westwhere | and what rough beast, its hour come round at last

[ Physical restraints and gags aren't new experiences for Vanessa, and the memories recovered while she struggles and coughs and chews, they all involve white padded walls or an old bloody mattress. That was back when Vanessa's agency would so often be dragged away from her, then twisted around into its ugliest form before being shoved back into her racked body. Here, she's restrained just the same while forced to see her own loved one suffer a cruel possession, now on the other side of the glass.

Her muffled howls are reduced to whimpers and grunts before long, having twisted herself against the rope enough that the burns stretch along her wrists by the time a flustered paladin finds and unties her. Before she can answer his questions, she's shoving herself to her feet and launching forward.

She already knows that the spirit wants violence, so she'll head to where he might find weapons first, ignoring any stares she gets as she races off like a madwoman. She momentarily considers alerting a friend to head him off, but now that she knows not to underestimate the spirit's motivations, Vanessa is certain she can subdue him herself. The Doctor would hate for anyone else to see him like this.

She grabs her pocket-watch in a desperate attempt to still reach him, calling through it as she runs. He isn't beyond reach, not yet, even if her cheeks are tear-stained from the momentary terror he caused her before abandoning her to the voices. ]

You need to stop! Please, let us talk through this.

[ Her words feel dry on her tongue, like she might choke on them, with her breaths as frantic as her steps. Vanessa strains to listen for any background noise that might give away his position, should he respond. ]

[ How did she— Determined. Of course she would be. The Doctor understands it, with painful recognition, knowing he would stop at nothing in a reversal of roles. The paladin, however, grows angrier by the moment. How dare she try to stop him. ]

You're wasting my time and I don't need to do anything at all! Certainly not talk to you. What's left to talk about?

[ In the background are muffled grunts of gathering soldiers, fortifying themselves with meager food and drink while the Doctor searches for a few suitable weapons. ]

[ Already somewhere in the Keep, most like. With her throat still raw, Vanessa struggles to keep her breath steady, though it would still need to be clear she's in quick pursuit. For whatever reason—perhaps the Doctor's influence, perhaps the need to get in the last word—he did respond, and she means to keep that attention if it may delay him. ]

Everything. You—your story, I mean. Why you— [ She's still out of breath from crying for help. ] Why you still feel the need to fight?

[ The moment he picks up a sword—a familiar weight to the Doctor, from long ago, and yet he's been so far removed from weaponry of any kind now—it appalls the Doctor enough to speak above the paladin's thoughts. He can hear Vanessa struggling in her efforts to reach him, and he loathes that, too. She shouldn't be mixed up in any of this at all, not for his sake. ]

Failure. They were all lost, everyone I loved.

[ The Doctor's softer voice rises above now, as he holds the sword and stands against a wall close to a doorway. He'd taken a winding path from the Gut's Bind, a few shortcuts, pushing through the crowd at The Crossing, to end up here. ]

I hurt you, I'm sorry. Don't come for me, Vanessa, please. I can speak with him, reason with him. Just stay where you are.

[ The clatter of steel in the distance gets her to rethink her route. There's no point in trying to catch up. Instead, she thinks of where he's most likely to end up. There's only a slight stumble when she hears her name, though she shouldn't be surprised the Doctor would be strong enough to have moments of resistance. ]

Would you?

[ A huff as she catches her breath again. Even if the Doctor thinks he can speak to the spirit, he isn't doing it alone. ]

I too have— I've suffered enough loss. Come back to me.

[ Before he loses control again— ]

Nothing would stop me getting to you, but this is...it's different, it's—

[ Over the distant crowd, the swearing and banter of soldiers, she'll hear the sound of the sword's tip being dragged across stone before he grunts and sighs heavily, and his voice raises again. ]

Enough, enough! I'm already dead. I'll take as many of them with me as I can.

[ Angrier now, the sword gets thrown to the ground while he searches through the remaining arsenal, opting for a bow and a few arrows. He can more quickly take out enemies this way, he reasons. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a few soldiers beginning to take note of what he's doing, but he moves swiftly now, counting on their collective inebriation to slow them down before following him as he makes his way towards the eastern tower. ]

Edited (we're sorry, the brain you are attempting to reach is not available please hang up and try again) 2023-02-22 01:31 (UTC)

[ Though she had been running the entire time he had paused in the Keep, Vanessa might not have stood a chance at catching the possessed Doctor if not for the arrival of the massive dragon that has been occasionally menacing the Watch, and this time it flies low enough to spread its frozen breath just outside the Keep's exits.

