Knowing she hadn't even had what he did made him feel guilty for ever having dreamed of leaving them. Then again, he'd felt enough remorse in his life for never having fully expressed to them his gratitude. He hadn't been able to until it was too late.

It didn't feel like that at the time. I felt they were stifling me, holding me back. I didn't know...

He squeezed her fingers, lightly.

I never got to tell them I appreciated them. They died, caught up in the very destiny they were trying to protect me from. It wasn't my fault, but it was because of me.

But then something that she's said catches at him, tugging at his gut unexpectedly, and he opens his eyes. He feels oddly vulnerable, as if she can see more of him that he's used to offering. Which, of course, is true.

"Do you really think we're that similar?"