own apartment, it seemed like a small enough thing to do for her sister, who seemed thinner and paler, and for whom she was starting to genuinely worry. Karin was so damn stubborn, though. Fiona hoped that she could get her to ‘fess up. The thought that Karin might be sick, or that something really might be wrong, twisted her up. By the time the elder Shepherd sister was back, the dishes were clean, dried, and put away, and Fiona was munching on another cookie as though nothing had happened, watching her sister as she re-entered the kitchen.

“Ready?”

Karin nodded, stopping in the doorway as she caught the sense something was amiss. Her brow arched, her gaze drawn to the now empty sink. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, clucking her tongue. “But I appreciate it.”

With a shrug and a smile, Fee just licked the creme from her cookie, giving her sister a wink.

Karin did not linger in the doorway, feeling somehow restless and unsettled. Instead she came inside, her well worn trainers making barely a sound, and looked for the keys she had left lying on some counter top. They were not quickly or easily found; her frustration grew as Karin continued to look where she knew they had been, only to find more empty space. Annoyed, she tugged peevishly at the hem of her tee shirt, calling unwanted attention to the way it hung too loose on her thinning frame. Fee’s smile faded as she caught the movement. Karin didn’t eat like her, but she always ate -- like she was in training. Nobody treated their body more like a temple than Karin. Fee mulled this over as she watched her sister muttering darkly under her breath, stalking back into the living room. “Fuck.”

From the corner of her eye she saw something stir; but the moment she turned to look at it, it was already gone. She started to move after it, but thought better of chasing shadows with a witness close at hand. With a dark, muted chuckle at her own stupidity, she straightened up, turning to call out to Fee. “Mind if we take your car? I can’t find my keys.”

“Nah, that’s cool,” she said, her eyes not having left her sister. In her whole life, she’d never seen Karin this way, and the differences were so small, so slight -- but with Karin, changes like these were significant. Karin always knew where her keys were; she always knew where everything was. The memory that overtook her was sudden and vivid -- painfully bright.



She was stalking through the first floor of their house, stomping her booted feet, shoving a bright, red-dyed streak of hair behind her ear.

“Why does everyone in this house always need to touch my shit?” she nearly shouted. Calmly, their mother sipped her coffee and kept reading the paper as though Fiona hadn’t made a sound.

“What the fuck?!” she punctuated the exclamation with a heavy stamp of her foot.

Karin walked in, cool as a breeze, dangling her keys in front of her. Fiona gritted her teeth, then snatched the keys out of Karin’s slender hand.

“Ride?” was all her sister said. Torn between continued petulance and the undeniable convenience of not having to catch the bus, Fiona paused for a minute before sullenly nodding, then followed her sister out the door.



Haunted by the vision, which carried with it all the guilt she hadn’t felt then, she reached out for Karin and linked their arms. Immediately Karin drew close, welcoming the familiar warmth of her sister’s skin. It eased the chill she seemed to feel so often, and brought with it a sense of safety, of comfort, she had long counted lost. For a brief moment, she almost felt whole again.

“C’mon, you always drive too slow anyway,” she said with a little grin, by way of pushing the strangely heavy memory away.

It was a short walk to the car, and she kept closer to Karin than she normally would have. Once they were inside and they’d pulled onto the road, she said,

“So... are you gonna tell me what’s up? Because seriously, I’m about to drive you to the doctor’s right now, Nurse Shepherd.”

Karin swallowed hard, the nervous gesture made far more difficult for her bone-dry throat. She fidgeted in her seat, suddenly wondering if perhaps she should not have acquiesced to this bit of errand running; in the comfort of her apartment it was easy enough to find distractions, various ways of pulling Fee from this apparently engrossing topic. Here, she was trapped, unable even to deflect with any kind of efficiency.

“I told you,” she said, weakly. “It’s just work. Long hours, bad injuries.” She glanced over to her sister, green eyes darting restlessly behind thick lashes. “I even saw one of our neighbors. Vanessa Veneto. She’d burned her hand...”

Fee cast a sidelong glance at her sister and shook her head. Nothing about the story was convincing, and the fact that she was covering only made her more worried.

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met,” Fee said, taking a corner faster than most might have. “Something is wrong, Karin, and it’s freaking me out. You’re skinny as shit, it looks like you haven’t slept in weeks, you’re distracted, you’re losing things -- what the hell is going on?”

They fortunately had reached a stoplight when she turned to face Karin fully and said,

“You’re not hitting up the pharmies, are you, Kar?”

“What? No.” Her brow furrowed; at least this time she managed to meet her sister’s eyes, hoping she might read in them at least this much truth. Vehemently she shook her head, her hand wrapping tight at her seat’s edge. Her bitten nails dug into the cloth. “No.”

