Room 204; Monday Morning [ 08/03 ].

[a_demosthenes]

Valentine, half asleep and half awake, found herself stretched, long and lean, quite like a cat, and comfortably so, except that wasn't actually much of a cat anymore. It didn't even registers until, pressing out the length of her limbs, she instinctively, almost habitually now, brought her hand to her mouth, intent to smooth out some rogue strand

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[endsthegame]

He had been lapsing into sleep, it'd seem. He could tell by all the images that flashed by him, the worst of his memories, a never-changing, never-ending collage of death and abandonment that only ended once his eyes blinked open and he caught the lines of Valentine's collarbone by his face. Oh. The island must have worked its magic overnight.

He exhaled once. Proximity, touch, they were difficult subjects, even with Valentine: Ender was trying to keep her at, maybe not as much of a distance as Ben or Karla, but certainly a distance. And yet here he was: curled into her body, warm, safe, and for a moment, he could almost pretend everything was all right. She loved him, he knew that.

He could've made a joke, but he couldn't think of any that were funny.

[endsthegame]

His memory slipped back to another night. I still hear the children playing.

His hand slipped down her cheek and towards her hand. "Hey, Val."

[a_demosthenes]

Valentine waited a moment as his hand moved before giving it a little squeeze. "What?" she asked and added, for good measure, "Chicken butt?"

[endsthegame]

He didn't really have anything: it was meant as a distraction, but he wasn't quite managing to follow through. That bothered him. "Next time we have one of these weeks, tell me to take a vacation." His hand hurt. The other one, that was.

[a_demosthenes]

"As if you'd listen to me," Valentine said back, knowing perfectly well that it was ironic. If he listened to anyone, it was her.

[endsthegame]

He pulled his hand up to see why it was hurting, and found some teethmarks again. One or two had broken the skin. Nice. He glanced back at Valentine. "This seems to keep happening."

[a_demosthenes]

Valentine's eyes followed Ender's and she hesitated to respond at all while she took in what she saw. But then she moved her hand to lightly take the one with the bitemarks, not just for the tactile contact, but also to have a closer look herself.

She felt like her heart had been yanked into her stomach.

"Ender," she said. "How often?"

[endsthegame]

"Just this weekend," he said, "Recently. It'll fade." He lifted an eyebrow, and shrugged slightly against the bed. "It's just a stress reaction."

[a_demosthenes]

Just a stress reaction. Valentine shook her head, looking the hand over some more. "If it happens again," she said, "I'm getting you big boxer gloves to wear to bed or something."

[endsthegame]

"That might make naptime a little unwielding," Ender pointed out, closing his eyes.

And opening them back up right away. Residual images. Nice.

[a_demosthenes]

That was barely even enough to be a blink. Valentine didn't actually frown at Ender that much, but it could be seen easily in her eyes. "You should be asleep when you nap, anyway, so what would it matter? They'd be like pillows."