It's just within the doorway that the Doctor's ducked back into that Vanessa rushes behind him, the chaos just outside distracting him enough to give her a flash of opportunity. There's no time for her to even consider something like a spell to try and subdue him—and she had promised herself she would never do that to him again. Physical violence is somehow more permissible in her mind, so she runs into him with such a force to slam him face-first into the corner just inside the doorway. She can hope it's enough force to weaken his grip and allow her to wrench the bow from him, even flinging it out to the still frozen pathway if needed.

Vanessa is so lost for breath, her words are but gasps. ]

Use me instead!

Edited 2023-02-23 03:08 (UTC)

[ Distracted already by the dragon, the element of surprise equally works in Vanessa's favor, with the Doctor unsuspecting and unable to defend himself before he's thrown against the hard stone. Dazed, of course, he's unable to put up a fight before the bow is taken from him, and though he moves to stand, his steps are sluggish at first. The paladin is angrier than ever, but it's possessing a corporeal body and can't put up the fight it wants to. Not yet. The Doctor can, of course, withstand far more damage than an ordinary human, so by the time he's on his feet, that rage is already building quickly.

With blood streaming down his face from a gash to his forehead, he advances on Vanessa quickly, moving to shove her, trying to corner her and push her up against the adjacent wall. ]

You've gone mad! Take you, when I've got a perfectly willing soldier here?

[ He nearly sneers at her, fingers moving to wrap around her throat. ]

[ The enclosed quarters do her no favors, and neither do the soldiers rushing by to address the aftermath of the dragon's ice attack. Some of them may even be happy if the outsiders take one another out in a domestic. They make no move to help, and their proximity makes it impossible for Vanessa to successfully sidestep or duck under his arm.

She has her dagger, but there's hesitance in using it that she hasn't known before. Once, she might have been more willing to strike for him, but she doesn't want to think it's so lost as that. It's only for the proximity that Vanessa can't attempt a proper kick or punch.

Her free hand grabs for his, circling his wrist, but her grip his gentle even as his tightens. Any fear that shows in her wide eyes is for what this will do to him. Even still, she hopes she can let this spectre see reason, even as he twists the Doctor's expression in a way she hopes to never see directed at her again. ]

He isn't willing, not for the violence ahead. You want...a killer. I am, I always— [ A weakened gasp with her raspy voice, and the grip on the knife hanging at her side tightens, but she scarcely blinks. ] —always have been. Always willing.

[ She shudders. ]

He will...resist you. I won't.

[ If all it wants is to slay the enemy, then she'll kill however many it wishes if it keeps the Doctor's hands clean. ]

He's more willing than you think.

[ A mind game. The paladin's rage stoked ever further, the grip on her throat begins to tighten, but there's a flash in his eyes when her words sink in. It's her voice that anchors him, the words heartbreaking on their own, but she's here, fighting for him, and he won't stop fighting in return.

In horror, he recoils and pulls his hand away quickly, realizing what he's done, how close he came—

With a tone bordering on abject horror, the breaks through and speaks. ]

Vanessa. [ By his own hand, he might have lost her. ] I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...

[ There's no proper word for how very wrong it feels to have the Doctor grab her with menace, and that isn’t speaking to any physical pain. She’s never feared physical pain, only abandonment, and now she must convince herself that the Doctor hasn’t abandoned her.

The feral glint in his eyes makes her cringe, as does the sight of the blood knowing it was due to her, but she doesn't look away. Thanks to that, Vanessa catches the moment when he returns before he even moves, and the thought of using her knife’s hilt is momentarily abandoned. She's lucky for that recoil, because it's unlikely she would have made enough of an impact to make a difference. She had already been winded; her throat is already sore.

With breaths still shallow and ragged, Vanessa sheathes her knife and reaches for the Doctor. How she wants to hold him, to comfort him and remind him that he isn't at fault. But there's no time for his apologies or her embraces. ]

Be sorry if you refuse my help. Give— Give me your hands.

[ A burly soldier staggers inside, the door nearly bouncing back off the wall in his rush from the chill. He bumps into Vanessa without any awareness when she’s trying to grab the Doctor’s wrists, but she persists through the stumble in trying to restrain him with the same tie he’d earlier gagged her with. If she can do that, she can hope to locate a corner away from the constant rush of people and take control of this situation—to save him from his own misguided attempt to save others.