Karin had no desire to tell her the truth, no will to let her know just how bad it had gotten. She could no longer tell herself it would get better on its own, that it would work itself out with herbal remedies and exercise. She had no explanation for the worsening hallucinations - first only auditory, now progressed to visual as well, their frequency growing at an alarming rate. Neither could she explain away her loss of appetite, her disturbing dreams, or her sense of inherent wrongness, the ever-present sense that she was not herself, that things were not as they seemed, and perhaps never had been. With no answers for her sister, and no way to calm her fears, she was loath to bring it up at all. For so long she had been the one with answers, the one in control, the one to whom they had all come for help. But it was hard, so hard, to keep up the ruse, to bear this growing and oppressive weight alone. She felt tears pricking at the backs of her eyes, saw the shaking in her hands that once begun, she could not seem to stop.

“I don’t know,” she said, honestly. Her voice broke on the words. “It’s worse since the power went out. I just... I can’t sleep, Fee. It’s throwing me off.” She shook her head, raking her hand through her hair. She couldn’t say more, would not say more. It was not Fiona’s burden to bear. “I just need some sleep.”

Fee kept driving, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to pull over and really look at Karin, wanted to figure this out, wanted to help somehow. But there were things that needed doing, and stopping in the middle of the road wasn’t really going to help Karin any more than continuing at least until they got to Trader Joe’s. She’d been half-noticing Karin’s deterioration for months without really putting two and two together. She’d written it off to busy, tough shifts, to maybe missing home or even loneliness, but had trusted that Karin was OK -- only because Karin always was OK. Or at least that was how it always seemed to Fee. But it was clear as day now to Fiona that Karin was not OK, and she knew her sister well enough to realize that Karin wasn’t going to ask for any help if she could help it. Fee put her hand over Karin’s, glancing back at her several times as she tried to keep her eyes on the road.

“Kar, if this were just insomnia, couldn’t you have gotten a script for Ambien by now?” she shook her head. “Tell me what’s going on. Seriously.”

“I’m not going to take anything,” Karin snapped. When her vision cleared, she felt her hand knotted in her hair, tugging at a thick lock nestled near her temple. Slowly she loosened her hand, feeling brittle strands of dull brown hair come loose in the wake of her grip. Her hand fell to her lap, hiding the slip as best she could; in the dim, yellowed street lights, each one illuminating the car’s interior for only a brief moment, it was easy enough to conceal this new and unexpected evidence of her condition. “It wouldn’t help,” she said, by way of apology. The gesture fell markedly flat. “It wouldn’t do anything.”

She bit her tongue until she tasted blood; she bit harder, deeper, longer. She thought of the visions, the dreams, the smells. The shadows that danced through her apartment, the scent of sulphur that woke her in the night. Her shoulders shook, every muscle in her body fighting to tamp down the rising flood of fear.

“I see things, Fee,” she said, her voice a child’s whisper. “I hear things. In the house. On the beach. Ever since the blackout...” She shook her head, angrily swiping at a fallen tear with the heel of her palm. “I’m scheduled for an MRI next week. They said it might be a tumor.” Another tear fell; another red mark marred her face where her hand pushed that weakness away. “I don’t know, Fee. I don’t think that’s what it is.”

“Karin,” Fee breathed, her throat closing as she did peel into a parking lot -- any parking lot. Just as urgently, she pulled into a spot obscured by leaves and shadow, left the engine idling when she reached over and put her hand on her sister’s lackluster hair, turned her to face her. “Karin.”

As she repeated Kar’s name, as she looked into her eyes, shadowed with a lack of sleep, haunted by fear, Fee’s heart started beating faster. She was convinced, in that instant, that it wasn’t a tumor -- that whatever Karin was seeing was a genuine concern, maybe even a genuine threat. Karin wasn’t one for delirium or hallucinations -- Christ knew she didn’t do drugs or really even drink excessively. Something was really wrong. Pulling Karin into a hug -- not as gentle as it should have been, but Fiona felt a burgeoning sense of desperation and fear, and was not the best at controlling her emotions -- she said,

“You coulda told me, Kar. You shouldn’t have had to be going through this alone.” She pulled back to look at her.

“We’re gonna take care of it, OK?” she said, willing her voice to be clear, solid, not letting the catch that wanted to escape through. “We’re gonna take care of it, you’re gonna be OK. I’m gonna stay at your place. I’ll sleep in your bed with you, if you want. I’m not gonna leave you alone.”

