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Bean forces himself not to check his last message from Nikolai again as the shuttle docks. He knows what it says, and he knows there won’t be a new message. There are probably messages from their parents too—Nikolai’s parents really, not Bean’s, though they’ve been kind enough to pretend.
Bean had played along for two years. He still isn’t really sure why he decided to stop. The therapist Nikolai’s parents begged him to talk to blamed everything on Rotterdam—on what little he told her about Rotterdam anyway. She advised him to tell Nikolai’s parents about it. She even suggested they call him “Bean” instead of “Julian,” like that could make them understand.
The shuttle docks with a dull thud and Bean doesn’t miss his parents at all. Bean blames Rotterdam too, but not the way the therapist did. It was only a matter of time before Bean got tired of pretending. He’s good at pretending when he needs to be, pretending to be weak, to be helpless and dumb. He pretended to be the kind of person Poke would want to protect, but he doesn’t need a protector anymore. There’s nothing Nikolai’s parents can give him that he needs. They’re nice people. Bean isn’t nice.
The hallways of what was once Command School are just as strange as Bean remembered, but they feel smaller of course. Everything feels smaller. Bean wonders if Ender will feel smaller too, if Ender will even recognize him.
There’s barely any staff on the base now, from what Bean can see. A young-looking officer leads him through the hallways, pointing out everything they pass and staring shamelessly whenever he thinks Bean isn’t looking. Bean is used to stares.
When they reach Ender’s room, the officer waits expectantly outside the door. Bean doesn’t budge. He’s not going to be chaperoned inside. After a painfully long pause the officer takes his leave and Bean stares down the unmarked door.
It’s still hard to believe he’s actually here, that anyone agreed to give him Ender’s location, let alone giving him clearance to visit. He can only imagine how many people must’ve tried to get access—reporters, politicians, generals. And now Bean’s here. He sent a message to Graff and a month later he was on a shuttle.
Bean knocks on the door. He hears a muffled “come in” and pushes it open. The room inside is mostly dark and it takes Bean’s eyes a moment to adjust. He can just make out Ender lying in bed across the room. Ender doesn’t turn to look when the door opens.
“Ho Ender.” Ender looks up then.
“Bean.”
“Did they tell you I was coming?” A strange look passes over Ender’s face before he shifts in bed, staring up at the ceiling again.
“They probably did.”
Bean clenches his hands in the fabric of his pants. He doesn’t know what he expected but he didn’t expect to be ignored. It hurts . Bean had almost forgotten things could hurt like that.
Bean stands by the door for what feels like minutes, feeling thoroughly ridiculous. He’s considering turning around and finding his way back to the shuttle when Ender’s voice floats out of the half-darkness again.
“What does Graff want?”
“Graff?” Bean parrots dumbly. Ender just sighs.
“You don’t have to pretend. I’d rather you didn’t.” Ender looks over at him and smiles and it’s horrible. “When Graff wants something he sends someone I—“ Ender’s voice cuts off and he shakes his head. “He’s re-using old tactics. I don’t know how he ever got made a Colonel.”
“Graff didn’t send me.” Ender looks genuinely surprised for a moment but it passes quickly.
“Maybe not directly. But he wouldn’t have cleared your visit if he didn’t want something from you.” Bean nods. He expected as much when his request was approved.
“What does he want?” Ender stares up at the ceiling again.
“I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’ll be something I don’t want.” Bean chews his lip. Do I want something from him? Bean figures there must be something he wants, something Nikolai and his parents couldn’t give him. Bean isn’t nice like them. Ender isn’t really nice either, but he’s good.
Bean glances around the room, looking for some clue to the nature of Ender’s life here. There isn’t much. An empty table, a chair.
“Back on earth they say you’re…doing research.”
“Did you believe that?” Ender still doesn’t look at him.
“No. It was closer than the other things people said, but I knew it wasn’t true.” Most were convinced that Ender had gone off to lead the first colonies, or that he was secretly advising earth’s leaders, the mastermind behind his brother’s rise to power. Bean might’ve believed it if the last time he’d seen Ender wasn’t burned into his mind. Ender crying , Ender reaching for him, clinging to him.
