[i]The leaf?[/i]

For a moment he had been so close, so close he had honestly allowed himself to believe he was free. He had relaxed, watched her slowly process the information that he had given her, watched as the numbers reassured him that this was it. She might not have truly believed he was telling her everything, but she was willing to let it go. Or so he had believed.

The human brain was a fickle thing. It made connections that even the numbers couldn't predict. It made sudden connections, and whole paradigms could shift. And so it was with Bree at that moment. She found something to keep her looking.

[i]The leaf.[/i]

It took Ethan a moment to even remember about what she was speaking. The little games he played with the world around him were so second nature by now that he didn't even notice them. It was like a comedian telling a joke in his head and laughing out loud, or a musician who tapped out the keys to a song of which they were particularly fond on a solid surface. It was an unconscious gesture, his way of interacting with the world. Finally he was able to pick out the memory, a memory that he would never have remembered after all of the excitement if she hadn't pointed it out to him.

He had grabbed the leaf because the water had been so easy, madly spitting all over the place, every which way. The same water that had allowed him to jump into it, had carried him all the way through the rapids without ever bashing his prone form against the rock.

She was staring at him, and the longer he hesitated the less she was going to believe the next partial truth he would feed her.

He shook his head side to side, a motion somewhere between complete denial and a desperate attempt to placate her. "The leaf wasn't floating. The water spat it out, and I grabbed it. It is easy to do when you can predict where it is going." That wasn't enough. She didn't trust his words. Why would she? Well, perhaps she would trust her eyes. "Here. Look."

With one hand, Ethan picked up a pebble, with the other, he held out his hand, palm up, mutely asking for Bree's own hand. As soon as he had it, he looked around, tossing the pebble lightly up and down, up and down. He studied the numbers, doing exactly that which he was pretending was all he could do. Read the numbers, observe and predict, but not alter. As soon as he found the perfect moment, he threw the pebble wildly up into the air at an angle that made it seem impossible it could ever come back. The pebble quickly disappeared from sight, but, up higher, a small gust of wind grabbed the light rock, sending it skidding back in Ethan's direction.

His eyes never breaking contact with the pebble, Ethan negotiated Bree's hand with deft movements. The pebble bounced off the rock, and landed lightly in Bree's palm. It rolled slightly, but stayed balanced in the center of her palm.

"Gravity works the way gravity works. Nothing can change that. But gravity and wind, they always do the same thing. Just like water. That makes them easy to predict."

Now he had her convinced. He had to have her convinced. This was getting far too close to the truth for comfort.