And the truth shall set you free

“What I see is someone who sold out to the very thing he professed to hate. Someone I trusted, who I was stupid enough to think would never betray me; someone who up and left in the middle of the night without so much as a Dear bloody John letter. I trusted you.”  

“I’m s…” 

“No! I told you I don’t want to hear ‘I’m sorry’.” The muscle in Ethan’s cheek twitched as his jaw clenched in barely restrained fury.  

Frustration, exhaustion, and the strain of continued pain and years of regrets and what-if’s finally caused him to snap. “Well, what do you want to hear? What else am I supposed to say? I am sorry. You think I’m not? You think it was easy for me to walk away? Well, it wasn’t. I left because of what we—what I did. Don’t you see I had to?” He sought his captor’s eyes, holding them steadily. “I couldn’t risk destroying you, too. I was trying to protect you.” The last was spoken in a heartbroken whisper, his eyes drifting closed as his head hung in misery. There were many regrets in his life, some recent, some not so—but the man before him represented the greatest of all his regrets rolled neatly into one lean and still, to his eyes, beautifully handsome package.  

Long moments passed as he waited silently for the next round of beatings to begin. He deserved them; he knew that, and in some dark recess of his brain he welcomed them as just payment for the foolish, arrogant, ignorant deeds of his youth. He had tried over the years to make up, in some small way at least, for the suffering he had caused, but no matter what he did he could never fully atone—not for releasing unspeakable evil into this world, not for the death of friends, and never for the betrayal of one whom he loved. It occurred to him that all he ever did was bring pain and suffering to those he loved. Ethan. Jenny.  A shudder racked his body and a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh sounded in his ears, it was a few moments before he realised that he was responsible for the strange, demented sound.  

Gentle fingers traced his cheek, cupping his chin and forcing him to lift his head. His eyes fluttered open as soft lips brushed gently against his in the barest whisper of a caress. Giles watched in wonder as Ethan carefully undid the manacles, taking care not to disturb the broken, bruised skin any more than was necessary. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, supporting him as he made his way slowly and painfully across the room to the door.  There, the last his strength deserted him, and he sagged gratefully into one of the hard wooden chairs.