“You don’t know me,” Ender says softly.
“It’s only been two years.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know me either.” Bean swallows the lump in his throat.
“Who do I know if I don’t know you?” He’d meant it as a joke but it comes out choked and strange.
Ender looks at him finally. Bean resists the strange urge to hunch his shoulders, to make himself smaller somehow, more like the little boy Ender had first met. Not that that earned him any sympathy then.
“Do you want to sit?” Bean nods and Ender shifts on the bed to make space. The memory hits like a punch to the gut. That night he’d spent curled up at the foot of the bed in Ender’s quarters. He wouldn’t fit like that anymore.
Bean sits on the edge of the bed. He’s close enough to see Ender’s face clearly now, to notice how pale and hollow it looks.
“How are things on earth? I heard they found your parents.” Bean shrugs.
“They didn’t raise me. Battle School did.” Ender’s face tightens up.
“Battle School…that wasn’t me. At least I hope it wasn’t.” Bean decides not to argue.
“Okay.” Ender laughs bitterly.
“See? That’s what I mean. You don’t agree with me, but you won’t say so because some meddling bureaucrat made me your ‘commander.’”
“ I made you my commander.” Bean doesn’t explain. Ender seems to understand anyway.
“Of course…” Realization passes over his face, then regret. “You built my army—the perfect army. And then I tried to turn them against you, just like Graff did to me.” Ender’s lips are tight. His hand shakes as he pulls at his blankets. Bean quickly looks away from the thin tube taped to the back of his palm. “They told me I could go back.”
“They lied.” Ender should’ve known it was a lie. Of course he wouldn’t be able to return to earth.
“Yeah,” Ender says with a shaky laugh. “They lied about a lot of things. I was too afraid of the truth so I believed them, but I think I always knew. I’m good at killing.”
“The human race needed you to be,” Bean says. It’s probably not what Ender wants to hear but it’s true.
“I don’t really care what they need.” He’s back to apathy, back to staring at the ceiling, but Bean is closer now. He can see how Ender is blinking back tears, how his shaky hands twist in the sheets. He’s sick, clearly. His arms are wrapped in some kind of medical plaster. “I thought…I thought I could be done ,” Ender whispers. “I’m not allowed to be done either.”
“Ender…” Bean starts but he realizes too late he doesn’t have anything to say. Even saying Ender’s name out loud feels strange, like it’s something he hasn’t earned.
“Why did you come here?”
“I…don’t think I know who I am either.” Ender raises an eyebrow and Bean feels a bit foolish. It’s become a habit, pretending he thinks like other people, trying to mirror their thoughts and emotions. He should’ve known Ender would see through it. “I know I’m not someone’s damaged son. I’m not that person they love, and they’re going to find out sooner or later.”
“So you left first?” Bean nods, stares down at his own lap.
“Something like that.” It’s clear now that he’s here, now that he’s with Ender, close enough to touch. He wasn’t running from his family, he was running to Ender. He doesn’t need parents, he doesn’t need school or money or love. He needs his life to mean something. He must’ve thought Ender could give him that again. It feels selfish to think of now. Ender hates the person Bean used to know, he doesn’t want to be that person anymore. He hasn’t made a move to sit up the whole time Bean has been here, and Bean is starting to wonder if he can sit up, if he’s too weak to move.
Maybe he wants it that way… It’s a horrible thought but as soon as he thinks it, Bean knows it’s true. Maybe he feels safer like this, weak and harmless. Maybe he just needs to stop feeling strong…
“I know why Graff let you come. Graff…he doesn’t need me anymore. But it makes him feel guilty, seeing me like this.”
“He’s a selfish bastard.” Ender laughs a little wetly.
“He’s smart though. It’s the same tactic but it’s going to work,” Ender says bitterly. “He brought me my sister so I’d go back to space and ‘fight the buggers’. He brought you here because he doesn’t want to watch me die.” Bean’s chest feels tight but he forces a smile.
