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He blinks at me like my words are interesting and contentment tugs at his smile. “What are you looking at?” I ask, annoyed. “At the woman who fears the ocean but not me,” he taunts.
Our noses are lined up and for a few moments we just stare into each other’s eyes. Her irises are a sunset brown. I could stare into them forever and bathe in the peace she brings me.
I like the way broken men grieve.
It’s strange to me that I’m so drawn to wounded things—helpless creatures that I know can still turn and bite.
like mechanisms of war, we move like death, thoughtless and only as weapons.
Her grin is visible only in the way her eyes narrow at me. “If you’re going to shoot me, then get it over with, Bones. If I’m going to die today, it will only be at your hands.” She walks until her forehead is pressed against the gun, leaning against the weight of my hold and shutting her eyes. My hands are trembling uncontrollably. “I’m tired, so it’s okay. If this is where it ends, it’s okay.”
His blue eyes pierce through me. I expect him to yell at me, but his voice is a whisper. “Who taught you to beg for death just because you were a device?” My eyes widen and my lips part. “Nell… I know it wasn’t personal… I know you were just going through the motions.” He hiccups and reels back his emotions, tears still forming. “So why would I punish you? You’re just the weapon fired, not the evil that wields it.”
Punish me so I can forgive me,” he begs in a low voice.
Three years later
