Strange Dogs (The Expanse, #6.5)

by James S.A. Corey

But if all the things in her books were about other places with other rules, then none of them could ever really be about her. It was like going to school one morning and finding out that math worked differently for you, so even if you got the same answer as everyone else, yours was wrong.

All names were like that. A shorthand so people could talk about things.

Some deep, animal relief turned her bones to water and left her empty of everything but gratitude and wonder.

To her, Xan looked like he was sleeping. Then he looked like he wasn’t really Xan, but only a statue of him. A piece of art.

This hits, not as hardd as it should - but still , it hits.

Cara found she could flip her brain between seeing him one way and then the other, like he’d become an optical illusion. Her brother, but only asleep. Something not alive, but also not her brother. Back again. Anything except the two together: Never both Xan and dead

“Because I hate feeling powerless,” he said. “I hate being reminded that the universe is so much bigger than I am. And that I can’t always protect people.”

It means I have to show sincerity and respect for our rules, even when that requires doing something I might not want to do. I don’t have the right to compromise.”

Going away from a point, there were any number of paths, and all of them were right. Going back to the point, most paths were wrong.

“There was an accident,” Cara said. “You got hurt. Really hurt. Killed-hurt.”

All the ways they wanted to help her, but never asked how she wanted to be helped.