Her weakened state and the chaos makes it difficult for her to move quickly, so she can only hope he'll cooperate with her, but he has to understand now that he must be physically restrained if they're to reason with this spirit. Vanessa only needs enough time to better communicate. Perhaps she can even think of a different way to expel it, without a true exorcism, if she can find a moment to think. ]

[ He doesn't truly want to refuse anything that she asks of him now. As it is, he desperately wants to take her into his arms; such a gesture wouldn't fix or heal what he's done to her physically, but the weight of her in his arms has always been a comfort all its own.

Because his own influence speaks louder than the paladin's for the moment, the Doctor starts to oblige her request, though his mind is even more cluttered with thoughts; his own and the spirit haunting him. He can't stay a step ahead of it like he normally can, and he's worried at the thought of lingering near Vanessa too long. Second-guessing himself in a matter of seconds, he begins to resist, to pull his hands back. ]

I know what it wants, Vanessa. I'm more than capable of handling this and I won't see you hurt again.

[ His mind keeps flashing to the remembrance of his hand around her throat and it sickens him that he lost his grip then. He can't risk it again, he needs to see this through. ]

[ Now, what would Vanessa want if the roles were reversed? She has been in the Doctor's position; she has fought against a greater menace than a grief-stricken paladin. But that was a battle she fought her entire life... The Doctor's gall at suggesting he knows better than her in matters of possession only irks her. He can't have thought this through, and she won't let his reckless need for sacrifice lead to an even worse mistake.

There are people fighting and dying in the distance, and he means to do what with it? Nothing she can allow. ]

Then stop resisting me! This spirit seeks death. Are we not to pass by death hand-in-hand?

[ If she's hurt again, it will be because of falsehoods and hubris.

If he thinks he can overcome it, then it won't be with a weapon in hand. He must first be restrained. Were the roles reversed and the spirit wanted her to harm those that she normally never would, she would want to be stopped, so there's pinpoint determination in how she once again grabs for his wrists. ]

[ She's to restrain him then, she insists on it, and he loves her all the more for it. Attempting to be the voice of reason in an otherwise chaotic and cluttered frenzy, Vanessa is—as ever—his anchor. Experience, she may have, and he wouldn't argue it, but she's absolutely foolish to try and tame him now. She has no idea what's going on his mind and he knows the end, he can see it, the outcome that's necessary to expel the paladin once and for all. He doesn't want the violence the paladin demands, but the Doctor is all too familiar with it, heartbreakingly so, and there is again the strange and hauntingly blurred lines between himself and this ghost gone mad with fury.

Already he can feel the paladin's presence begin to overwhelm his thoughts again, and though he fights against it, he's overcome once more, right as Vanessa grabs for his wrists. There's a shift in his eyes, the darkness encroaching, a rage building and boiling over as he recoils and draws his hands away from her. She'll be granted only a brief respite before he's suddenly shoving her without restraint. ]

Leave me alone. I won't be stopped!

[ He doesn't spare even a moment of consideration for her well-being, and in fact, he hopes the force of the assault dazed her enough to knock her out and stall her steps. Why does she insist on following him? A woman gone mad. Somewhere, deep down, the Doctor's hearts ache for Vanessa's persistence and for the look of utter surprise at his actions, but he's lost the ability to keep fighting against the paladin's influence, at least for now. ]

Edited 2023-03-03 03:46 (UTC)

[ There's only a moment where she thinks the Doctor might understand enough to let her help, but the moment vanishes and her flicker of hope prevents her from defending against what she should have seen coming.

Instead it's a shock, a thump, and a blur. Though he may not look overly imposing at first glance, the Doctor's strength is more than even Vanessa had bargained for, and she's left stunned in her heart as much as anything once she recovers from her collision with the stone wall.

As the shock fades, the throbbing spreads from the back of her skull, but she ignores it to stand back up and attempts to stumble after him. Even in her stupor, she knows there are only so many places he could be heading. Fortunately, her daze is only momentary, so once through the door she has the Doctor just enough in her sights to follow. She need only catch up to him, and somehow without slipping on any remaining ice patches underfoot. ]

Edited 2023-03-03 04:14 (UTC)

[ Though the paladin didn't specifically seek to harm the madwoman intent on stopping him, should a terrible have befallen her in his haste to get to the watchtower, he'll have no regrets. Of course, the pitiful man he's possessed is terribly fond of her, and so their battle persists, even as the paladin gathers up the crossbow and makes his way to the top of the tower.

