A/N: This chapter references the episode "Humpty Dumpty."
Through with you, through with you, through with you? Of course not. She would come back. All lights off except his and hers, matching fluorescent glows like those ridiculous towels in her bathroom. It called to her, he knew, the light spilling out of his glass door. Even if she couldn't see it, she knew it existed, and that was enough.
He grinned to himself, safe to let slip the defenses for a moment. She was his favorite thought nowadays. He could lift unbelieving fingers to his face and feel the pull of his lips upwards, like they were reaching for something.
He'd considered dedicating one of his newly published articles to her, just to see if he could (the reactions from the ducklings alone would be worth it); he decided against it, avoiding questions at all costs. Anything to sidestep humanity, he rationalized, but almost against his will every new sheet in his legal pad inevitably started with "To Lisa." It was his version of doodles in a high school notebook, hearts and initials symbolizing too much.
When he met her, he wanted to teach her tricks that would blow her mind. Instead, he showed her, or tried to, but was rebuffed by the scared timidity of a hero-worshiper. It was a pretty puzzle, but he always knew eventually.
He knew her secret: she was never as idealistic as the rest of them. Sure, she could fool everyone, even herself (mostly to survive the day) but every inconsistency consumed him and there was nothing left he had not pondered in empty exam rooms and abandoned rooftops. "You see the world as it is, and how it could be;" yes, he could still remember the words. How embarrassing, to almost admit admiration in front of the ex. Damn her eyes. The point remained, however, that he had her figured out. Down to the way she turned around if he called after her, he had it all catalogued.
But sometimes she would throw him a curveball. Little tricks to keep him on his toes, he knew she liked to believe. He would die before he told her the truth; he knew she hardly recognized when his blue eyes sparkled in confusion instead of mischief.
He still had the message on his mind. She finally found the stones to tell him she was never coming back. Blatant lie, of course, but it still took balls.
And yet, as he threw the ball a little too hard against the glass, all he could think was how there was nothing he could say or do to provoke her into talking to him. It had been nearly a week and she didn't show a sign of breaking. At this rate, he might actually suggest he may or may not regret whatever it was he had done to offend her. It was so hard to compromise; his entire being protested it vehemently.
That's not how this was supposed to be, after all. He idealized power, he needed validation through others' submission. He spent way too much time analyzing himself, but he hadn't come across anyone else more interesting yet.
