"Yes."
"That's going to happen with some regularity."
"I know."
"You're committing to a significant amount of—"
"I know," Tav said. "I've done the calculation."
"Okay," he said finally. "Okay."
His grip on Tav's hand was still there — loose, certain, he had made a decision about letting go and had decided against it.
Outside the windows, the city was beginning to arrive at its earliest version of morning. The grey-blue of the sky before dawn. The long shapes of the streets.
"What you said earlier," Alistair said. "About needing people."
"Yes."
"I need you," Alistair said. "Not as a variable. Not for the mission or the Protocol or any of the rest of it." He turned his head so he was looking at Tav again. "I need you and whatever this is between us and the calm mornings in that kitchen."
Tav looked at him.
"I know," he said.
"You're not going to say it back."
"I already said it in the kitchen that morning," Tav said. "I told you I needed you to stay. I don't usually say things twice."
Then, very softly: "Right. Yes. You did say that."
"I did."
"I heard it," he said. "I heard it very specifically."
Tav held his gaze steadily.
"Good," he said.
• • •
• • •
lights passing intermittently, the city thinning to its northern edge, Alistair's hand maintaining contact.
Tav was aware of each component separately and also as a composite. This was something that had been developing since week three — the capacity to be aware of multiple things at once without the awareness compromising any individual element. He had always had the analytical version of this: the simultaneous processing of operational variables. What was new was the personal version. Being aware of the shoulders complaints and Alistair's hand and the city's amber lights simultaneously, with none of them requiring the others to pause.
This was what it felt like to be present, he thought.
Being in this moment with this open awareness, not for any reason beyond the moment itself.
He was in the moment.
The shoulder: hurting in the way of things that have been more badly damaged than their owner was prepared to admit. He had been telling Alistair it was manageable, and it was manageable, and it was also significantly more than the first wound had been.
He was prepared to tell the physician the accurate version.
He was less prepared to tell Alistair the accurate version, because Alistair's response to the accurate version would be to be significantly more concerned than he already was, and the concern — while reasonable and accurate and appropriate — was something Tav found he wanted to manage at this moment.