“I’m a selfish bastard too then.”
“The worst.” Ender smiles, pained and tired. “Is your room close?”
“They didn’t give me one yet. I lost my chaperone.”
“Can you find your way back, Bean?” Bean grins.
“Probably not,” he says. It’s not true of course and they both know it. Ender pats the mattress in invitation. “I don’t think I’m going to fit anymore.”
“You’re not so big yet.” It’s probably supposed to be teasing, but Ender’s voice is kind. A little sad too.
Bean is still small enough to fit on the bed, lying by Ender’s side precariously close to the edge. He’s trying so hard to make sure he doesn’t accidentally touch him, that he hardly notices Ender is moving until he’s already shifted onto his side, his back pressed against the wall to give Bean more room.
They’re face to face now, and even in the dark it’s almost more than Bean can stand. His eyes wander, searching for somewhere else to look and they land instead on the tube taped to Ender’s hand. It’s long, disappearing somewhere under the blankets. There are probably more tubes that he can’t see. Bean wonders what they’re for, if Ender is being drugged, if he needs medicine.
Bean reaches for Ender’s hand before he can stop himself, holding it carefully as it shakes. A sharp gasp makes his eyes snap up to Ender’s face.
“I wish you hadn’t come,” Ender whispers, tears trailing over the bridge of his nose.
“I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“I’m not.” Bean squeezes Ender’s hand. His heart pounds as he leans forward until their foreheads lightly touch. He doesn’t have to move far.
Bean closes his eyes. He can still hear the wet gasping sounds of Ender’s sobs. He can feel little puffs of breath against his face.
Bean falls asleep faster than he means to. He isn’t sure when he last slept so deeply. Someone comes in the night to check on Ender, on the medical devices hidden under his sheets. It rouses Bean a little, but he only remembers fragments—Ender’s soft voice, Ender’s shaking hands, Ender’s heartbeat pressed up against his ear.
He wakes up under the blankets, sprawled half on top of Ender and tries to stay calm. Bean is hyper aware of everywhere they’re touching. It still feels like it shouldn’t be allowed, like Ender shouldn’t have a body almost. He definitely shouldn’t feel so small and frail and human.
Bean manages to move a little while hiding his panic. He’s still lying on Ender’s arm though, his head resting on Ender’s shoulder. He opens his mouth before he fully knows what to say, needing to fill the silence.
“I wasn’t sure you’d actually be here.” It still doesn’t quite feel real. “People were saying you’d left, that you went off to lead a colony.” Ender clears his throat a little. His voice still comes out hoarse.
“I…considered it.”
“But you stayed?”
“I didn’t want to lead anyone anymore.” Bean looks up to see the tight smile on Ender’s face. “I don’t…I don’t think I should.” Bean might’ve argued once—leading doesn’t mean fighting, doesn’t mean killing—but right now Ender is pale and half-asleep and painfully human. His hand is gripping the back of Bean’s shirt a little too tightly.
“Okay.” Bean lets his head be heavy on Ender’s shoulder. You’re not a killer, you’re not dangerous. Bean knows what a real killer is like, someone who leads for power, who feeds off admiration and obedience. Ender never wanted any of those things.
“What if I led a colony?” Bean asks after a long silence. Ender doesn’t say anything. “Would you come with me?” Bean hasn’t really given this plan much thought, he’s talking impulsively and it’s a bit terrifying. All he knows is he needs to get Ender away from here. He’s spent two years wasting away in the tunnels carved by the species he was tricked into exterminating. Bean doesn’t claim to understand why or how exactly, but it’s clearly killing him.
Bean feels Ender’s head turn a little, feels warm breath in his hair. “I would go with you.” Ender says it like it’s a guilty secret, but Bean locks the words up inside himself and treasures them.
He doesn’t know how long it will take, or how much Ender even means it, but it’s enough to give him hope. He won’t ask Ender for anything, he doesn’t need to. Somehow Ender has given his life meaning again anyway.