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[unsoldiered]

Alex is probably busy getting chewed on by monsters or something.

Leave him a message after the beep and hopefully he can get back to you.

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[unsoldiered]

[He's quiet while she takes his shirt in her hands, and remains that way for a heavy pause.]

I did... fight back. I really did--you gotta' believe me, I really tried. But every time I did, someone else suffered. I... killed so many people, at the church. When they tried to kill me, I--

[he stops, gaze wandering from heather to the journal]

I had to kill my mom, killed Judge Holloway--couldn't save Wheeler... Couldn't save my brother. My friends. Everyone in the town, gone... and now...

[Now Chase and Murphy. He can't bring himself to say it. But there's a desperation behind his words, like he's genuinely seeking answers--he needs them, so badly.]

... Tell me--what good have I ever done, fighting back?

[sweetmotherofgod]

You're still alive.

[It's quiet. Plaintive. The fight's left her completely by the time he's finished talking, and even as she says it she knows he won't see that as good.]

You're still here to help people. And you do. It's like you think it doesn't count because you have this messed-up idea that you need to do penance, but that doesn't mean the people you help get less out of it.

[unsoldiered]

[But he does need to do penance. He'll always need to. It's his punishment for what he'd caused; while he never really thinks it literally, it's completely and utterly true. So he looks at her, trying to look for something—maybe hoping she doesn't believe that, or hoping it's true despite his every thought that it isn't. Eventually he just swallows hard and softens his stare, and his shoulders slump at the sudden invisible weight; added weight, without warning.]

... I'm just tired.

[That's it. He's just—tired. But it's gotten to the worst point of weariness: the point where living exhausts you, down to the bone. He's so tired, Heather. He closes his eyes and scrubs a hand across one eyelid, looking the part. And then he says it again, like he's trying to make it a casual statement for himself, against all the odds.]

I'm just tired.