I got what I wanted-- a cold, empty room, tastefully decorated by the girl who I'd outgrown. Sometimes I wonder what I'm trying to prove. I know that I'm nothing without them, so distancing myself from my family isn't doing me any favors. But that's just it.
I don't want to be in here, I want to be with Connor, watching him sleep, cleaning his wounds, putting him back together the same way I used to patch his father up. But it's not about that, because what I want is irelevant. It's ironic, in a way. I always used to get what I wanted. There was a time when there wasn't a situation I couldn't negotiate in my favor with some sweet talk and a twenty. The tide really turned on that one.
Connor needs to focus on healing. They all do, and I know that they will. Avert a few apocalypses and you get pretty good at bouncing back. It's too bad that it doesn't work that way when you realize that your hero is gone forever, and you've lost the determination to fight the good fight because that's what he was. He refused to sit back and watch the world deteriorate at the speed of light, and he decided to do something about it.
I signed up for Angel Investigations, and that's not what we are. Not anymore.
I'm sick of it all, and this stupid never ending circle of pain and loss? It's finally caught up to me, so much so that I don't care if my head and my heart in are in two separate places, I have to listen to the one that isn't broken. My heart's the thing that put me here in the first place, maybe my head'll get me out of it.
((open to Kate and Fred))