"Hey, Jaaaaney."

"What do you want, Peter?"

The man grinned and looked down at his sneakers, rocking back and forth and looking for all the world like an awkward teenager calling up his crush in the middle of the street. The only difference was his smile, power-hungry, devious, and all in all bordering on psychotic. "Nothing, darling. Just wanted to say hi."

He didn't care to subvocalize. After all, he was Peter – he didn't care for much.

The intelligence snorted. "The great Peter Wiggin never just wants to do anything."

"How's my brother doing, Jane? He and Novinha—"

"She left him."

Peter near cackled. "Of course she did. She's got some sense in her, that girl. Now you, sweetheart, you I question sometimes. You still pining after him, huh, Jane? Still in love with the love that can never be?"

"You know I'm not."

"That fool," said Peter, suddenly solemn and angry and harsh. "He loved you. He loved you so damn much. He loves too much, you know. Ender."

"I know," she said, softly.

"Alai. Bean. Valentine. That stupid damn bugger. Novinha, and you, Jane, you... Too damn much, I'm telling you."

Peter tilted his head up to the cloudless sky so his sudden tears would not spill. They stayed, pooling, in his grey-blue eyes.

"But not you."

"Never me."

She knew better.

"Why are you calling, Peter?"

"I just wanted to talk. Can't I ever just want to talk, Jane? Why can't the great Peter Wiggin ever just want to do anything?"

She stayed silent and then asked a better question.

"Why are you crying, Peter?"

"I don't know, dammit. I don't even know. Stupid-ass Ender putting all this empathy in me. The little bastard, always gotta—"

"He didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Put all that empathy in you. He made you worse than you used to be. So why are you crying?"

The Hegemon stood on a path in a field staring up at the sky with tears streaming down his face.

"Hell, Jane," he whispered to the sun. "I don't even know."