And she kissed him.
He kissed her back. Hungrily.
But when the kiss ended, his face grew wistful again. "I would undo everything, all that I've done with my life since then," said Bean, "if I could only go back and undo that one moment."
"What, you think you could have fought him? Have you forgotten how small you were then?"
"If I'd been there, if he'd known I was watching, he wouldn't have done it. Achilles never risks discovery if he can help it."
"Or he might have killed you, too."
"He couldn't kill us both at once. Not with that gimp leg. Whichever one he went for, the other would scream bloody murder and go for help."
"Or hit him over the head with a cinderblock."
"Yes, well, Poke could have done that, but I couldn't have lifted it higher than his head. And I don't think dropping a stone on his toe would have done the job."
They stayed by the dock for a little longer, and then made the walk back to the hospital.
The security guard was on duty. All was right with the world.
All. Bean had gone back to his childhood range and he hadn't cried much, hadn't turned away, hadn't fled back to some safe place.
Or so she thought, until they left the hospital, returned to their hotel, and he lay in the bed, gasping for breath until she realized that he was sobbing. Great dry wracking sobs that shook his whole body.
She lay beside him and held him until he slept.
Volescu's fakery was so good that for a few moments Petra wondered if he might really have the ability to test the embryos. But no, it was flimflam--he was simply smart enough, scientist enough, to find convincing flimflam that was realistic enough to fool extremely intelligent laypeople like them, and even the fertility doctor they brought with them. He must have made it look like the tests these doctors performed to test for a child's sex or for major genetic defects.
Or else the doctor knew perfectly well it was a scam, but said nothing because all the baby-fixers played the same game, pretending to check for defects that couldn't actually be checked for, knowing that by the time the fakery was discovered, the parents would already have bonded with the child--and even if they hadn't, how could they sue for failing to perform an illegal procedure like sorting for athletic prowess or intellect? Maybe all these baby boutiques were fakers.
The only reason Petra wasn't fooled is that she didn't watch the procedure, she watched Volescu, and by the end of the procedure she knew that he was way too relaxed. He knew that nothing he was doing would make the slightest difference. There was nothing at stake. The test meant nothing.
There were nine embryos. He pretended to identify three of them as having Anton's Key. He tried to hand the containers to one of his assistants to dispose of, but Bean insisted that he give them to their doctor for disposal.
"I don't want any of these embryos to accidentally become a baby," said Bean with a smile.
But to Petra, they already were babies, and it hurt her to watch as Bean supervised the pouring out of the three embryos into a sink, the scouring of the containers to make sure an embryo hadn't managed to thrive in some remaining droplet.
I'm imagining this, thought Petra. For all she knew, the containers he flushed had never contained embryos at all. Why would Volescu sacrifice any of them, when all he had to do was lie and merely say that these three had contained embryos with Anton's Key?
So, self-persuaded that no actual harm to a child of hers was being done, she thanked Volescu for his help and they waited for him to leave before anything else was done. Volescu carried nothing from the room that he hadn't come in with.
Then Bean and Petra both watched as the six remaining embryos were frozen, their containers tagged, and all of them secured against tampering.
The morning of the implantation, they both awoke almost at first light, too excited, too nervous to sleep. She lay in bed reading, trying to calm herself; he sat at the table in the hotel room, working on email, scanning the nets.
But his mind was obviously on the morning's procedure. "It's going to be expensive," he said. "Keeping guard over the ones we don't implant."
She knew what he was driving at. "You know we've got to keep them frozen until we know if the first implant works. They don't always take."
Bean nodded. "But I'm not an idiot, you know. I'm perfectly aware that you intend to keep all the embryos and implant them one by one until you have as many of my children as possible."
"Well of course," said Petra. "What if our firstborn is as nasty as Peter Wiggin?"
"Impossible," said Bean. "How could a child of mine have any but the sweetest disposition?"
"Unthinkable, I know," said Petra. "And yet somehow I thought of it."