[He shook his head, but he didn't back down. He wouldn't back down on this, not when everything about Nick's somewhat more persnickety temper than he was expecting made so much more sense.]
Did he know? At the end, did he say anything to you?
[If he wanted to say he wasn't allowed to speak for the other him, then he would let the other him speak for himself. And forgiveness didn't have to come from a priest or a God. Sometimes forgiveness could come from everyday people, too. Sometimes the most important acts of forgiveness were the ones people gave to each other. Asking God for forgiveness wouldn't make the neighbor you'd wronged feel better about the situation, that had to come from themselves, sometimes even if the person who wronged them hadn't or couldn't ask for it.
He took a small step forward, shaking his head, and the catch in his voice, that underlying grief and rage, was so loud to his ears, unmistakable. This man was hurting so much, and he hated to see it.]
Why did you do it? Was it for the kids? [For a second, he glanced away, but not because he was cowing under his anger. He thought, about what would have happened, if he'd tried to run, if Knives had followed him and they had ended up killing each other.
That had been what he'd expected to happen all along, hadn't it? Even more reason why Wolfwood didn't need to carry that guilt.]
Did you know that was what I had known would happen? It didn't, for me. But I...I wanted it to. [The sadness in the look he gave him when he looked back at him was heavier. Tired.
Was this the price he would have had to pay, to finally get what he'd wanted? For Wolfwood to have lived, and to carry the guilt of it with him afterward? The thought felt like a bullet in his gut, and he sucked in a sharp breath, reaching up to wipe the tears out of his eyes before they had a chance to fall.]
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Did he know? At the end, did he say anything to you?
[If he wanted to say he wasn't allowed to speak for the other him, then he would let the other him speak for himself. And forgiveness didn't have to come from a priest or a God. Sometimes forgiveness could come from everyday people, too. Sometimes the most important acts of forgiveness were the ones people gave to each other. Asking God for forgiveness wouldn't make the neighbor you'd wronged feel better about the situation, that had to come from themselves, sometimes even if the person who wronged them hadn't or couldn't ask for it.
He took a small step forward, shaking his head, and the catch in his voice, that underlying grief and rage, was so loud to his ears, unmistakable. This man was hurting so much, and he hated to see it.]
Why did you do it? Was it for the kids? [For a second, he glanced away, but not because he was cowing under his anger. He thought, about what would have happened, if he'd tried to run, if Knives had followed him and they had ended up killing each other.
That had been what he'd expected to happen all along, hadn't it? Even more reason why Wolfwood didn't need to carry that guilt.]
Did you know that was what I had known would happen? It didn't, for me. But I...I wanted it to. [The sadness in the look he gave him when he looked back at him was heavier. Tired.
Was this the price he would have had to pay, to finally get what he'd wanted? For Wolfwood to have lived, and to carry the guilt of it with him afterward? The thought felt like a bullet in his gut, and he sucked in a sharp breath, reaching up to wipe the tears out of his eyes before they had a chance to fall.]