Sol watched the rain stream down the windowpane as if it was crying. This was day three of the insistent rainfall, and it did not appear to be ending anytime soon. The thick clouds cast everything below it in gray, muted colors, shutting out the sun.

He pulled out the gray handkerchief from his pocket, fingering the tight weave. He hadn't dreamed it. A Greyman had visited him, and no one spoke about it—as if alien kings and legendary Greymen were common occurrences not worth gossiping over at the dinner table. His peers were more interested in the sudden turn of the weather than their strange visitors. Sol had considered bringing up the subject with Nettle. He would have liked to analyze the experience with her—help him sort his thoughts out on the memories Shinigami had brought to light out of the sealed vault of his mind. See what she knew about the Unseen Web, but then she would ask questions, and Sol didn't know what he would say. Would he keep perpetuating the lies planted in Justin and the Director's heads? Would he share with Nettle his suspicions, risking the truth getting back to them? And why did the Greyman lie in the first place?

Sol groaned and tucked the cloth back in his pocket. He wondered what Hugo would think about his rudimentary attempts at laundering to get the bloodstains out of the fabric. Probably drill him on basic chemistry or the molecular components of blood.

Turning from the window, Sol reached over and clicked on the small lamp next to the bedside of the man whose face was just as ashen as the sky. "Don't go dying on me, gramps."

Sol pulled the hospital's polyform chair closer to Hugo's resting form. No matter what shape he selected, the chair remained uncomfortable. Sol settled into it, flipping open the thick textbook. "Let's see. Where did we stop at? Oh yeah, autobiographical memory." Sol cleared his throat, then quietly read out loud.

He was almost through the chapter when the door swooshed open. He looked up, expecting to see Nurse Becca, and getting an ear full of staying past visiting hours, but instead, it was his least favorite person.

Sol's smile dropped. "Speaker Justin."

"Solaris." His eyes swept over the room before landing on the book in Sol's lap. "Interesting locale for studying." He closed the door. "What book are you using now to distract yourself from the material you're supposed to be learning?"

Sol swallowed the words he wanted to say. He smoothed his features into a mockery of pleasantness. "Comprehensive Authority of Neuroanatomy. "

Justin scoffed before pulling the book out of Sol's hands. He flipped through a few pages. "Why are you wasting your time on this obsolete pseudoscience?"

Sol wanted to remind Justin that it was his order that prevented him access to the digital library that housed the latest and greatest of modern day thinkers, but he had learned the hard way to not counter his teacher's viewpoint. Justin's attitude toward Sol had gotten worse since the Greyman's visit.

Perhaps it was his thoughts of Shinigami that had him say, "There is something stimulating about the violent confrontation of incommensurate paradigms."

Sol held out his hand. Justin sneered, but he gave back the book.

Sol flipped to an earlier chapter. "Fascinating how our frontier scientists conflicted with one another, holding incompatible ideas about human nature depending on their field of study. A refreshing reminder of what we can achieve when scholars engage in dialogue across disciplinary boundaries."

"Is that your backhanded way of voicing your ingratitude over the Speaker classes the Director has assigned you?"

"I was referring to the concept of kinship." Sol held out the book to Justin, open to the section on social bonding. Justin crossed his arms, not taking the bait. Sol shrugged, turning the book back around. "They argued between which was stronger, social ties or blood ties. Whether it was our genetic makeup or social pressures that would determine one's behavior."

"As I said, complete waste of time."

"Not necessarily," Hugo whispered.

Sol jerked, then leaned forward to touch Hugo's wrinkled hand. Hugo blinked his eyes open and gave a cough.

Justin poured water into a cup and aided Hugo, lifting his head to sip at it.

Hugo gave a sigh as Justin eased him back down. "The boy is talking about evolution versus the expression of social behaviors. Ironic, considering he is being exposed to both viewpoints here at the Institute."

Justin placed the cup on the table. "Irrelevant ideas—"

"Let it be, Justin," Hugo said. "All he has is time. Let him spend some of it on how he chooses." Hugo shifted on the bed. "You look tired, Sol."

