The Pool, Sunday Morning

[endsthegame]

He'd left his room, and no one had stopped him. Then he'd left the floor, and no one had stopped him there either. So in the dorms, at least, Ender had freedom of movement. The same might have gone for outdoors-- there would be no guard stopping him. That was good to know. At least this prison had space

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[ecirpnellehada]

Sometimes, the wanderlust struck at the strangest moments. Perhaps Adah could place the blame slightly on Igor's missing experimentation, but another morning of sitting in her room, reading her books, commiserating over the laundry list of basics classes she didn't want or need to take at college seemed positively stiffling. Whatever it was that had escaped the mad lump scientist's clutches was unlikely to have made it as far as the dorms, perhaps, but Adah wasn't feeling like exploring much with the current weather and location conditions. Certainly no exploring the wilderness here as she had other places; ice and limps were terrible combinations. And she knew her last venture into the basement had not revealed labyrinthine tunnels and passages like she had hoped, but she had hoped that perhaps, at this hour, the pool she knew to be there would be empty, and perhaps the lights on the chlorinated water against the subterranean walls would be relaxing, like waterlogged catacombs of her favorite lore

[endsthegame]

He had felt them watching him before: the boy at the picnic had watched him for several minutes before he'd spoken. Now, it was happening again. The noise the other made as they came in nearly knocked him out of his thoughts, but he wouldn't let them. Let them watch me, he thought again, rebelliously, let them watch me and I'll do nothing.

It didn't last. It was new, here, and unexplored, and he'd heard something a little off about the other's movements. Curiosity made him pry his eyes open as he continued to bob gently on the surface.

What was it that the people here said? He recalled the slang, this time. "Hi."

[ecirpnellehada]

He hadn't responded at first; it was unlikely that it was because he hadn't noticed her. Adah lacked a certain grace just as she lacked the majority of the feeling in her right side, so one would have had to been mentally an idiot to not notice her half the time, although she was quiet when she wanted to be, and this was one of those cases. Still, it was the little things that clued her into the fact that he had in fact noticed her and was choosing to ignore her watchful eyes. The slightest, barest tensing of muscles, a natural response, probably unconscious, a defensiveness of sorts. Slight, but noticeable to someone who knew what to look for and could notice the way the slight change rippled the water, though just barely.

But then he gave in, opening his eyes. Addressing her. Adah shook her head lightly, held up a hand. Please, no. Don't let her interrupt. She was content in being just a mere, silent observer if he was content in being observed. But perhaps that was why he'd addressed her, because he wasn't. Most people

[endsthegame]

Patience had always been a virtue, if not in the way whoever had coined the phrase had intended. She hadn't reacted with words; she hadn't been startled, and so he'd take both gesture and silence as his answer. If she had a reason to be here, she'd make it known with time. He could wait. Their patience always ran out quicker than his did.

But he was going to take the moment to observe and categorize on his own-- most noticably, there was a certain odd weight to her. Like her body had been damaged, half of it refusing to work along with the rest of it. The movements, the silence--

Ender had a feeling she wouldn't say anything at all. And so his eyes shut again, and he imagined being in the Battle Room, except it wasn't a Battle Room, it was just him, and there were no gates, no suits, and he couldn't fall anywhere at all.

[ecirpnellehada]

Once the boy's eyes closed again, Adah allowed a slight grin. Most people minded; he, apparently, didn't, but in an odd way. Acknowledge, and then continue with what he was doing before, and what was that? Probably retreating into his head. Something about the weightlessness of water (she felt a slight stiffening in her spine, a shudder racing up it and attempting to straighten her out for a brief moment before she settled back into her usual slump) that helped maintain his thoughtful sphere. A rare specimen, so far, if he truly didn't mind her just observing. Not yet at least. Perhaps he thought she'd get bored and leave him alone

[endsthegame]

It still wasn't the same, but it was enough to pretend. Valentine had pulled him from the water back in Greensboro, but Valentine would not come for him now. No promises, no threats, no shared memories twisted to make him bend to anyone's will. He was alone.

Without Valentine. But then no one would come for him. He supposed he would have to be content in that, alone in his Battle Room with only a silent, crippled girl for company. His face shifted with the force of the frown. A single movement of his foot sent a trickle of water splashing back down into the pool.

He clung stubbornly to his illusion, but he could already feel it slipping away from him. He wanted those thoughts to leave him alone.

[ecirpnellehada]

Dogs and cats, always chasing tails or mice or foxes that they could never catch, in their dreams. The same with humans. Adah's head tilted at the crease of a frown; her eyes shifted to follow the arc of the splash, interrupted by a shift of toes and feet and bones inside and muscles connected to it. They balanced, in a way, the frown and the arc

[endsthegame]

Snakes; that was it. Snakes. The snakes that had found him at the end of the world. And like itty bitty snakes, they invaded, a cluster of snakes at the bottom of his Battle Room, leering up at him. Kiss them or kill them, whatever Ender might have wanted, he couldn't reach them. He remained, drifting, with nowhere to push off and nowhere to go.

His eyes flickered open, fixing their stare at the ceiling up above. He was being watched, and he would not show this. The weak, jaded tiredness that had swirled around his mind for the past three years was to be left bottled and corked, and his watcher wouldn't get any of it. It was his.

It was his, and he had to do something with it. His weight in the water didn't shift with the knowledge. But after three years, he knew that Valentine had been right: that men and women weren't made to drift on lakes all of their lives. He wondered if a raft would cut it, this time, and the irrational urge bubbled up in him to ask the girl.

He let the urge drift as easily as his body. Pointless.

[ecirpnellehada]

The different ones were always much more interesting to watch, anyway, even if their differentness turned out to be nothing special, no great discovery of curing illness or destroying other little microbes in a dish. Cure or destroy or just be. Her head tilted a little as the boy's eyes opened, slowly, as if waking from a dream, but still distinctly remained in a realm that didn't include her, just himself, the water, the ceiling of the room where even quiet seemed to echo through the chlorine scented air. She grinned a little again. Persistent in his isolation, as well, or just stubborn, waiting for her to get bored and leave so...so he could what? Continue drifting, but this time without having to think about ignoring any distraction? Or perhaps he had succeeded and in his little world, she had ceased to exist, which was alright by her. It was when you didn't exist that you could make the best observations.

[endsthegame]

Now, then, he managed to achieve stillness again. The whirling of his thoughts settled a little, even if he knew it was just for now-- it would come back, in dreams, thoughts, hurtling him back to a great deal of things he didn't want to think about but had to.

He thought about rafts instead, about letting his hands do the work, any work at all. Let her read this from my movements. I will learn to make things.

[ecirpnellehada]

Adah's thoughtful frown deepened a little, and she leaned forward in her observations, as he went back to stillness. Stillness, she had to admit, was something. Stillness was impressive. To her, at least, it was, and perhaps that was why she was still sitting there, still watching, still thinking on a boy just floating in the water, and would continue to do so for the rest of the morning. She didn't have to be anywhere until the evening, had no obligations, and eventually his skin would start to wrinkle and prune from the water, unless there was even more to him than she could observe, but she was observing quite a lot already.