He doesn't care who or what he kills, only that he increases the number of casualties in some fashion. It's all that he has left to do, and the need for vengeance and blood on his hands cannot be stymied.

Not noticing Vanessa on his periphery, the enthralled Doctor continues purposefully making his ascent, looking for an open window to occupy, to take down swarms of harpies as he can. There's a thrill in watching the horrible creatures descend on them, knowing they're but a moment's breath away from death, by his own hands. He feels alive again, the Time Lord's hearts pounding with the excitement of hands soon to be soaked in the blood of enemies. His aim is off on the first shot, serving only to infuriate a harpy more, as it circles back to attack with a renewed fury. When he hits the harpy this time, it crashes through, landing roughly on the stone ground. ]

[ Unable to keep up with him in the tower, Vanessa's forced to stop for breath, grabbing the wall as a dizzy spell nearly sends her backwards. Her head is roaring, well out-competing the the soreness about her neck.

With vision still unsteady, she ascends with great risk when trying another sprint. But how can she be careful and slow once she hears the shrieking echo of a monster traveling from up above? Vanessa knocks into the wall a few times in her hurry up the steps, finding a thrashing harpy as it flails and reaches for the Doctor, its broken wing beating uselessly while the other sweeps for his feet.

Driven by instinct, anything to keep it from clawing him, Vanessa throws herself forward with her knife in hand, collapsing onto the creature with intent on finality even as it tries to throw her off. Pure luck keeps her from the poisoned claws, but she's too uncoordinated still from her head injury to be kind in her kill. She stabs it once, twice, then a third time until the blade is buried in the harpy's eye. With both hands tight on the weapon, expression grim, she jerks and twists the knife down to its hilt until the harpy's movements and shrieks abruptly end. ]

[ The shift in the Doctor's mind is abrupt and disconcerting, able to feel the moment the paladin eases its grip and influence on his thoughts. The blood it sought, the hatred it felt, all of it disappears in a single moment, though there's no sense of relief at all. From vengeance to fear now, the Doctor's own mind turns in an instant as he focuses on Vanessa, the way he'd hurt her, and the fact that she's helped him now to kill one of the winged creatures.

He feels his hearts pounding as he advances quickly closer, nearly breathless when he speaks, the adrenaline gradually waning. ]

Vanessa. Were you—

[ There's so much to sort through and think about, not least of which the dead thing at their feet. But all that he cares about for the moment is if she's okay; the memory of her roughly being thrown against the stone wall by his own hands makes his stomach turn over.

Covered in the harpy's blood, at a first glance, he can't immediately tell how badly injured she is, but he rests a hand on her back, trying to coax her to look at him, while his other hand moves to cradle her face. ]

[ Something passes through. Away. She can feel it, but she can't know its fate. She has no time for pity; she's too stricken by the stream of panic that's led to her now recovering from a momentary blood-lust. What's unsettling is that she isn't unsettled. Not by that.

Ethan had warned her.

She doesn't flinch from the touch, instead releasing her knife so she can immediately grab for the Doctor once she understands it's truly him. Understanding fills her, even as she knows the battle isn't completely over. She already knows what is likely to follow, and she tries to hold him closer all the more for it, as if still frightened she'll lose him. ]

I'm here. You are here. Nothing matters more than that.

[ She clutches at his hand, then tries to stand to better look at where she had earlier hurt him. He worries if she's injured even as he bleeds from a strike to the head. She would muse at the pair they make if she had the time, but there's no time. Already someone is shouting about hauling the dead harpy out of the window to clear a path while trying to shove past them.

Needless to say, Vanessa's balance isn't going to hold well on the stairs at the moment, and she's still reeling from the adrenaline rush of the last several minutes, so all she can think to do is throw her arms around the Doctor and hold him tight. ]

[ Enfolding her in his arms is the most natural and necessary thing in the world right now, and as he clings to her in return, one hand comes to rest lightly against her back. He notices a few things immediately; the cadence of her beating heart, the weight of her against his chest, the bliss of breathing her in as she presses closer in return. ]

I hurt you. More than once.

[ There's a steadiness to his voice, yet it will likely sound distant, even removed somewhat from where he is right now. He's here, but not; so far away and far ahead, already running towards a moment away from her where he isn't near enough to hurt her again. ]

Not you. It wasn't you.