Sol gave him a smile. "Just staying up too late studying."

Hugo grunted, eyes searching Sol. Whatever he saw must have eased his concern, because he turned his attention over to Justin. "Did I hear correctly? The Director changed her mind and is putting him in Speaker classes?"

"Blame it on the cursed Greyman." Justin grabbed the only other chair in the room and set it on the opposite side of Hugo's bed.

"A Greyman?"

Justin sighed, leaning back into the chair. "Get through this surgery and then I'll catch you up on the last few weeks."

"Devious man," Hugo said with a grin on his face. "Then why are you here?"

Justin stared at Sol. "You can leave now."

Hugo patted Sol's hand and gave a gentle nod toward the door.

"I'll come by tomorrow." Sol left the room but hovered near the closed door. A faint vibration emanated from the room, causing a brief smile to tug on Sol's lips. Even though he was unable to hear the conversation on the other side, Sol lingered in the hallway, figuring the spine of the textbook.

A shift in the air had him look up. Nettle leaned against the wall down the corridor. She peeked coyly at him from under her long lashes before walking away.

Sol couldn't help the goofy grin from spreading on his face as he set off after her. She turned a corner, moving out of sight, but Sol knew where she was going. He took his time navigating through the hospital, weaving around the night staff coming on shift and the few straggling guests who were departing for the day. His grin widened when he came upon the exam room Hugo used when seeing patients.

The room was pitch dark, but Sol was familiar with this place. He set the book down on the workbench and leaned over to flick on the lamp. Its soft glow pierced the darkness. Small hands spun him around. Nettle's downy hair brushed his face before her lips claimed his own. Heat hotter than the sun blazed in Sol. He pulled her close, feeling every soft curve against his unyielding frame.

Nettle pulled away sooner than Sol wanted. She chuckled, darting in for one last nip before pushing him a few excruciating inches away.

Sol released her, watching as she righted her clothing. He leaned backward, resting his forearms on the top of the workbench and tried to assume a casual pose as his body protested against Nettle's change in mood.

Nettle smoothed her hair back. "Did you get a chance to ask him?"

Sol groaned, pushing away from the table. He grabbed the discarded book and went over to the cabinet full of ancient and outdated textbooks from Hugo's university days.

"Why not?" Nettle asked.

Sol pulled at the glass door, feeling the abrupt give as the warped frame released its hold. He placed the tome back in its empty spot. What is he to you? Your student, protégé, successor...grandson? Xi's words wrapped its thorns around his mind.

Sol shoved the cabinet closed. "Justin decided to pay a visit."

Nettle shifted her gaze to the entryway. It told Sol she was torn between stealing a few more moments with him or sneaking out to spy on Justin's conversation with Hugo. A soft chuckle escaped, drawing Nettle's attention back to him. "He's using a suppressor."

Nettle pouted. "How do you know?"

He could explain how non-military grade suppressors gave off slight vibrations on the most dense objects near it even as it dampened the air molecules, preventing sound from traveling far, or the painful way his instructors illustrated this lesson on each cadet's body, but he kept it simple. "The Academy taught me well."

Nettle pursed her lips, stepping in close to Sol's frame. Her hands settled on his chest and then her chin rested upon them, forcing her luminous green eyes upward to gaze at his. Sol's body relaxed as his arms embraced her, even though what he wanted wasn't what Nettle was offering at the moment.

In a soft voice, Nettle asked, "How are Talward's lessons going?"

"Frustrating."

"Hmmm." A mischievous twinkle entered Nettle's eyes and a slow smile spread. "That's not the only thing frustrating you."

Sol tried to keep his face straight. He blessed his family's darker skin tone that allowed him to not blush as obviously as Nettle's pale-white skin did. At least, he hoped she couldn't see him blushing.

Her smile grew wider. "I like it."

Just as he was about to draw her in closer, Nettle darted away. "You like teasing me?"

Delicate laughter spilled out of her. She hopped up on the table beside him, swinging her legs back and forth. "I meant I'm enjoying the added bonus of how you've been dealing with all your...frustrations." The way her gaze swept over him only added to those proclaimed frustrations. She laughed again, but this time it was husky and low. "I can tell you've been exercising more than that oversized brain of yours that Justin enjoys belittling."

