This piece borrows dialog directly from A Deeper Season. I have indicated the borrowed passages by coloring them blue. I have done some minor edits to avoid confusion.

Edited 20 Jan 2006

Hands Within Another's

"In any case," Gregor continued, smile returning, "have you considered Barrayaran men? You might have better luck there."

That was the hint. Take it, Miles, dammit, before I break...

"Uh," said Miles, "I can't say I have, no. I rather doubt Barrayaran men would consider me, anyway. But what about you?" he asked. "You never did tell me exactly what it is you're waiting for."

Gregor shrugged. "Sanity," he said lightly. "An opportunity. A miracle. Just time, lately." He leaned forward and took a careful breath, gathering in his courage as he prepared to give voice to the miracle he'd wanted for so long. "I want someone who will want me in return, who would want me with or without the Imperium. I want someone who could be my equal. I want to know someone as deep as the soul, and be known in return. I want . . . I want to lay my hands between another's, for the first time."

Gregor was glad he'd rehearsed this line in his head a thousand times, but now what? The script had always stopped here.

He watched as Miles's breath caught. He thought that maybe the power of the expression would make things easier... but he was getting the impression that Miles didn't have the slightest idea what was going on. He had to act, to show Miles just exactly what he meant. Or decide that the whole thing was just... unthinkable.

Now. Or Never. Now.

Gregor paused for one more breath, then reached across the table and took Miles's hands. His touch lingered for a bare, nearly tender millisecond over the kitten scratches,

Gregor had a momentary, tender wish to nuzzle those marks, to kiss them and make them feel better. He stopped his mind before it came up with something less tender and more interesting to do with Miles' hands...

then he turned Miles's palms inwards towards each other, and slipped his own hands between them.

The sensation was... new. Gregor felt as if he'd lost his Imperial virginity. It was treason for a Barrayaran to take these liberties with the Emperor, but was it treason for the Emperor to offer the opportunity to do so, and make sure it happened?

Treason to the Imperium. Not treason to me.

The clarity of the separation was dazzling.

Gregor watched as Miles looked down at his slightly grubby fingernails, and then look up in astonishment as a hot rush of color flood up his neck and into his face.

Oh no, oh no, oh no....

Miles snatched his hands back and grabbed the edge of the table like an anchor to reality.

"Are you out of your over-bred, under-nourished, high Vor mind?"

Yes.

Gregor sat back, a shadow of a smile turning up his lips, then vanishing. "Yes," he said simply. "Very much so. It's . . . glorious."

A moment's hope flashed through Gregor's mind, not of his hands within Miles' hands, but of his body lying within Miles' arms. He felt the joy of possibility, for a moment. But having so obviously shocked Miles -- and this was, after all, much about caring for Miles -- he let the image go and turned back to look across the table.