g, and I came to
the Study Center and did what _you_ wanted."

It hurt him, and I knew it. I guess that was what I wanted, to hurt him
and to hurt everybody. He was shaking his head, staring at me. "Amy, be
fair. I've tried, you know how hard I've tried."

"Tried what? To train me? Yes, but why? To give me better use of my psi
faculties? Yes, but why? Did you do it for _me_? Is that really why you
did it? Or was that just another phoney front, like all the rest of
them, in order to use me, to make me a little more valuable to have
around?"

He slapped my face so hard it jolted me. I could feel the awful pain and
hurt in his mind as he stared at me, and I sensed the stinging in his
palm that matched the burning in my cheek. And then something fell away
in his mind, and I saw something I had never seen before.

He loved me, that man. Incredible, isn't it? He _loved_ me. Me, who
couldn't call him anything but Lambertson, who couldn't imagine calling
him Michael, to say nothing of Mike--just Lambertson, who did this, or
Lambertson who thought that.

But he could never tell me. He had decided that. I was too helpless. I
needed him too much. I needed love, but not the kind of love Lambertson
wanted to give, so that kind of love had to be hidden, concealed,
_suppressed_. I needed the deepest imaginable understanding, but it had
to be utterly unselfish understanding, anything else would be taking
advantage of me, so a barrier had to be built--a barrier that I should
never penetrate and that he should never be tempted to break down.

Lambertson had done that. For me. It was all there, suddenly, so
overwhelming it made me gasp from the impact. I wanted to throw my arms
around him; instead I sat down in the chair, shaking my head helplessly.
I hated myself then. I had hated myself before, but never like this.

"If I could only go somewhere," I said. "Someplace where nobody knew me,
where I could just live by myself for a while, and shut the doors, and
shut out the thoughts, and _pretend_ for a while, just pretend that I'm
perfectly normal."

"I wish you could," Lambertson said. "But you can't. You know that. Not
unless Custer can really help."

We sat there for a while. Then I said, "Let Aarons come down. Let him
bring anybody he wants with him. I'll do what he wants. Until I see
Custer."

That hurt, too, but it was different. It hurt both of us together, not
separately any more. And somehow it didn't hurt so much that