He laughed a little, shaking his head. “Not just now, Cal. The way you talk about him is different than you ever talked about me. I don’t...” He sighed, his shoulders slouching. “I don’t know why he was different. Really.”
She observed him, figuring it might be best not to get into any touchy conversation. She wanted this to be okay, at least. "Is your leg okay?"
He glanced down at it, his expression distant. “It’s fine. It got shot, but I think it’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
He sighed, his eyes still on Ben’s sleeping form. “I’ve been going back and forth,” he said, resting his head back. “Trying to figure it all out.”
He didn’t respond at first, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know if this is salvageable, you know?” he said with a small shrug. “That might be childish of me, but... I don’t know.”
She nodded slightly, seeming to understand. "Do you think you'll be happier in the long run? To, y'know... end it?"
“No,” he said flatly. “I don’t know. But... I don’t...” He clutched at his chest, his shirt wrinkling between his fingers as he stared off into space. “I don’t wanna feel like this anymore, you know?”
He laughed a little, moving to stand up with a small grunt. “Spend more time with him,” he said. “That’ll make it easy.”
She frowned, watching him stand. "The messenger said when you found him you did some sort of 'treatment'. What did you actually do..?" she asked, not sounding accusatory but rather curious.
He squinted at her, looking over at the sleeping Ben. "I made him forget," he said. "He was of no use to us remembering."
He fell silent, squinting down at her. "When I saw him in there, he was just... a mess, Cal. Writhing, screaming... he was in this weird, unconscious state, and even when we broke it, he was just... terrified. I had to make him forget."
