Zhaan visits John in her apothecary on Moya. His hands and feet are tied. "They're treating one more tier, then the Diagnosian wants you." John beckons her closer: "Odds are that I'm not going to make it..." Zhaan blah-blah: "Positive spirits. I pray to the Goddess." John entreats her also about how there's reality, though. "Your soul is troubled." Harvey, now. "When the chip's not controlling me, my thoughts are lucid. There are so many things that I want to say to my family and friends. If you could absorb these thoughts, you could find a way to get a message back to Earth." So he's asking her to join his demonstrably crazy ass in Unity? Now is so not the time. "I just want my dad to know," says Harvey. And Zhaan kneels; they have fathers in common. "Concentrate on me." The purest expression for the love that exists between John and Zhaan; between John and his highest self. Something that exists only between the two of them; something that redeems them both, unutterably meaningful and beautiful. Forehead on forehead, more intimate than sex. (And see, here, how Harvey turns her history upon her: the sin she can't escape, both in her life as an anarchist -- murdering in the middle of a holy act of love -- and in her life as a tainted mutant -- the only Delvian capable of destruction.) Twice now, before with John's spirit and now with his soul: forehead on forehead, warped and made ugly. The greatest possible violation.
"Hello, Delvian," says John, as her face twists in agony. "Tenth Level Pa'u? Pity. A Twelfth could break this bond." She struggles, but can't get away. "Time to pray." John tortures her in Unity, growls, throws her backward. Scorpius was never the enemy, he's just something to push up against, something to resist: only Harvey could destroy everything this way. Only John knows the sickening places each of them can go.