[ Even predicting that he might pull away, that guilt might seize him as it has so often her after a possession, Vanessa's heart is so tight it may stop beating for how she hurts for him. Dizziness keeps her from pulling too far back, afraid she might topple down the stairs, but she still leans to peer up at the cut on his head, clutching tightly at the back of his neck.

Men rush past them, some lingering to grunt under the weight of the corpse before it can be rolled back out the broken window. They're shouting something at Vanessa and the Doctor, the sounds of battle rages outside, but it's white noise to her. When having a singular focus, she has always walked through battlefields as one would a cemetery.

Her voice sounds lighter than it ever has, but she won't let herself drift away. He's here, he's alive, and he wasn't the one to land the final blow. Any other concerns he has, she must find a way to soothe. If anyone can understand...

The Doctor needs to know how much she understands. She needs to think...through the stabbing pain in the back of her skull. Even that she can't complain over... After all, he's the one bleeding. ]

I can help. [ If only he would stop refusing her. ] Let me help.

Edited 2023-03-05 19:33 (UTC)

[ His guilt is all-consuming, it always has been, though in this precise moment, it's tempered by the sight of Vanessa covered in the harpy's blood and barely steady. He worries desperately over the head injury he'd surely inflicted, and for a moment as his eyes flicker with concern across her blood-splattered face, he runs his fingers lightly through her hair; touching her to grasp the extent of her injuries, needing to know she's safe...or not.

A moment later, assured that she isn't bleeding internally from a cracked skull, the Doctor's lips briefly press to her forehead, eyes closing as he considers her words. ]

I chose this, I allowed that thing in my mind. I don't want your mercy or pity.

[ His words, though harsh, are accompanied by a tender touch as he strokes his thumb across her temple. A battle continues to rage around them, the screams of terror unending, and Vanessa remains his anchor amidst a sea of terrible memories made all the more potent by what's just happened here between them. ]

[ In any other setting, her temper might flare at such an insult. So often her empathy is mistaken for pity by those who don't know better, but the Doctor should know that Vanessa could never love someone as an equal if she pitied them. But he can't be expected to be entirely himself, not when his very core has been shaken. She can recall when he told her of another time he may have experienced something similar, how he still thinks of the woman without a name.

He knows Vanessa's name, and he should know her and that she can help in a way nobody else can. For that, she doesn't need to sacrifice her life, only her shame. Easier said than done. ]

Then you will receive neither. But you cannot deny my love.

[ Her grip behind his neck tightens slightly, pinching at the nape, before sliding down to rest against his chest. She hangs her head with a flinch, resting it against his shoulder. ]

That would be the only way in which you could hurt me. What are bruises on my flesh, so long as you stay near my heart? Let me—

[ Oh, a dizzy spell. Only momentary, enough for her grip to tighten again and her to cast a nervous glance to the side. They must leave the staircase, least of all because she can't help him with people constantly rushing past them. ]

Edited 2023-03-06 00:22 (UTC)

[ He remembers their fight in the desert, their equally matched tempers, the push and pull of their intense and mutually shared love, the fierceness of wanting to have and protect the other. They're drawn to one another in ways that only they could understand and he remembers himself a moment after saying the words; she wanted a better god by her side, not a man who would think she'd want to or ever be willing to pity him. ]

I won't—

[ But then she falters, gripping at him, and all of his self-loathing immediately ceases in light of his worry for her. He holds her carefully against him, moving to lift her now, not even allowing her the chance to protest before attempting to carry her. ]

Don't argue with me.

[ For once, she doesn't.

Her hold around his neck is tight, needing to feel the reassurance of how he holds her. It's him again, and it will remain as such. Still, as her gaze passes over the bowtie on his collar, there is a pit in her stomach.

Why had he made such a choice? Why had he made such a choice with her right there?

Her swallow is dry while she strains to look to where he might take them. It would be laughable to take her to a medic, as she can only assume they're rather occupied. If anyone needs to be looked after, it's him and his head injury, but she doesn't know if she could trust her hand to be steady enough for stitching just yet. Something about how she hit her head has certainly left her off-kilter, but she just needs a bit of time to shake it away. She's suffered worse. ]

Away from them.

