an they do, send me for longer than forever?"

"Then you do want to run away with me!"

"Steffy, no. When I leave you tonight, Steffy, it's for good. That's
it. The last of Kit Temple. Stop thinking about me. I don't exist.
I--never was." It sounded ridiculous, even to him.

"Kit, I love you. I love you. How can I forget you?"

"It's happened before. It will happen again." That hurt, too. He was
talking about a couple of statistics, not about himself and Stephanie.

"We're different, Kit. I'll love you forever. And--Kit ... I know
you'll come back to me. I'll wait, Kit. We're different. You'll come
back."

"How many people do you think said _that_ before?"

"You don't want to come back, even if you could. You're not thinking
of us at all. You're thinking of your brother."

"You know that isn't true. Sometimes I wonder about Jase, sure. But if
I thought there was a chance to return--I'm a selfish cuss, Steffy. If
I thought there was a chance, you know I'd want you all for myself.
I'd brand you, and that's the truth."

"You do love me!"

"I loved you, Steffy. Kit Temple loved you."

"Loved?"

"Loved. Past tense. When I leave tonight, it's as if I don't exist
anymore. As if I never existed. It's got to be that way, Steffy. In
thirty years, no one ever returned."

"Including your brother, Jase. So now you want to find him. What do I
count for? What...."

"This going wasn't my idea. I wanted to stay with you. I wanted to
marry you. I can't now. None of it. Forget me, Steffy. Forget you ever
knew me. Jase said that to our folks before he was taken." Almost five
years before Jason Temple had been selected for the Nowhere Journey.
He'd been young, though older than his brother Kit. Young, unattached,
almost cheerful he was. Naturally, they never saw him again.

"Hold me, Kit. I'm sorry ... carrying on like this."

They had walked some distance from the ground-jet, through scrub oak
and bramble bushes. They found a clearing, fragrant-scented,
soft-floored still from last autumn, melodic with the chirping of
nameless birds. They sat, not talking. Stephanie wore a gay summer
dress, full-skirted, cut deep beneath the throat. She swayed toward
him from the waist, nestled her head on his shoulder. He could smell
the soft, sweet fragrance of her hair, of the skin at the nape of her
neck. "If you want to say goodbye...." she said.

"Stop it," he told her.

"If you want to say goodbye...."

Her head rolled again