In the net of Fisher's mind, the dragon was already caught. Still, the net flapped at a couple of loose corners. When Fang dismissed the meeting and ordered everyone to take four hours off to rest (insanely, more time idle!) while Papa also recovered, Fisher waited for her.



When they were the only two left in the room, Fang paused at his heel dragging, and lifted a questioning eyebrow toward her.



"Look, can we talk?" he asked.



"Of course we can talk," she replied. "Haven't we just been talking?"



The net flapped harder in a sudden, unexpected breeze. "I mean like we used to talk. Before."



"Oh. Before." She stared at him impassively for a long moment. "I don't think so."



A hurricane, and the net ripped free. This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all. He had to have some sort of reassurance that he was in control, that he would have his way when the time came, that Fang would act appropriately at the next key juncture.



Fang turned away and walked out of the room.



Fisher followed, but stepped on a fish in the corridor, nearly losing his footing. Damn fish. Fang was a good ten meters ahead, already moving around the ring's curvature. "Lena," he called.



Thankfully she stopped. She spun on her heel with mechanical precision and waited for him. "Yes?" she said.



"I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you. I -- " he needed to throw something big and weighty on the net before it all blew away. "I have been an absolute ass, getting in your way, and I want to apologize from deep in my heart. You have my support, and...my love. If you'll have it."



There, he thought. That should do it.



But Fang's face didn't soften. The ridges of her lips remained sharp and dangerous. The folds around her gray eyes masked the distant mirror of her soul. "Sam, have you looked at yourself recently? You've made yourself into something more inhuman and remote than Stearn or his generation ever managed. They only deal with the body. And, as messed up as Papa is now, or as messed up as he is when he's functioning properly, he is still more responsible than you. You just can't act like an ass for months and then turn around one day and say you're sorry and expect it to be all right again."



This was proving trickier than he had planned. He should have run some simulations and practiced, but he counted on spontaneity to add the necessary emotional integrity that practice would kill. "I know," he said. "You're right. But what would you like for me to do at this point? I'm sorry and I wish I could take it all back and do it right."



"Good," she said, turning away to resume her march.



He took a deep breath and listened to the air whistle through his teeth. He shambled after her in the high gravity, this task turning as physically onerous as it was psychologically.



"What do you want from me? I'll give it to you. Just name it." Give her everything, he repeated to himself. Give her everything to get the only thing that mattered. Everything for everything was an even trade, wasn't it?



This was his thought as they reached Fang's cabin and her door squeezed shut in his face.



Too much, too pushy. Next time he'd play it cool, be sensitive. It would be fine. He thought, I've waited hundreds of years -- I can wait a few hours.



He sat down outside Fang's door.