"I don't want to talk about Justin." Sol pivoted to face her with every intention of stepping between those slender legs of hers and demonstrating what muscles he had been exercising lately.

Nettle's smile dropped. She braced a foot against his chest, pushing against his sudden movement to come closer. "I do."

This was how it always was. Sol dancing to her beat and rhythm as it shifted and moved on him, keeping him unbalanced. Never her meeting his pace. Sol stepped back. Her foot dropped and resumed its swinging. Nettle's body relaxed, and a smile played with the corners of her mouth, not committing to the act. It was so like her.

"Why does Justin hate you?"

Sol sighed. Not this again. "I doubt Speaker Justin hates me. We just have a mutual disdain for each other."

Nettle gave her snort-laugh Sol usually found endearing, but not when she insisted on talking about Justin.

"Come on," Nettle said. "You must know something. He's distant to everyone but you. Whenever I see the two of you are together, he is practically seething—well, as much as a heartless drone of legalism can seethe. I can't believe they selected him to be your mentor when you're obviously more advanced than he is in the intelligence department. Irrelevant ideas, my posterior."

Sol crossed his arms. "Were you spying on me?"

"I might have been passing by when Justin arrived—but don't change the subject." Nettle raised a finger into the air. "And don't give me that frackin' defecation about you being too similar to him. It's more than your Academy roots."

"Let it be." This wasn't how he wanted to spend his limited time with Nettle. He'd rather be running his hands against her tender flesh and sipping from the nectar of her sweet lips, but he recognized the night was shot. She was in full interrogation mode. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Her legs stilled. "Wait. You do know something."

Sol headed out, giving her a back-handed wave as he said, "Later."

Nettle made it to the door before him, blocking the keypad. He had forgotten she was part Air Elemental and could move fast when motivated. "You know something. Oh. Don't tell me." She widened her already big eyes, making her look ethereal. Sol felt his body respond. He wanted to be mad at her, but she was just so frackin' cute. "You've discovered one of his secrets."

"More than one, but thankfully, he isn't aware of everything I've found out about him."

Nettle's mouth dropped open and that impish gleam sparked back into those green gems she had for eyes.

"And," Sol continued before she could speak, "the best way to keep this beautiful brain, you like so much, safely intact is to make sure he never learns that." Sol leaned in close and whispered, "Let. It. Go."

He reached past her to activate the door. A small tug on the sleeve of his shirt had him pause half-way across the threshold.

"Wait." Nettle darted into the room to grab a book before returning to nestle against his side, one arm wrapped around his. She handed him the book. "Some light reading before you go to bed."

Sol shook his head, grabbing the book. Arm in arm, they walked out.

It wasn't like they were keeping their growing affection for one another a secret, but Sol still wasn't comfortable with the way the nurses looked at them, like they could tell what level their relationship was at from how Nettle hung on him. Whatever they were speculating was likely far from the reality he was encountering. Renden had been the one to enjoy the spotlight and relish the absurd gossip over his latest fling. For Sol, Nettle was the first girl he had ever wanted to get close to before. He didn't want the world as a witness to it.

When they arrived at the trans to take Sol back to the Institute's main building, Nettle gave him a chaste peck on the lips before pulling away. Sol considered tossing sensibility aside and venting out his frustration in a more wanton manner, but he resisted the impulse. He flashed his card, disappearing from her sight as the doors closed.

Sol raked a hand through his hair. "Transfer one, prosthetics warehouse."

The familiar stomach dropping sensation announced his arrival, but when the doors opened, a musty odor greeted him instead of the expected scent of metal and oil. An orange glow spread out, illuminating Talward's lanky form leaning against the wall.

His eyes scanned Sol's body. "Do you need assistance—"

"No," Sol said, interrupting whatever teasing comment was dangling on the man's clever tongue. He had his fill of teasing for the night. "I can manage my frustrations on my own."

Talward smiled, tilting his head toward the interior of his prison. "Then walk with me."