Fighting Gravity (32 page)

We lay together afterward, panting, saying nothing. I was on my stomach with my face away from him. I felt him move against me and kiss my shoulder, my neck.

“I love you,” he whispered.

I jumped up and got off the bed, searching for my pants. “We shouldn’t have done this,” I muttered at the floor, choking on a wave of contempt for my ridiculous lack of self-control.

“What?” he said, with a look on his face that made me ache. I cast a quick, bitter look at him as I snatched up my shirt. He stood, grabbing my arm. “What do you mean?”

I jerked my arm away. “Why are you here?”

He flinched. “You know I said I would come, last time I was here.”

“You’ve gotten out of more important things for less.”

“You wish I hadn’t come?”

“Yes. You shouldn’t have come. If you were dead set on it, you could at least have let me leave. You shouldn’t have done this to either of us.”

I was nearly dressed again. My shirt was missing too many buttons and it hung open. I grabbed for my shoes. He jerked me by the arm. “How can you say that? You listen to me, Jacob Dawes—”

“NO!” I yelled, jerking away again, “You listen to
me!
” Righteous anger rushed through me, anger at myself for allowing this. The pain in his eyes was a vicious condemnation. “Stop doing this, Pete. You’re not stupid. Think! You knew better than to see me. You’re being sentimental and emotional. You’re being ridiculous.” I turned my back on him, sick with necessity, hating the one person who had put us in this position: me. “Get the hell out of here.”

He grabbed for my arm again but, batting it aside, I punched him. He fell to the floor, hands cupping his nose.

For a brief eternity I couldn’t move. I stood there gaping at the sight of him several steps away holding his nose, a line of crimson blood trickling between his fingers, my head swam and my heart thundered as I tried to convince myself I was at the IIC, that this wasn’t the throne room, it wasn’t two years ago, and I wasn’t going to Dead End again.

I hadn’t even noticed he’d moved before his fist slammed into my mouth.

We fought.

I’d been in far, far more fights than Pete, who’d been in exactly none, but I took as many punishing blows as I delivered. My head was ringing and throbbing when I finally thought to drive my fist into his stomach. He doubled over, all his breath going out in a whoosh. I shoved him away and he staggered back into the wall.

I started to walk out, but stopped. After a long moment I turned back, bent down and took his face in my hands, put my forehead to his. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” I whispered, kissing him lightly again and again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” He didn’t meet my eye; there were tears in his as he shook his head. I wiped a stray tear away with my thumb.

Ripping myself away from him, I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my jacket off the floor. “Do me a favor, Pete,” I said.

With an arm around his stomach, he pushed himself up with the other and looked at me.

“Tell them when you leave tonight that you’re not coming back in five years. That you’re not coming back ever.”

He dropped his head, but I still saw the twist of pain in his features. “Jake…” He stopped. He looked up at me, and for a moment I thought he was going to say no, that he wasn’t going to give in. My heart twisted in a tempest of fear and elation. Then, as I watched, the slow spread of resignation crossed his face and he dropped his head again. “If that’s what you want,” he said.

“Yes,” I choked.

He nodded. I opened the door and started to exit but two burly guards blocked my way. “Where do you think you’re going?” the bigger one demanded.

I looked back over my shoulder without turning.

“Let him go,” Pete said from behind me. They moved aside, looking ready to spit nails. I stepped past them quickly, trying not to run from what I’d just done.

fg
36

As I exited the transport and barreled through the lobby I realized that I’d have to pass through the main hall on the way to my room. I tried to figure out how long I’d been on the transport, what time it was at the moment. I only hoped that it was still the lunch hour and everyone was in the dining hall.

I wasn’t so lucky. I entered the main hall to find the whole of the faculty and student body standing about, waiting for the emperor’s return to be announced. There was a significant stir when I walked into the room instead. I had the attention of all as I made my way the entire length of the head of the room in order to get back to my own. I was painfully aware that my shirt hung open, that there was probably still blood on my chin from where Pete had split my lip.