[ Her words are barely a mutter, so he may not hear her. Them. The people, the noise, the tragedy that has nothing to do with her once she's away from here. For now, forever, his is the only tragedy she needs to love; even when it cuts her down.

Privacy isn't easy to come by, but it's possible with some tenacity and a sharp eye. Some corner, some emptied storage space somewhere must be abandoned. So long as he doesn't return to the Gut's Bind... It wouldn't be wise. ]

Edited 2023-03-06 02:00 (UTC)

[ He won't be returning there anytime soon. Inevitably, his curiosity will draw him back, he won't be able to help it. But for the moment at least, even his instinct to run far away from her is stymied due to his worry over the injury she's suffered.

By his own hand, he reminds himself.

Soft though her words are, the Doctor hears her—he would always hear her—and carefully navigates through the crowd with Vanessa safely and securely tucked against his chest. He can hardly think amidst the throng of soldiers, but at least they're all distracted enough now to forget his earlier insubordination, and they manage their way back to the barracks. The accommodations are dreadful, of course, but the Doctor is gentle as he moves to lay Vanessa down on a hard pallet. Borrowing a discarded blanket from the adjacent 'bed,' the Doctor bundles it up and slips it beneath her head to make her more comfortable.

And now, for the moment, he's strictly focused on her. ]

Look at my eyes.

[ He's checking her pupil dilation, reflectivity, further ascertaining the extent of injury. ]

Tell me how you feel.

[ The sleeping quarters aren't ideal for privacy, but at least at the moment, many seem to be away tending to their duties. Still feeling a bit hazy through her headache, Vanessa is impatient through his attempt to turn her into a patient.

She understands, of course. He needs reassurance. But if she's honest, then he won't be reassured, and nothing will get accomplished. Beneath her long sleeves, her wrists burn a bit. Underneath her collar, her neck is still sore, and she doesn't know if it will bruise but if so, she's had so much worse. Her head hurts, and she knows that's why she keeps getting dizzy spells, and why she feels a bit sluggish.

And what would knowing any of that do?

She sits up, though pausing to take it slower when the act brings on a spell of nausea. With eyes narrowed, from fear more than anger, Vanessa reaches for his hand to stop his check-up. She holds it to her breast, gentle enough that he can pull away if he wishes, but earnest in how she clasps it against the blood-stained blouse. Vanessa pleads with her touch. Don't leave me behind. ]

Terrified.

[ It keeps her from lying, as she sidesteps and reminds him of what really matters here. Physical injuries will recover no matter what, she always manages. But the emotional toll? On him? On her. How can she...? ]

You let the abyss take you. When I reached for your hand to pull you back, you would not let me try. You turned from me.

[ At that, her voice shudders and her gaze falls low. She can't remember him turning his back on her ever before. If he won't let her, then she can't help him, and knowing that breaks her heart. Can't he feel it? Or can he no longer feel her heart? Has this war pulled them so far apart already?

If so, she knows it to be her own fault. She hasn't been herself since working in the Gut's Bind. She was too difficult for him. It's no wonder he was so keen on investigating the source of the concern, but now what has come of it? No solace, only sorrow. ]

[ He hears the words before she utters them, a prickle at the edge of his mind, her fear almost an entity unto itself, though the shadow of her thoughts near the edge of his consciousness is nothing at all like the spirt that haunted him. He wants to run, wants to hide from her, yet she pulls his hand closer and she lays before him, wounded by his actions in ways beyond the physical.

Splattered with blood, suffering injuries she should have never been made to endure, the Doctor hasn't felt quite so ashamed in...a very long time. It all could have been avoided. Every misstep he made in bringing them here, to this exact moment, is recalled with utter clarity and resounding disappointment in himself. He was so sure of everything and look where it got him. Yet again, he misjudged. He's only grateful that Vanessa still lives and breathes to remind him of his folly.

And still, he wants to run. He wants to wrench his hand away abruptly and turn from her. Not because of her, because of him. It's always because of him; his endless mistakes, his desire to forestall pain, as if it would keep anything from ever hurting. Yet, he remains captive to Vanessa Ives; for the moment, at least, because she is injured, and because he can't leave her when she speaks such heartbreaking and brutal truth. They've come far enough not to hide from one another, haven't they? He doesn't pull his hand away, at least. ]

Better to take me than anyone else.

[ Than you. ]

I'm more than capable.

[ The truth beneath the words, painful and haunting: he thought he was more than capable. ]

and what rough beast, its hour come round at last

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