“You all hate me!” Quara shouted, and then burst into tears.
Miro opened the shuttle door and led Jane out into sunlight. It was her first step onto the surface of a planet, her first sight of sunlight with these human eyes. She stood there, frozen, then turned her head to see more, raised her face up to the sky, and then burst into tears and clung to Miro. “Oh, Miro! It’s too much to bear! It’s all too beautiful!”
“You should see it in the spring,” he said inanely.
A moment later, she recovered enough to face the world again, to take tentative steps along with him. Already they could see a hovercar rushing toward them from Milagre — it would be Olhado and Grego, or perhaps Valentine and Jakt. They would meet Jane-as-Val for the first time. Valentine, more than anyone, would remember Val and miss her, while unlike Miro she would have no particular memories of Jane, for they had not been close. But if Miro knew Valentine at all, he knew that she would keep to herself whatever grief she felt for Val; to Jane she would show only welcome, and perhaps curiosity. It was Valentine’s way. It was more important to her to understand than it was for her to grieve. She felt all things deeply, but she didn’t let her own grief or pain stand between her and learning all she could.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” said Jane.
“Done what?”
“Used physical violence against Quara,” Jane said miserably.
Miro shrugged. “It’s what she wanted,” he said. “You can hear how much she’s still enjoying it.”
“No, she doesn’t want that,” Jane said. “Not in her deepest heart. She wants what everybody wants — to be loved and cared for, to be part of something beautiful and fine, to have the respect of those she admires.”
“Yes, well, I’ll take your word for it,” said Miro.
“No, Miro, you see it,” Jane insisted.
“Yes, I see it,” Miro answered. “But I gave up trying years ago. Quara’s need was and is so great that a person like me could be swallowed up in it a dozen times over. I had problems of my own then. Don’t condemn me because I wrote her off. Her barrel of misery has depth enough to hold a thousand bushels of happiness.”
“I don’t condemn you,” said Jane. “I just … I had to know that you saw how much she loves you and needs you. I needed you to be …”
“You needed me to be like Ender,” said Miro.
“I needed you to be your own best self,” said Jane.
“I loved Ender too, you know. I think of him as every man’s best self. And I don’t resent the fact that you would like me to be at least some of the things he was to you. As long as you also want a few of the things that are me alone, and no part of him.”
“I don’t expect you to be perfect,” said Jane. “And I don’t expect you to be Ender. And you’d better not expect perfection from me, either, because wise as I’m trying to be right now, I’m still the one who knocked your sister down.”
“Who knows?” said Miro. “That may have turned you into Quara’s dearest friend.”
“I hope not,” said Jane. “But if it’s true, I’ll do my best for her. After all, she’s going to be my sister now.”