Children of the Mind (Ender, Book 4) (Ender Quartet)

about him is also in you -- that's not bad, is it? The compassionate perception -- I may be new at being human, but I'm pretty sure that's a rare commodity."
    "I don't know," said Miro. "The only person I'm feeling compassion for right now is me. They call it self-pity, and it isn't an attractive trait."
    "Why are you feeling sorry for yourself?"
    "Because you'll go on needing Ender all your life, and all you'll ever find is poor substitutes, like me."
    She held him tighter then. She was the one giving comfort now. "Oh, Miro, maybe that's true. But if it is, it's true the way it's true that Quara is still trying to get her father's attention. You never stop needing your father or your mother, isn't that right? You never stop reacting to them, even when they're dead."
    Father? That had never crossed Miro's mind before. Jane loved Ender, deeply, yes, loved him forever -- but as a father?
    "I can't be your father," said Miro. "I can't take his place." But what he was really doing was making sure he had understood her. Ender was her father?
    "I don't want you to be my father," said Jane. "I still have all these old Val-feelings, you know. I mean, you and I were friends, right? That was very important to me. But now I have this Val body, and when you touch me, it keeps feeling like the answer to a prayer." At once she regretted saying it. "Oh, I'm sorry, Miro, I know you miss her."
    "I do," said Miro. "But then, it's hard to miss her quite the way I might, since you do look a lot like her. And you sound like her. And here I am holding you the way I wanted to hold her, and if that sounds awful because I'm supposedly comforting you and I shouldn't be thinking of base desires, well then I'm just an awful kind of guy, right?"
    "Awful," she said. "I'm ashamed to know you." And she kissed him. Sweetly, awkwardly.
    He remembered his first kiss with Ouanda years ago, when he was young and didn't know how badly things could turn out. They had both been awkward then, new, clumsy. Young. Jane, now, Jane was one of the oldest creatures in the universe. But also one of the youngest. And Val -- there would be no reflexes in the Val body for Jane to draw upon, for in Val's short life, what chance had she had to find love?
    "Was that even close to the way humans do that?" asked Jane.
    "That was exactly the way humans sometimes do it," said Miro. "Which isn't surprising, since we're both human."
    "Am I betraying Ender, to grieve for him one moment, and then be so happy to have you holding me the next?"
    "Am I betraying him, to be so happy only hours after he died?"
    "Only he's not dead," said Jane. "I know where he is. I chased him there."
    "If he's exactly the same person he was," said Miro, "then what a shame. Because good as he was, he wasn't happy. He had his moments, but he was never -- what, he was never really at peace. Wouldn't it be nice if Peter could live out a full life without ever having to bear the guilt of xenocide? Without ever having to feel the weight of all of humanity on his shoulders?"
    "Speaking of which," said Jane, "we have work to do."
    "We also have lives to live," said Miro. "I'm not going to be sorry we had this encounter. Even if it took Quara's bitchiness to make it happen."
    "Let's do the civilized thing," said Jane. "Let's get married. Let's have babies. I do want to be human, Miro, I want to do everything. I want to be part of human life from edge to edge. And I want to do it all with you."
    "Is this a proposal?" asked Miro.
    "I died and was reborn only a dozen hours ago," said Jane. "My -- hell, I can call him my father, can't I? -- my father died, too. Life is short, I feel how short it is: after three thousand years, all of them intense, it still feels too short. I'm in a hurry. And you, haven't you wasted enough time, too? Aren't you ready?"
    "But I don't have a ring."
    "We have something much better than a ring," said Jane. She touched her cheek again, where she had put his tear. It was still damp; still damp, too, when she touched the finger now to his cheek. "I've had your tears with mine, and you've had mine with yours. I think that's more intimate even than a kiss."
    "Maybe," said Miro. "But not as fun."
    "This emotion I'm feeling now, this is love, right?"
    "I don't know. Is it a longing? Is it a giddy stupid happiness just because you're with me?"
    "Yes," she said.
    "That's influenza," said Miro. "Watch for nausea or diarrhea within a few hours."
    She shoved him, and in the weightless starship