Karin nodded, green eyes darting restlessly around them. The street seemed clear for the time being, peopled only by a few brave pedestrians and the steady stream of cars. There were no shadows here, at least for the moment, and that rasping, unhinged voice in the back of her mind told her it was safe for now. It took a conscious act of will to bring her focus back to Fee, but thankfully she managed. She shifted closer to her sister in the car, as much as she was able, childishly seeking tangible touch, hoping something real, something solid, might frighten away these ghosts. Her thin fingers wrapped around Fiona’s arm, clutching tightly, her knuckles white with tension.

“OK,” she said, surprised she had managed that much. New terrors raced through her mind: What if, God forbid, it wasn’t in Karin’s head? What if by her being there Fee herself was dragged into this? What if she saw the same inexplicable things Karin had? What if they might harm her? Some selfish part of her counted the potential benefits well worth the risk; the larger part of her feared for her sister more than herself, and wanted nothing more than to send her back to Chicago, to put as much distance between her loved ones and that accursed island as was physically possible. “OK,” she said again. “But Fee, if... if anything happens while you’re there. I want you to get out, OK? Don’t worry about me. Please take care of yourself.” She knew it was a futile request; she knew Fiona would waste no time telling her as much. But it had to be said, for her own sake if nothing else. Her hand tightened on her sister’s arm. “Promise me.”

“Bullshit,” Fiona said, pulling Karin close again. “If anything happens while I’m there, we’ll both get out, whether before or after we kick the shit out of whatever happens. Either way, I’m not leaving you. For any reason.” Her arms went tight around her sister, reminding her all too vividly how bad things had gotten, and setting off another sharp pang of guilt that she hadn’t paid enough attention until now. She should have noticed more, she should have watched for signs, she should have seen.

But there was nothing to do about that part now. Now, she’d move the essentials down to Karin’s and stay with her until this thing was resolved. Whatever it was, they’d handle it together, just like they should. She kissed Karin’s cheek, and pulled her closer.

“C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go get some ballgargle wheat or whatever nastiness you’re going to force me to eat for the next few weeks.” Karin laughed at the joke, though it was a weak and watery sound. Fee had to disengage to get them to the grocery store, but whenever her hand didn’t have to be on the shift, it went to Karin’s.

From time to time Karin gave her hand a squeeze, though by and large she found herself preoccupied. She wondered if she should have held her silence, and left this to work itself out in due course. Fee would have had it out sooner or later, she knew; they would have gotten drunk, or she’d have been there when Karin awakened from a nightmare, or perhaps she would have guessed something was awry the next time something else, something bigger and more meaningful than keys, went missing in a puff of yellow-tinged smoke. But still she wondered if she should have bought more time, or held her stoic silence better. Such thoughts plagued her as they left the safety of the car, drawing slowly into the bright lights and exposure of the grocery store. The clerks here knew her well; the bright bloom of shame flushed high along her cheeks as she thought of how she must look, dishevelled and thinner than ever, clearly having been recently crying. She hid her face as best she could, hoping the curtain of her dark hair would hide her well enough as they stalked down the narrow aisles.

For the first few aisles, Fee kept looking at Karin, trying not to be obvious about it, but real concern that felt increasingly urgent kept welling up under her skin, making the lighthearted trip this was supposed to be something far darker. She wanted to take her hand, put her arm around her, and if not for Karin’s own likely reservations about such actions, she would do it. But she didn’t want to make Karin feel any less comfortable than she obviously already did, and so she just stuck close to her. They were in the produce section, where Fee was looking at the variety of fruits and vegetables a little murderously when she turned to Karin, moving closer to her than she normally would have, and said,

“You know, we don’t have to do this now. We can order in and watch a movie and do groceries tomorrow. But we should get some stuff for breakfast tomorrow, you know? Make something awesome, do your torture exercises, then stock up on tofu or whatever after?”

She gave her a little smile and nudged her lightly with her elbow.

The gesture, slight though it was, seemed to push Karin out of her selfish reverie. She had to do better than this, if not for herself, than for Fee. Gritting her teeth, she stood a bit straighter, squaring the narrow line of her shoulders. A sliver of a smile curved her lips, growing as she thought on more pleasant things: Her sister’s concern, her presence, the ease and speed with which she offered her help. With each passing heartbeat it grew easier to breathe.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. Her voice was stronger, if perhaps a bit tired, when she spoke again. “No, it’s OK.” She managed a laugh, now. Pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear, raising her chin with pride she did not feel. “Let’s get what we came for. And tomorrow I really will hold you to the workout.”

Fee nodded, her smile broadening a bit as she saw Karin coming back to herself a little. As they walked through the aisles, Fee gave her sister as much trouble as she would have before she’d told her anything - maybe a little extra ribbing, even: overcompensation for her own desire to make Karin feel like everything was OK, that there was some semblance of normalcy. There might have been more little hugs, little pinches, and other signs of affection, but Fee was committed now to keeping Karin as safe and comfortable as possible. Nothing else mattered.