As fast as I walked, I couldn’t go fast enough. And I could hear their comments, loud enough that I knew they meant for me to hear.

“That’s what happens to people like him.”

“If there was any justice he’d have gotten worse.”

“Too bad they didn’t execute him two years ago.”

“I can’t believe they let him go. They should get rid of him this time. Did you hear what he said to the
emperor
?”

When I made it back to my room, I sank to the floor, wishing I were anyone but who I was, where I was. The first thing I did, when I realized I’d have to get up eventually, was get into a cold shower.

Not for the obvious reasons. I needed the shower because I could smell him on my skin and clothes. I washed away, as best I could, what lingered of his scent. I could still smell him afterward, even over the soap and starch but most, if not all, of that was probably traitorous memory.

As much as I wanted to crawl into my bed and never get out again, I had an obligation. To Pete. If I hid away, if I ran from all the pain of seeing him again, of rejecting him, of watching him leave, it would only be that much harder for him. He needed me to be there, to see me accept the situation we had to accept. He needed to see that I chose to watch him go, that I wouldn’t ask for or even allow another lapse. I had to be firm, and strong. For him.

As soon as I could, I left my room to rejoin the group. Of course, I had no way of knowing what had happened after I’d fled the room, but I guessed that Pete was doing the same as I was, putting himself back together to return to the ceremonies. If I hurried, there was a chance I’d rejoin the group ahead of his entrance; and I could already be there when he entered, as if nothing at all had happened.

Entering the room I registered, with relief, the director and department heads all standing at the head of the room, waiting. Pete hadn’t returned yet. I hurried toward my place in the crowd. Not many people were watching my progress. It didn’t take me long to figure out why.

Only a few steps into the room I heard the rustle of voices preceding and the actual announcement of Pete’s entrance. I froze. I briefly considered hurrying back to my place but I knew I wouldn’t make it before Pete arrived. There was still a wide space of empty room between me and the first row of spectators, let alone my place in the middle. So I stopped where I was and waited.

As he walked into the room he looked over and saw me and froze as well. Knowing I had to act, I bowed and then, without a pause, returned to my place in the crowd. The weight of Pete’s gaze accompanied me, somehow heavier than all the other eyes in the room.

When I stopped in my place and looked forward, I could see out of the corner of my eye that Pete was still watching me. I didn’t acknowledge his gaze. Eventually he moved on.

The rest of the afternoon was an escalation of agonies. Pete had a black eye and a fat lip. That much could be seen even where I stood. And I wasn’t seeing it only because I knew to look for it. I could hear the scandalized whispers around me.

The conversation behind me was intended for me and hard to miss. Sasha stage-whispered to Joshua, beside him.

“Do you see what that son of a bitch did? I always said he was an arrogant piece of shit. Don’t think anyone will doubt me now.” Joshua muttered agreement. “You know,” Sasha continued, “I don’t know why the emperor’s guards didn’t have to balls to give him the beating he deserved. But that can be fixed.”

Sasha, who so easily insulted the emperor as a way to provoke me, was now adamant about defending him. I hadn’t thought it was possible to hate him more than I already did. Chuck turned his head and glared at Sasha.

“You think you’re going to stop me this time?” Sasha said to him. “Every guy in this building will be lined up ready to beat the shit out of this piece of garbage before the emperor’s transport is even off the grounds. You get in the way, you’re going to get yourself hurt.”

Chuck sucked in a breath to reply, but I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and turned to face Sasha. “Be patient. You’ll get your chance.”

Beside me, Chuck muttered, “Like hell you will.”

I sighed. I’d do what I could to keep him out of it. There was doubtless someone who would hold him down, if necessary. If not for me, then for Chuck.

Neither my worries about Chuck nor the dread of a beating could hold my attention. I couldn’t think of anything but Pete. It didn’t take someone who knew him well, or even someone aware of the scene that morning, to see that Pete was agitated and distracted.

He walked, mostly unseeing, through the displays. He spoke not at all unless addressed, and not always then. Before long, no one made any further attempt at conversation. I tried not to watch. I kept my eyes on Jonathan instead.

