In the Infirmary

Simon's keying back and forth through screens of data, almost too fast to read them. It hardly matters. He's read them all through before, pored over them, all but memorized them.

He's still hoping for one of the pieces here to fall into place and make all the other pieces make sense.

If he doesn't concentrate, he sees something else as well, superimposed over the data in lines of paler light: a rose, balanced with exquisite precision on a shining sword-blade, and his sister's proud sweet smile.

I could almost believe you.

He's not consciously aware of it, but sometime since saying that to Eddie, Simon's mind has quietly dropped the "almost."