That was almost as bad. The tightening around his eyes, the shadowed glances, the ill-suppressed winces at new signs of distress in his emperor tormented me. But I watched. I had to.

So I saw when, more than an hour into the afternoon, Pete startled at the sight of the next display. I looked at what he’d seen and groaned. It was a sculpture by an artist that Pete had favored even before he and I were together.

Senzio did incredible human subjects, and was a decent guy besides. I’d had some contact with him in my time at the IIC before going away. So when I’d heard of a troupe of famous contortionists coming to the palace, I had suggested we invite Senzio. He’d sat in the Imperial box with us and Pete had been delighted by his absolute concentration throughout. Several very good pieces had joined works at the palace since then. This was one of his latest, and one of the best of that collection in my opinion.

I had avoided Senzio since returning to the IIC; he reminded me of being with Pete.

Obviously it was the same for Pete.

So it wasn’t a surprise when he looked at me. I met his eye. I couldn’t help it. There was a pleading look on his face. I dropped my head to make myself break the eye contact. When I raised it again I didn’t look at him. I could see in my peripheral vision that he was still looking at me. Eventually he turned away and resumed the tour.

And so I stood in the crowd and watched him view the exhibit. I sat in the dining room and watched him at the head table, though I turned away every time he looked for me. I stood in the crowd as he thanked and praised us. He didn’t say explicitly that he’d never come again, but he implied it. In spite of the fact that I had asked him to, it still made my eyes fill with tears.

And I held myself in place when he left.

The moment he was out of sight I turned, without waiting for a dismissal, and tried to make my way out in the opposite direction. I wasn’t out of the room before I fell to my knees, retching. I was dimly aware of my friends at my side trying to help me, but the moment I was able, I scrambled to my feet and retreated.

When I got to my room I locked the door and buried my head under my pillow. There was more than one knock on my door, but I ignored them all. Eventually, I was left alone with my misery.

fg
37

In the morning I got up, dressed, and went to breakfast. I
felt dead inside, but what alternative did I have? I’d feel no better or worse alone in my room. I entered just before the occupants of the head table and took my place between Kirti and Chuck. Sasha slid in front of me. I hadn’t forgotten he’d promised me a beating.

We sat for the meal and I didn’t bother taking any food. I nursed my coffee cup instead. I was deaf and blind to what was going on around me, so it was only dimly that I registered a sudden excited murmuring, people coming to their feet all around me. Kirti smacked my arm. “Jake!” she hissed. I looked up at her; she wasn’t looking at me but across the room. Out of reflex more than curiosity I did as well.

And saw Pete coming toward me. I shot to my feet, felt the blood drain from my face. He wore casual, everyday clothes, he wore no jewelry but the Imperial seal, and he was unaccompanied. It made the scene that much worse because it wasn’t the emperor approaching me, it was Pete. He stopped in front of me.

“May I speak to you?”

I couldn’t breathe from the pain of seeing and hearing my Pete, so I had no words to answer him. I just nodded once and walked away, trusting that he’d follow.

He caught up and walked beside me. He was a physical heat against my side. I was panicky. I knew I didn’t have the strength to be alone with him.

As we approached one of the exits I angled and stopped in the corner of the room, turned to face him and waited. He gave me a look of disbelief.

“Could we go somewhere more private?” he asked, gesturing toward the doorway.

“No.”

He looked at me, incredulous for a long moment, then made a soft sound of amusement.

“OK, Jake,” he said, a smile playing at his lips, “have it your way.” He took one of my hands and dropped to a knee in front of me. “Jacob Dawes,” he said, “will you marry me?”

The room started to spin. I looked up, horrified, to confirm that there was indeed a crowd of people watching us with a variety of astonished expressions on their faces. I looked back at Pete, still on one knee in front of me. I grabbed him by the upper arm, hauled him to his feet, and dragged him from the room. He didn’t resist.

“Where are we going?” he asked, as if he was just making conversation.